Chapter 69: The Bloody Battle on Qingtang Street

Qingtang Street, Lechang Bathhouse City.

This was the Liaanhong Society’s stronghold on Qingtang Street—Bigmouth Owl’s territory.

As Lu Feng stepped into the bathhouse, a hostess immediately approached, inquiring about his needs. At the same time, a young lookout outside the elevator recognized him with a single glance and hurried to the back to report.

The enmity between Lu Feng and Bigmouth Owl had escalated past reconciliation. They had already resorted to ambushes and gang attacks; another encounter could only end in death.

The lookout hadn’t been gone long before a group of Liaanhong Society foot soldiers emerged, armed with blades and clubs, surrounding Lu Feng from a distance.

The bathhouse staff, clearly not strangers to such scenes, fled upstairs at once.

Moments later, more Liaanhong Society members charged in from outside, locking the main doors and joining those inside to encircle Lu Feng at the center.

Bigmouth Owl’s right-hand man, Wang Mang, stepped forward, spinning two gleaming knives with expert ease, the blades dancing between his fingers. Fixing his gaze on Lu Feng, he said, “You survived last time, but you still dare show up here?”

“There are no cowards from Yunshan. Since you couldn’t kill me, it’s your turn for bad luck. Send out Bigmouth Owl—maybe you’ll walk away with fewer broken legs,” Lu Feng replied coldly.

“Hmph!” Wang Mang sneered, “You haven’t met a real master yet. I, Fast Blade Wang Mang, swept through Qingtang Street to Lanchang—my Red Pole status isn’t for show. Let’s see how tough you really are.”

“Very well, come at me,” Lu Feng replied, taking a fighting stance and beckoning with his finger.

Wang Mang stopped twirling his knives, gripped one in his right hand, and lunged at Lu Feng, slashing twice—one blow aimed at Lu Feng’s left shoulder, the other at his chest.

As the blades flashed, Lu Feng sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the strike to his shoulder, then took a quick step back to dodge the second.

Wang Mang pressed his attack, his two thin-bladed knives weaving a steel net, each slash targeting Lu Feng’s vital points and joints.

Wang Mang’s men clapped and cheered him on. “Brother Mang’s blades are the sharpest—faster than lightning!”

Though the praise was blatant, Wang Mang relished it, slashing three times in quick succession, each strike faster than the last, forcing Lu Feng into a retreat.

“Little punk, if our boss had come after you himself last time, you’d have been chopped to pieces by now!” The lackeys jeered as their leader drove Lu Feng back.

Lu Feng took another large step backward, dodging Wang Mang’s blade.

“Is our boss’s knife fast or not? You can’t even see it!” the lackeys taunted in Cantonese.

Lu Feng stopped, a faint smile curling his lips. “Honestly? Not that fast.”

“Big talk! Let’s see if you can back it up!” Wang Mang snorted, slashing toward Lu Feng’s throat.

This time, Lu Feng didn’t retreat. With a lightning step forward, he raised his right hand and extended two fingers, catching Wang Mang’s blade between them with flawless precision.

The blade froze, trapped between Lu Feng’s fingers. Everyone present was stunned.

Lu Feng’s lips curled further. “How fast is it now?”

“Die!” Wang Mang roared, stabbing at Lu Feng’s abdomen with his other knife.

Lu Feng grabbed Wang Mang’s attacking wrist with his free hand, pressed down hard, and drove the blade into Wang Mang’s thigh with a sickening thud.

Wang Mang screamed in pain. “Kill him!” he shouted.

The encircling lackeys responded instantly, rushing at Lu Feng with raised weapons.

With a swift kick, Lu Feng sent Wang Mang flying, snatched up his thin-bladed knife, and spun in a whirlwind slash. The blade flashed like thunder, felling the thug who charged him from behind.

Chaos erupted. Lu Feng held nothing back—he met legs with slashing legs, arms with cleaving arms. In the blink of an eye, the bathhouse lobby became a slaughterhouse, blood spraying and pooling everywhere, the stench so thick it hung in the air like a bloody mist.

Each time Lu Feng’s blade fell, the Liaanhong Society thugs howled in agony—each scream sharper and more miserable than the last.

After more than ten minutes, only Lu Feng remained standing in the hall.

“Bigmouth Owl, still hiding? I’ve heard that if no one holds a stronghold, it’s as good as lost!” Lu Feng called out, his voice booming as he flicked the blood from his blade, standing amidst the groaning heap of thugs.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

A round of applause sounded from the second floor. Lu Feng looked up—Bigmouth Owl stood on the balcony, watching and clapping.

The bathhouse was a duplex; the second floor was open to the lobby, with a ceiling two stories high, making the space bright and spacious.

Now, Bigmouth Owl stood on the upstairs gallery.

“Impressive. If you joined a gang, you’d make a name for yourself in Huadu within a month. What a pity,” Bigmouth Owl said. He was no fighter himself, but he loved watching brawls, even running illegal fight nights on Qingtang Street.

“I don’t like fighting, but if someone comes after me, I’ll always strike back. Today I stand here—between you and me, only one leaves on their feet!” Lu Feng declared, striking the floor for emphasis.

“Fine, then I’ll have someone fight you!” Bigmouth Owl replied, descending the stairs with another man in tow.

The newcomer wore a white martial arts uniform, a black belt tied at the waist.

Lu Feng knew that foreign martial arts like Taekwondo and Karate used colored belts to denote rank—a black belt meant this man was no pushover.

But judging from the outfit alone, Lu Feng couldn’t tell if he practiced Taekwondo or Karate.

Bigmouth Owl’s face and hands were still healing, unsightly scars marring where the dog had bitten him, making his smile even more sinister.

“Allow me to introduce Mr. Masaki Tanaka, a fifth-dan black belt in Karate. Get acquainted,” Bigmouth Owl said with a twisted smile.

“You’re hiring a Japanese fighter?” Lu Feng frowned at the name.

It was common for gangs to pay outsiders, but to bring in a Japanese ringer—wasn’t that disgraceful?

“An old friend knows Mr. Tanaka from Kyokushin Karate and invited him to fight you. What, are you scared?” Bigmouth Owl taunted.

Karate had many schools; Kyokushin was known for its grueling training and emphasis on real combat, famous both in Japan and the US.

Even in Yangcheng there were Kyokushin dojos charging steep fees—yet people still paid to train.

“How much did he cost?” Lu Feng asked.

“What?” Bigmouth Owl was caught off guard, unsure what Lu Feng meant.

“How much for this guy?”

Bigmouth Owl hadn’t paid—in fact, Masaki Tanaka had been hired by Ye Xinglong of Kanglong Pharmaceuticals. Either way, the bill wasn’t his, but covered by a generous backer.

Seventh Master had tried to grab a cut of the big money, but failed—Bigmouth Owl had snagged it instead.

“Not much. Eight hundred thousand,” Bigmouth Owl replied.

“Truly, fools and their money are easily parted,” Lu Feng said with a rueful smile.