Three burly, bull-like bodyguards moved in to subdue Su Jie.

One kicked at his knee; the other two grabbed for his arms.

Even a professional fighter struggles against four hands, let alone six. And these weren’t amateurs—they were trained pros.

But in Su Jie’s eyes, they were slow, weak, practically children.

He didn’t even bother to move his torso. His hands twitched, his legs snapped out.

Crack!

The two bodyguards pinning his arms felt as though they were gripping an elephant. With a single shake from Su Jie, their shoulders dislocated. They screamed.

Su Jie’s counter-kick landed square on the thigh of the third bodyguard.

The guy who had just tried to kick Su Jie’s knee lagged by half a beat. Before his foot even reached its target, his thigh cramped violently. He lost balance and hit the ground.

Su Jie followed with two quick kicks, one to each remaining bodyguard’s calf.

Both dropped immediately, twitching and groaning.

He had shown mercy—only targeting their muscles, causing short spasms and a week of bruising. Had he aimed for joints or bones, their legs would’ve been ruined.

“Let’s go.”

In under five seconds, all six were on the floor.

Tan Dashì had been trying to decide whether he should jump in; blink of an eye and the fight was over.

He wasn’t weak, but he clearly only had ring experience—no street-fight instincts. When things got real, he hesitated. That’s the flaw of ring fighters: too cautious when it counts.

“Boss is vicious,” Tan Dashì shivered. “Will this cause trouble? Those guys were clearly working for some big shot. They were just clearing the area, pushing Lin Tang aside. You beat them this badly… what if their boss has connections…?”

“Scared?” Su Jie shot him a look. “If I hadn’t pulled Lin Tang, he’d have lost teeth. These flunkies throw their weight around—teaching them a lesson is doing the world a favor.”

Lin Tang’s face, stiff with anger, loosened a bit. He’d finally vented and felt a grudging admiration for Su Jie’s decisiveness.

“You’re my friend from now on,” Lin Tang said. Earlier, despite being dormmates and having cooperated a little, he still viewed Su Jie as a business partner he’d just met. After this, that line vanished.

“Let’s go.” Su Jie glanced at the groaning bodyguards on the ground, utterly unfazed. After facing real gunfire, this was nothing—ants, really.

They were about to leave when four people walked in.

Leading them was a middle-aged man in athletic casual wear, running shoes, and a golf cap—your classic successful businessman just back from the course. Behind him was a skinny bodyguard.

Beside him stood a young woman, around twenty-five. Next to her was a bearded middle-aged man in a Tang suit—looked like a “master,” but also like a mix of butler and guard.

They were clearly here to talk business.

“President Yun, Jiu Ding Security can guarantee your safety—especially overseas. You can travel and work freely without worrying about local gangs,” the young woman said.

She stopped mid-sentence.

All four of them froze—they’d seen the pile of groaning bodyguards.

Her voice died in her throat.

“What happened?” President Yun frowned, scanning the courtyard and then the four students.

No matter how he looked at them, they didn’t seem like the culprits. No scuffle marks on their clothes, and they were obviously students—Wang Shun even had a freshly issued university badge pinned to his chest.

The young woman was clearly the squad leader here. She’d ordered the clearing of the grounds to impress President Yun with her “security competence.”

This outcome was… not exactly the pitch she had in mind.

She shot a look at the “master.”

“Old Peng, go ask them.”

Old Peng strode toward them. His presence alone made Lin Tang swallow the words he was about to spit out. Same for Tan Dashì and Wang Shun—they shrank back instinctively.

Su Jie narrowed his eyes and waved him off. “Step aside.”

He’d already seen the relationship between this group and the fallen bodyguards. He had no interest in explaining anything.

“…Hmm?”

Old Peng’s eyes sharpened. His arm snapped out like a blade—five steel-like fingers clawing toward Su Jie’s collarbone. 

A classic Da Qinna technique.

Traditional martial arts had small qinna—wrists, fingers—and big qinna—any part of the body. Modern combat sports don’t train these; you can’t exactly apply joint-locks wearing gloves.

His fingers were long, hard, tinged blue—clearly someone who’d trained claw techniques like Eagle Claw. A true horizontal-strength practitioner; a grip like his could gouge bricks—and crush bone.

As he struck, Su Jie felt the sharp wind from his attack.

He angled his body slightly—just enough—slipping past the grab.

“What?” Old Peng was shocked. 

A university student dodging his grab? His qinna had twenty years of training behind it. He could crush bricks like powder and moved like lightning.

“These bodyguards—did you beat them?” He stared at Su Jie. “Why?”

“You cleared the area too violently—you nearly knocked over my friend,” Tan Dashì said coldly.

“Since you admit it, fine. Looks like you know a bit of kung fu. Kids don’t know their limits.” Old Peng ignored Tan Dashì. “You’re Q University students—I won’t make this too hard. However you injured those bodyguards, I’ll return it to you: dislocated arms, muscle spasms—exactly the same. Consider it a lesson.”

His eyes locked on Su Jie.

Su Jie just shook his head.

Old Peng lunged again—one hand grabbing at Su Jie’s chest, the other leg snapping out like a venomous snake. His lower-body movement was hidden, subtle, vicious—a real “shadowless kick,” aimed low at Su Jie’s calf to drop him.

The chained movement—grab up top, kick below—was fast, brutal, precise. His true skill finally showed.

Su Jie didn’t even look. He stepped forward slightly, absorbing the attack.

Old Peng’s grip hit iron. His kick hit steel. Pain shot through his foot.

This wasn’t a person—it was a mountain of bronze.

Su Jie had perfected horizontal training—his “Golden Body.” Unless someone used blades, fists and kicks did nothing. Even Old Peng’s penetrating strikes were useless.

Crack!

Su Jie raised his palm.

The intent: Heart-Intent Style — Hoe-Head Palm.

It descended like a falling sky.

Months of refining it—even spending a month doing real farm work with Gu Yang—had let him shift between any intent at will. Soft, hard, large, subtle, benevolent, ruthless—whatever he wanted.

This palm was an amalgamation of all martial concepts—ever-changing yet unified.

“Not good—” Old Peng felt the palm rise. It was like watching the sun break the horizon—inescapable, overwhelming.

The rising sun—no shadows to hide in.

Su Jie’s hand descended.

In that instant, he saw sunrise above a sea of clouds, and then infinite radiance falling to earth.

Before Old Peng could react, the palm struck his face.

Smack!

A crisp explosion. Stars burst in Old Peng’s vision. He spun like a drunk and dropped to the ground, dazed.

A perfect palm print, fingerprints and all, bloomed on his cheek.

Su Jie had held back. Otherwise, Old Peng’s skull would’ve caved in.

“Let’s go.” Leaving Old Peng stunned on the floor as if it were nothing, Su Jie walked to the doorway. He glanced at the young woman and President Yun. “Excuse us. Please step aside.”

Polite tone, courteous phrasing—yet colder than anything he’d done.

They instinctively stepped away. No one dared block them.

Wang Shun, Lin Tang, and Tan Dashì hurried after him, now orbiting him like he was their natural leader.

Just as the four of them were about to leave the alley, President Yun’s thin bodyguard looked like he wanted to chase after them—but Old Peng’s weak voice cut through the air: “Absolutely not.”

He forced himself up, finally clear-headed, and stopped him.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep