Era of Mist

Just a moment ago, some strange sounds had come from another luxury private room near Shi Tiexin’s. Of course, this place was full of strange sounds, and the rooms were well soundproofed, so it hadn’t drawn any attention.

But a moment later, the room’s door was suddenly flung open, and a girl scrambled out. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes were torn. She looked utterly terrified, screaming something as she fled.

Then, about a dozen Westerners burst out of the room. One of the white men wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist, hoisted her into the air, and with a laugh, tossed her back toward a hulking black man who was clearly the center of the group. The young woman tried to struggle, but the large black man slapped her viciously across the face. The blow left her completely stunned.

With his fingers splayed, the man grabbed the girl’s face and lifted her entirely off the ground, his fingers like iron pincers. THUD. The hulking man slammed her against the wall. The impact of her head against the wall made her eyes roll back. She struggled, but she was powerless to move his arm and could only suffocate, slowly and helplessly.

The hulking black man’s face was devoid of expression. He made no further move, standing there with a strange, wooden stillness, merely watching the woman in his grasp struggle. The other Westerners, however, roared with laughter, their expressions arrogant and utterly fearless.

People from other private rooms peeked out to see what was going on, only to be met with a barrage of "Fuck you!" from the Westerners, who yelled them back into their rooms. The other patrons seemed to recognize the group and, not wanting to get involved, quickly backed off and kept their distance.

"No, no, no, gentlemen, please calm down!" The madam appeared instantly, trying to defuse the situation in fairly fluent English. "Our girls here are performers, they don’t sell their bodies! They’ll drink with you, but they won’t sleep with you! Of course, you gentlemen are welcome to get to know her, have a drink, share a meal, chat a little—Ah!"

SLAP. Without a word, one of the white men knocked the madam to the floor.

"Fuck you, bitch! It’s not ’selling’ if we don’t pay for it!"

The madam lay on the carpet, clutching her face.

’Of course, a scene like this doesn’t scare me.’ She had already figured it out. She’d seen plenty of trouble started by drunks, but these guys weren’t nearly that intoxicated. ’They’re clearly here to start something on purpose!’

’So why should I be polite?’

BAM! The madam shot up with a kick straight to the man’s groin, doubling him over like a shrimp. "Security!" she yelled. "Get them!"

A group of men in suits appeared at the end of the hall and sprinted menacingly toward the commotion. The establishment kept a lot of security on hand to control situations like this. About twenty men charged in at once, and the two groups immediately fell into a chaotic brawl.

There were people and shouts everywhere. The madam didn’t even get up. Sticking her rear in the air, she crawled between the forest of legs, trying to get clear of the main fight. But after a few heavy THUMPS, several of her men in suits crashed down beside her. They were all clutching their chests, too pained to even speak.

"What?!" The madam was stunned. She whipped her head around and her eyes went wide. "Impossible!" she shrieked.

The hallway behind her was littered with her men, all groaning in pain on the floor. Meanwhile, the hulking black man at the center of it all simply dusted off his clothes with an air of complete disdain. Some of the Westerners had taken a few hits, but none were seriously injured. Her side, on the other hand, had been almost completely wiped out.

A shriek drew her attention. The young woman who had tried to escape during the chaos had been caught again.

SLAP. The same hulking black man grabbed her by the neck again, hoisting her against the wall with a single hand. The girl beat frantically against his arm, but it was as unmoving as cast iron.

The tall, powerful man’s face was a blank, grim mask as he watched the woman before him. He watched her pale neck sink beneath his fingers. He watched her struggle desperately, but to no avail. He watched her eyes slowly roll back in her head. He watched tears stream from the corners of her eyes and blood seep from where she’d bitten her lip.

The man’s face remained impassive, but a fanatical, expectant light grew in his eyes.

Her hands dropped limply to her sides. The woman’s face had turned a deep, purplish-blue, and her body began to twitch unnaturally.

At last, a strange smile touched the corners of the man’s mouth.

Just then, a sudden roundhouse kick flew through the air, cracking against his wrist. THUMP. The girl dropped to the floor. She took a ragged gasp of air and began to cough painfully, unable to get back up.

The newcomer was a lean, formidable man in a black leather jacket. It was Ah D.

Ah D roared in fury, unleashing a volley of kicks at his opponent. The downed men in suits struggled back to their feet. Those still standing rallied what strength they had left. For a moment, their side’s morale surged.

But the more Ah D kicked, the more his heart sank.

He was a trained fighter, of course—one who had put in serious, hard work, with all his skill concentrated in his legs. He had intended for that first roundhouse kick to shatter the man’s wrist, but his opponent seemed completely unfazed. Each subsequent kick felt like striking a block of iron. Although he managed to force the man back a few steps, it was his own leg that was starting to ache.

’He’s an expert!’

’Where did an expert like this come from?’

The other Westerners were also highly skilled fighters. They quickly beat back the counterattack from the men in suits.

BAM! A white man stomped on the chest of one of the men in suits, grinding his heel in before delivering another savage kick to his torso. The man nearly vomited blood from the force of the blow.

𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"Pathetically weak trash!" the white man roared with laughter, acting as if he were king of the world. In heavily accented, bizarre-sounding Chinese, he snarled, "Inferior yellow race!"

At the same time, a few of the others circled around. They sneered as they lunged at Ah D from behind, intending to trap him in a pincer attack.

Just then, with a deafening CRASH, the door to a private room along the corridor was flung open.

The door flew open with such force that the thick, heavy panel slammed into the white man, sending him flying backward like a ping-pong ball.

The other Westerners froze, completely stunned.

THUD. THUD. Amidst the heavy footsteps, a mountain of a man, well over two meters tall, appeared.

He wore a black leather jacket and black sunglasses. His aura was overwhelmingly domineering, his face cast in shadow—an imposing figure that would make devils weep. But the crucial part was—he was carrying a table!

He had carried the large table, the kind used for drinking and feasting, right out of the private room!

Before the Westerners could react, with a low WHOOSH, Shi Tiexin put all his strength into swinging the massive table in a full circle, then hurled it toward the cluster of men.

It cut through the air with a sound like muffled thunder.

CRASH! CRACK! A chorus of agonized cries erupted. Some were hit directly. Others were knocked over by the bodies of the fallen. Still others tripped and fell over themselves trying to dodge. In an instant, the Westerners’ formation was thrown into complete chaos.