Chapter 6: Third Hall Master of Yishun Hall, Wu Zhongyi
The contemptuous words from the three men across the street stabbed into Lu Jingwu’s heart like daggers.
How could he allow these petty thugs to insult the great-uncle he had respected most since childhood?
"You’re looking to die!"
The rage boiling in Lu Jingwu’s chest could no longer be contained. With a furious roar, he exploded from his spot and lunged straight for the three men from Yishun Hall!
"Well, now! Good of you to come!"
The brawny man with a fleshy face on the right of the trio wasn’t shocked; he was delighted. A fierce battle lust erupted in his eyes as he took the initiative and charged forward to meet the attack!
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
The two figures collided in an instant. The muffled thuds of their fists and feet striking each other echoed down the now-empty street.
The crowd of onlookers, whether they were the Lu Family’s enforcers or members of the Poisonous Snake Gang, backed away in terror, clearing a battlefield for the two combatants.
Both were experts at the Peak of Mingjin, their strength and speed evenly matched.
But Lu Jingwu had been personally taught by Lu Yun since childhood, and he practiced the lethal, blood-drawing Heart-Breaking Fist.
His moves were vicious and cunning, each punch aimed at a vital point—the throat, the heart, the temples—with none of the flowery, impractical techniques common in martial arts exhibitions.
’What a tyrannical fist style!’
The brawny man grew more alarmed the longer they fought. Every time he tried to attack Lu Jingwu’s joints and vitals with his specialty claw technique, he was forced back on the defensive by those iron fists, which carried a shattering force.
After a dozen exchanges, he had taken successive punches to his chest and ribs.
Although he had managed to deflect some of the force, the impact had rattled his internal organs, causing him unbearable pain.
After another feint, a cold glint flashed in Lu Jingwu’s eyes. He seized the perfect moment—when his opponent’s old force was spent and new force had yet to be generated.
His right fist shot out like a cannonball, instantly tearing through the air with a sharp whistle as it smashed toward the man’s temple!
If this punch landed, it would mean instant death!
Facing a life-or-death crisis, the brawny man’s survival instincts kicked in. He took a hasty step back and violently jerked his head backward.
"RIP!"
The edge of the fist grazed past the corner of his eye, tearing the skin open. Blood instantly smeared across half his face!
A searing pain shot through him, but he had ultimately avoided the fatal blow.
He staggered back several steps, clutching the corner of his eye that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The look he gave Lu Jingwu was now laced with terror.
Seeing his subordinate retreat in such a sorry state, the face of the burly man in the middle, who bore a hideous black scar, darkened to a thunderous scowl. He immediately cursed him.
"Useless!"
Then, his gaze swept past Lu Jingwu and finally settled on Lu Yun, who had remained standing calmly with his cane the entire time. His eyes became incredibly dangerous.
Without the slightest hesitation, the black-scarred man kicked his useless, retreating subordinate aside and shot forward like a cheetah, pouncing directly at Lu Jingwu!
His speed was incredible, and his presence was on a completely different level from the previous man. He formed his five fingers into a claw, the tips of which had a faint, dark-blue tinge.
Before Lu Jingwu could even react, a gray figure intercepted without any warning!
It was Lu Fu!
He moved with extreme speed, intercepting the black-scarred man’s venomous claw with pinpoint precision.
Fist met claw, producing a dull thud.
The black-scarred man felt an irresistible surge of power drill up his arm.
He grunted, his fierce offensive instantly crumbling as he was forced to switch to defense.
Lu Fu pressed his advantage, sticking to him like a shadow.
He was also using Heart-Breaking Fist, but in his hands, the style became even more masterful, cunning, and ruthless!
While it lacked Lu Jingwu’s raw, explosive ferocity, it was like a cancer clinging to the bone.
Every punch landed on his opponent’s pressure points, joints, and the nodes where his energy shifted.
"BANG! BANG! CRACK!" A few more thuds were mixed with the sound of a bone breaking.
The black-scarred man roared in fury, but he couldn’t keep up with Ah Fu’s unpredictable rhythm.
The claw technique that the black-scarred man was usually so proud of was practically useless against him.
Finally, the black-scarred man took a solid punch to the chest. He felt as if he’d been struck by a sledgehammer, and blood sprayed violently from his mouth.
He staggered backward before collapsing to one knee, his face as pale as a sheet.
Ah Fu followed with a leisurely stroll, placing his withered hand gently on the back of the black-scarred man’s neck. A slight exertion of force was all it would take to crush his cervical vertebrae.
Just as the black-scarred man’s life hung by a thread, the grand revolving glass door of the Ping’an Restaurant across the street slid open.
Six people walked out at an unhurried pace.
The five in front were all powerfully built guards in short-fitting attire. Their gazes were sharp and their demeanors calm; they were clearly a group of skilled martial artists.
Surrounded in their midst was a man in his early forties.
He wore the modified-style clothing currently in vogue in the Daxia New Country: a well-pressed, yellow silk long-gown, a tailored suit vest over it, and a pair of shiny leather shoes on his feet.
The man’s gaze swept over the scene, finally landing on Lu Fu’s hand, which was still gripping the black-scarred man’s neck.
Not only was there no anger on his face, but he even wore a rather warm smile. His voice was mild and gentle as he spoke.
"My, my, Brother Fu, it’s been a while. Your skills are as sharp as ever."
"If this worthless disciple of mine has offended you in any way, feel free to teach him a lesson. There’s no need to get so worked up, is there?"
As his voice fell, Zhang Hong and all the members of the Poisonous Snake Gang bowed in unison, shouting at the top of their lungs, "Third Master!"
The newcomer was none other than Wu Zhongyi, the Third Hall Master of Yishun Hall, one of the three great Cao Bang gangs in Yun Port City.
Known in the martial underworld as "Mad Third."
His "Soul-Chasing Iron Claw" technique was vicious and cunning, and it was said he had crippled countless famous figures with it.
Lu Fu acted as if he hadn’t heard Wu Zhongyi at all. His withered fingers remained firmly clasped on the vital point of the black-scarred man’s neck.
He didn’t loosen his grip in the slightest; in fact, he made it difficult for the black-scarred man to even breathe.
His eyelids were slightly lowered, his posture as steady as an ancient pine, waiting only for Lu Yun’s command.
Seeing this, the warm smile on Wu Zhongyi’s face faded a fraction, and an almost imperceptible coldness flashed in the depths of his eyes.
However, he didn’t lash out, nor did he spare another glance for his "beloved disciple," whose life hung in the balance.
Wu Zhongyi’s eyes passed over Lu Jingwu, who was struggling to contain his fury, and finally locked onto Lu Yun, the man who had been leaning on his cane from the very beginning.
This was the person he truly cared about, the one he found truly troublesome.
The Stabilizing Needle of the Lu Family, a sixty-year-old "living fossil" of Yun Port City.
Moreover, Wu Zhongyi held a secret in his heart that very few people knew.
On the night the Qing Bang was annihilated twenty years ago, he had been just an insignificant minor leader within the gang.
Wu Zhongyi had personally witnessed how that demon-like figure, with nothing but his bare fists, had slaughtered his own Gang Leader—a man he had considered powerful, unmatched, and invincible—along with nine other high-ranking members as if they were mere melons and vegetables.
That scene became the nightmare that haunted Wu Zhongyi for countless nights afterward. It also became his most visceral and terrifying understanding of the concept of "power."
Lu Yun, the Former Martial Scholar. Even after twenty years, the oppressive weight of that name still pressed down heavily on Wu Zhongyi’s heart.