Chapter 823: Violent Iron Fist
Translator: Azza
The old tailor was still berating himself for betraying his neighbor, holding his shoulders and repeating to himself, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He suddenly saw the bandaged man walking towards him showing murderous intent while holding pliers in his hand.
"Ah!"
The old tailor screamed and immediately hugged the telephone pole.
The bandaged man squatted down beside him and began cutting the chain with the pliers. With a clack, the chain was cut. The old tailor stared in disbelief. He was free.
"Do you want to die?! You dare to fight against Brother Mo?!" A woman's face appeared in the window next to them. "Uh, who are you?"
The bandaged man glanced at the talking woman, then said to the old tailor, "Hurry home."
The old tailor didn't know what to say. Clutching his private parts, he rushed back to his house like a gush of steam.
The bandaged man wrapped the iron chain on the ground around his fist, clenched it, and walked out of Goupi Alley with iron determination.
In the loan shark’s office, a group of people were plopped on their chairs, smoking cigarettes as though they were taking drugs. Kaowei was tied up like a zongzi and placed on the table like a sacrificial tribute.
A subordinate asked, "Will he come?"
"If he doesn’t, would he still be a man?" The "Impressionist" said contemptuously.
"What if he just doesn’t come?"
The "Impressionist" gave Kaowei a cold look and said, "If your man doesn't come, how should we clean you up?"
"Go and clean up your mother!" Kaowei scolded angrily.
"Go find some toothpicks and string her cunt together."
"Toothpicks are too brittle. You have to use needles." A subordinate suggested seriously.
"Then go find a needle! You always ask me about everything. When I catch Wang Xi, I’ll become a big brother, attending important affairs every day. How would I find the time to deal with these minor things?" While thinking of a bright future, the "Impressionist" laughed happily and the subordinates did the same.
Suddenly, their smiles solidified on their faces. They could see a man in a windbreaker standing outside the door with his face wrapped in thick bandages, like a mummy crawling out of an ancient tomb. His whole body exuded a strange aura.
The "Impressionist" flicked the cigarette butt and went outside, tilting his head to look at the visitor. "Wang Xi?"
The bandaged man said, "Even if I said I wasn’t, you wouldn't believe it!"
"You aren’t?!" The "Impressionist" suddenly made an exaggerated action. "You are Wang Xi. Did you like the TV set I sent you back then? Your blown up face still isn’t better yet? Hahaha!"
"It doesn't matter whether I’m Wang Xi or not." The bandaged man wrapped his right fist with his left hand.
The "Impressionist" stopped laughing. He licked his lips. "Grab your tools guys. Just leave him with a single breath left!"
The subordinates pulled out wooden sticks from under the table and rushed out shouting. These wooden sticks were very sinister with iron nails on them. The bandaged man sent the front person flying with a side kick. After his right foot was back on the ground, his left leg was lifted up like a spring, kicking another subordinate.
The remaining few subordinates had already come close to him. One of them screamed as he lifted up his wooden stick to smash the bandaged man’s head. The bandaged man clenched his right fist and punched. The fist wrapped in iron chains was like a hammer. It shattered the wooden stick. He hit the subordinate's face and a bloody tooth flew out of his deformed mouth.
"Motherfucker!" The "Impressionist" cursed, grabbing the hair of a subordinate who was shrinking away, kicked him away, and snatched the wooden stick in his hands.
He made a strange sound of "ka-rak, ka-rak" in his mouth. The wooden stick danced in his hands so much it was dizzying just to watch it. The bandaged man dodged again and again. He found an opening to grab the wooden stick with his left hand, and hit the "Impressionist’s" head with his right fist.
The "Impressionist" had smashed his head into his opponent's fist. He was also powerful. The bandaged man’s fist was actually hurt by the iron chain. The "Impressionist" killed the enemy by a 1000 but harmed himself by 800 as well. His head was covered in blood.
He didn't hesitate at all. He laughed wildly and kicked the bandaged man's abdomen. The bandaged man staggered backwards as the "Impressionist" leaped forward like a mad dog. A hook kick was blocked by the bandaged man with his right fist. This was very aggressive. The flaw in it was also very large. The bandaged man grabbed the "Impressionist’s" leg, threw him out, then caught up with him again. When the "Impressionist" had just gotten up, he did a flying-kick. The "Impressionist" slid over a meter away on the ground. He vomited out a mouthful of blood, but the smile on his face became increasingly brighter.
"Little bitch, your skills have risen over the past two years!" The "Impressionist" wiped the blood away from his lips.
The bandaged man pointed to the office. "Bullying a woman? Don't you have a mother?"
"Don't compare my mother to this kind of woman!" The "Impressionist" roared. He rushed over and jumped directly into the air.
The bandaged man mistakenly judged his action as a kicking technique, but didn’t expect it to be a grappling technique with scissor feet. The "Impressionist’s" legs clamped onto the bandaged man, rotated around, and flipped the bandaged man to the ground using his weight. Both legs held the bandaged man's head tightly like iron tongs.
The bandaged man clenched his fist and punched his crotch several times. The "Impressionist", who had gained the upper hand, was almost shaken off by the iron fist within seconds. He screamed and separated from the bandaged man. He spun around on the ground and supported himself with his hands on the ground. His feet kicked at the bandaged man's face as though he was a scorpion.
This trick was so insidious that the bandaged man was caught off guard, but in the moment when the opponent pulled his leg back, he grabbed the ankle and quickly stood up as he backed away.
The "Impressionist" was forced to walk on the ground with his hands. When the bandaged man dragged him to a street light pole, he bellowed and smashed the "Impressionist" towards the telephone pole. The "Impressionist’s" waist hit the light pole, almost breaking it. He took advantage of the situation and hugged the light pole, kicking back vigorously.
Knowing that this youngster was good at legwork, the bandaged man was on guard this time and flexibly avoided his kicks. He judged the situation and used a very vicious trick, kicking the "Impressionist’s" waist repeatedly like a madman from the side.
The "Impressionist" who was hugging the pillar received the full impact of the kicks. He screamed and fell to the ground. The bandaged man then pulled him up by his clothes and punched him a few times in the face.
The more he was beaten, the more arrogant the "Impressionist" got. He threatened with blood in his mouth, "I will never let you go… I will sell that prostitute… I’ll make fifteen black people take turns on-"
"Go to hell!"
With a punch full of anger, the "Impressionist" passed out. His entire face was bloody. It was hard to look at.
The bandaged man was panting. The subordinates on the ground were either struggling, groaning, or had escaped. He walked towards the office and found that Kaowei was missing. He roughly searched the entire office when suddenly, the office landline rang.
He had a feeling that the call was for himself, so he picked it up. The other party said, "We agreed that you’d go into hiding and bury your name. You aren’t low-key at all. Is it worth it for the woman? Wang Xi, let's talk!"
"Release her. It has nothing to do with her!" the bandaged man said angrily.
"It has nothing to do with her, but she’s a chip that can be used to threaten you, just like how you’re threatening me with that thing. Let's meet!"
This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶