One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Ivan was furious.

His muscles bulged again, and the veins under his skin stood out like earthworms, throbbing with veins. His eyes turned an unnatural blood red, like two glowing embers.

His aura suddenly surged!

"roar!"

He let out a roar that sounded inhuman, so loud that dust fell from the ceiling of the hall.

His speed increased again—he crashed into Zhang Chulan like a cannonball!

This time, he didn't use his fists. Instead, he charged in with his entire body, intending to crush this annoying "rat" in the most savage and direct way!

Like a runaway locomotive, it came roaring in!

"Has it gone berserk?"

Nie Lingfeng frowned.

Ivan had clearly used some kind of secret method to unleash his potential—his strength and speed had increased dramatically, but there would likely be side effects. He noticed that the blood vessels in the whites of Ivan's eyes were spreading towards his pupils, and the blood vessels under his skin were throbbing and bulging, as if they were about to burst.

"Chu Lan is in danger!"

Wang Zhenqiu also sensed something was wrong. His hands clenched involuntarily, his knuckles turning white.

Faced with this attack, which resembled a charging bull, Zhang Chulan seemed to have no way to avoid it.

A look of panic appeared on his face, and lightning flashed around his feet. He seemed to want to run away, but he seemed to be locked on by the other party's violent aura, and his movements were a beat slower.

A cruel pleasure flashed in Ivan's eyes.

It was as if I could already see the other person's bones broken, tendons snapped, blood gushing out, flying backward—like a sparrow hit by a car, torn to pieces.

however.

Just as Ivan was about to collide with Zhang Chulan—

The "panic" expression on Zhang Chulan's face suddenly disappeared.

Instead, a hint of cunning appeared.

And...sympathy?

The lightning that had been flashing wildly suddenly ceased, and his body arched backward in an extremely bizarre posture, almost parallel to the ground. At the same time, he slammed his feet into the ground, propelling himself forward like an arrow released from a bow—not backward, but...

forward.

He slipped through the extremely brief gap created by the impact beneath Ivan's raised arms!

Their bodies brushed past each other, so close that Zhang Chulan could smell the sweat and blood on Ivan.

Moreover, at the very moment their bodies crossed—

Zhang Chulan brought his right index and middle fingers together, and with a point of highly refined, almost transparent white lightning, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, he silently struck a specific acupoint on Ivan's spine.

"Lei Fa - Dian Jiang Chun (fake)".

Zhang Chulan silently recited it in his heart.

This was a dirty trick he haphazardly devised by combining thunder magic with some rudimentary acupressure techniques passed down in his family—not very powerful, but its strength lay in its concealment and targeted nature, specifically designed to break through the "qi nodes" of external martial arts. It was like finding a crack in an iron armor and then stuffing a needle into it.

Ivan's seemingly inevitable strike completely missed its mark.

The immense inertia propelled him forward several more steps before he could barely regain his footing. He stumbled, leaving several black marks on the ground with the soles of his shoes.

He turned around in surprise, not understanding how the other person had dodged him.

The next second—

His expression changed drastically!

He felt a sharp, tingling, and highly destructive lightning force instantly burrow into his body, like a maggot clinging to his bone, at the spot on his back where he had been struck!

The force of lightning traveled up the spine and straight to the back of the head!

The Qi that was originally flowing smoothly within his body, supporting his hard martial arts training, suddenly stagnated and became chaotic—like a river that was originally flowing smoothly, but suddenly had a hole blown in the middle, and the water scattered and fled, never to be gathered again.

"Ugh!"

Ivan let out a painful groan.

Its massive body staggered, its feet feeling like they were stepping on cotton, swaying unsteadily.

The bronze sheen on his skin faded at a visible speed—from bronze to dark bronze, from dark bronze to grayish-white, like a lamp being extinguished.

The swollen muscles began to shrink as if deflated, the shoulders collapsed, the pectoral muscles deflated, and the whole person seemed to have had their bones removed and went limp.

The intense pain from the backlash made the veins on his forehead bulge, and his whole body trembled uncontrollably, as if he had a high fever.

opportunity!

How could Zhang Chulan let go of such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

He didn't pause at all. The instant he struck his opponent, he used the force to bounce back—in mid-air, his entire body blazing with lightning to its maximum, transforming him into a dazzling little sun!

The light was so bright that people who were close by instinctively squinted.

"Lei Fa - Thunder VIP - Full Power - Super Invincible Serious Punch!!"

The name of the middle twenty-footed man was shouted out with a loud roar.

Then—that fist, which gathered all the lightning energy in his body and even faintly carried a golden light, slammed solidly and without any fancy moves into Ivan's big, fleshy face, which was contorted with pain!

"Bang!!!!!!!"

A dull, muffled sound, like a hammer smashing a watermelon.

Ivan's massive body, over two and a half meters tall, was struck head-on by a high-speed train—his feet left the ground, his enormous body was thrown backward in a rather ungraceful arc, and crashed into the paralyzed giant several meters away.

"boom!"

The remaining fragments of the giant were smashed and scattered, raising a cloud of grayish-white powder.

Ivan's body bounced off the giant, then rolled to the ground, face down, and remained motionless.

On his face, a clear, charred fist mark was deeply sunken—his nasal bone was probably broken, his mouth was crooked, and several bloody teeth flew far away, landing on the ground with a "clanging" sound.

The entire room fell silent.

Only after Zhang Chulan landed, grimacing and inhaling sharply, did he shake his slightly numb right hand, exclaiming, "Hiss—this person's skin is really thick! My hand is completely numb from the shock!"

His hand-waving motion was exaggerated, as if he had been burned.

A moment later.

"In the first match, Zhang Chulan from the Chinese side wins."

Bald Bear's face was ashen, and he practically spat out those words through clenched teeth. His voice was dry and hoarse, as if it had been ground from a millstone.

His men rushed over to check on Ivan—thankfully, he was still breathing, just unconscious. His face would probably need serious repairs; his nose was broken, several teeth were missing, and his chin was crooked. His already unattractive face was now even more unsightly.

"You flatter me!"

Zhang Chulan smiled, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and walked back to his side.

He was greeted by Wang Zhenqiu's thumbs-up—raised high like a flag. Wang Ye Daoist's eyes held a slight smile—a smile hidden deep within his weary eyes, like the winter sun, not intense but warm.

Even Nie Lingfeng nodded almost imperceptibly. The gesture was so small that it was barely noticeable unless one looked closely. But Zhang Chulan saw it and felt a surge of joy.

Chen Duo silently handed him a small bottle of ointment, gesturing for him to wipe his hands. The ointment was in a small white porcelain bottle, sealed with a thin layer of wax, and emitted a faint herbal scent.

"Well done, but the name you came up with was terrible."

Wang Zhenqiu commented. His eyebrows were raised high, and he looked disgusted.

"What do you know? This is called momentum!"

Zhang Chulan was unconvinced and took the ointment, smearing it haphazardly on his hands. The ointment felt cool on his hands, and the numbness and pain from the recoil of the punch immediately lessened considerably.

His gaze turned toward the bald bear, and he raised his chin even higher.

"Hey, Bald Bear, who's next? Hurry up, let's finish this job and call it a day. I'm waiting to go back for a midnight snack!"

Bald Bear's face darkened even more.

He looked behind him. Ivan was one of his strongest warriors, his physical prowess nearly perfected—ranking among the best in the entire Ussuriysk underworld. And yet, he had been defeated in such a toy-like manner.

His remaining men, though some were skilled, were all inferior to Ivan. He looked at them one by one, and they all lowered their heads. Not one of them dared to meet his gaze.

"I'll take on the second round myself!"

Bald Bear gritted his teeth.

He ripped off his tattered leather jacket and threw it on the ground with a thud, revealing his muscular upper body—covered with various scars and tattoos, densely packed like an abstract painting. New wounds and old scars intertwined, a shocking sight.

He cracked his thick neck, making a "crackling" sound, as if something was breaking.

He stared fiercely at Zhang Chulan—like a wild beast driven to the brink of despair.

"Kid, let's settle our score from earlier!"

His voice was deep and dangerous, like the rumble of thunder before a storm.

"Oh ho, the boss is personally getting involved?"

Zhang Chulan raised an eyebrow, about to speak—

But a steady hand pressed down on his shoulder.

The hand wasn't strong, but it was very steady. So steady that Zhang Chulan could feel the heartbeat of the hand's owner—steady, slow, and perfectly calm.

"I'll take this one."

Nie Lingfeng had already walked up to him without him noticing.

He said calmly

When Bald Bear took off his signature tattered leather jacket, many people present heard the sound of fabric tearing—not that the jacket itself was torn, but that his arms were so thick that the cuffs were caught on his biceps and he used brute force to tear it open.

His leather jacket slammed to the ground, revealing a muscular physique, as if sculpted from granite. The crisscrossing scars appeared even more gruesome under the harsh white light of the emergency lights—knife wounds, gunshot wounds, burns, and some marks whose origins were indistinguishable, densely covering his chest, shoulders, and arms like a map drawn with scars.

He twisted his thick neck, and the cracking sounds were particularly clear in the quiet hall, as if something was being forcibly broken. His large, copper-bell-like eyes were fixed on Nie Lingfeng, their ferocity almost overflowing, and the veins around his eyes were throbbing.

Just now, Zhang Chulan had tricked his strongest subordinate, "Berserk Bear" Ivan, and won in such an "unscrupulous" way—using underhanded tactics like "Monkey Stealing a Peach" and "Lightning Poison Dragon Drill"—making him lose face and leaving him seething with anger. Now, he finally found an outlet, and the anger felt like it was burning through his internal organs.

"Kid, your buddy pulled a dirty trick earlier, now it's my turn to settle the score with you!"

Bald Bear spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, which landed on the ground, creating a small, dark red crater—from being hit by rubble earlier, and a small cut on his lip. He slammed his fists together, producing a dull thud, like two iron plates striking each other. A fierce, savage aura rose from him, like a wild beast that had been caged for too long finally being released.