Reborn in the 60s, I hunt to support my family and even seduce the village beauty.

Fan Laibao rode at the very front, his face covered in bruises and his mouth swollen, making him look rather comical.

He rode his bike straight at Chang Kun, his neck stiff, his eyes glaring, yelling, "I'll run you over!"

Chang Kun didn't even move; he simply stepped on the front wheel.

The bike suddenly stopped, and Fan Laibao was thrown off the handlebars, landing in a pile of dry grass. He rolled half a circle and lay on the ground groaning.

Seven or eight bicycles followed and surrounded Chang Kun.

The leader was a burly man with a blue dragon tattoo. He parked his car, spat on the ground, pointed at Chang Kun, and started speaking.

"Are you some kind of donkey? You've managed to throw yourself all the way to Tangshan? Do you even know who's in charge here?"

A weasel-faced guy on the left chimed in, "Guys, this kid's probably looking for trouble—like rowing a boat in a cesspool!"

A chubby man on the right added, "I think he's an old man who's had enough of hanging himself—he's tired of living!"

"Brother Dao, look at the way he's acting, like he's brandishing a big knife on a grave—trying to scare the ghosts."

The tattooed guy smirked as the group of people amused him.

"Hey guys, he's from Beijing, we need to be polite. As the saying goes, 'If you have a butt, you don't have to worry about getting beaten'—he's practically begging to come here!"

"You've got a sharp tongue, kid. But even if it's crude, there's some truth to it. Do you think we men from Tangshan would let someone from Beijing run wild on our turf?"

Fan Laibao got up from the ground, his face covered in mud and ash, half of his face swollen, and squeezed to the front, pointing at Chang Kun in a hoarse voice.

"Brother Dao, that's him! You break his leg for me, and I'll treat the rest of us to a week of drinks at Hongyanlou!"

Dao Ge ignored him, looked Chang Kun up and down, took the cigarette out of his mouth, flicked off the ash, and slowly opened his mouth.

"From Beijing? Acting so arrogant in Tangshan, is your dad Li Gang?"

As soon as he said that, all seven or eight people laughed.

Chang Kun was taken aback when he heard the name Li Gang, but then he realized something was off. These days, who would be named Li Gang? He figured it was just a name made up on the spot.

Anyway, these people curse without using any swear words. They're like a comedian, one curse after another, with no two curses the same.

Fan Laibao pulled out another small knife from somewhere, a bit bigger than the previous one, its blade gleaming in the sunlight.

He gripped the knife, brandished it at Chang Kun a couple of times, and yelled shrilly, "I'm going to bleed you dry today!"

He shouted some tough words, but didn't take a single step forward, clearly because he was terrified of Chang Kun's previous beating.

Dao Ge wasn't in a hurry. He put the cigarette in his mouth, put his hands in his pockets, and took two steps forward.

He didn't look at Chang Kun, but tilted his head to talk to Fan Laibao, speaking in a casual, conversational tone.

"Laibao, tell this guy, what happened to that guy from last year who challenged us on Jianguo Road?"

Fan Laibao was stunned for a moment, then perked up, his hoarse voice suddenly rising in pitch, brandishing the knife in his hand, spitting everywhere.

"You mean that guy? That kid was even stronger than him, his arms were thicker than my thighs, and what happened?"

He imitated Dao Ge's tone of voice.

"Brother Dao slapped the kid across the face, and he spun around three times, completely disoriented. Brother Dao then kicked him, and the kid tumbled and crawled for three blocks, his pants falling down, and he went home naked!"

Several people nearby joined in the commotion, laughing and joking.

The person next to him spoke up again: "Later, when that kid saw Brother Dao, he would take a detour across the street, like a mouse seeing a cat."

Dao Ge flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground, ground it with his toe, and then turned to look at Chang Kun, deliberately dragging out the sound to appear very imposing.

"Did you hear that? It's only natural for a cat to catch a mouse."

"If you know what's good for you, apologize to Laibao and give him thirty or fifty yuan for medical expenses. We brothers won't ask you for more. We'll each give you five yuan for the errand, round it up to one hundred yuan. That'll settle things."

Upon hearing this, Fan Laibao's smile vanished instantly. He gripped the knife even tighter and shouted at Daoge.

"Brother Dao! Just paying money is enough? He beat me up like this, I almost got a concussion, and you think making him apologize is enough?"

Dao Ge turned to look at him, his brow furrowing slightly: "Then what do you suggest?"

Fan Laibao pointed at Chang Kun, raising his voice eight octaves higher.

"Beat him! Beat him to the ground! Then pay him back! I can't let this face of mine get away with this! My wife's already run away!"

Chang Kun was delighted.

"Pay up? Apologize?" He glanced at Dao Ge. "You guys probably haven't been taught a lesson."

Dao Ge looked him up and down, then suddenly reached behind his waist and pulled out a gleaming knife with a blade two or three inches long, which he then threw on the ground.

"I won't bully you, you're from the capital. You don't have a knife, and I won't use one either."

As he spoke, he unbuttoned two buttons on his black vest, revealing the black hair on his chest, and spread his hands in front of him, striking a pose.

Chang Kun glanced at him, somewhat surprised.

Although this man was a street thug, the few words he uttered had a certain江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and chivalry) air about them, and he didn't even need to use a knife.

He thought to himself that he could go easy on her later.

Dao Ge took a step forward and punched Chang Kun in the face with great force.

Chang Kun dodged to the side, and the fist grazed past his ear. He then casually slapped Dao Ge's elbow with the "Cut Palm" move from the Eighteen Styles of Sanshou. The force was not great, but the position was precise.

Dao Ge's arm went numb all at once, from his fingertips to his shoulder. His entire arm felt like it had been ripped out of its tendons, hanging limply and powerless.

He cried out "Ah!" and took three steps back, covering his right arm with his left hand. The expression on his face changed from fierce to horrified.

"Again." Chang Kun stood still.

Dao gritted his teeth, switched to his left fist, and this time he was smarter. He didn't hit straight down, but feinted first before smashing down.

As his fist came down, Chang Kun flipped his wrist, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him in the direction of his force.

Dao Ge lost his balance, staggered forward two steps, tripped over dry grass roots, and fell headfirst to the ground, his mouth full of dirt.

Two moves, clean and efficient.

The seven or eight people around were all stunned.

They didn't even notice the cigarette falling from their lips; their eyes were wide open like saucers, their eyeballs almost popping out.

Dao Ge got up from the ground, spat out the dirt in his mouth, and looked at Chang Kun, his expression changing repeatedly.

He'd been around for so many years and had seen plenty of capable fighters, but he'd never seen anyone like Chang Kun who could take someone down just by standing still.

Fan Laibao stood at the very back, still holding the knife in his hand, but his grip on it began to tremble.

He glanced at Dao Ge lying on the ground, then at Chang Kun. All the fierceness on his face vanished, leaving only a deathly pale expression.

Dao Ge was the person he admired the most, yet he was so easily defeated by Chang Kun.

He had already secretly slipped away, his footsteps light, like a thief.

Chang Kun stepped forward and grabbed his collar.

"Fan Laibao, trying to run away?"

"Since your brothers are all here, let them hear what you did to our parents."

"Let them meet you, their good brother!"

Fan Laibao's legs trembled, and his face turned green.