Chapter Fifty-Seven: Reversal!

The useless dragon, exclaiming in hopes of earning spirit stones and flattering, said,
"Heh, that Chen Bo is so ignorant, daring to go against you, young master. He’s just courting death! Who in Sunyang City doesn’t know Young Master Guo? He’s one of the most outstanding youths around. Only our young master is worthy of Yu Xin’er, so what does Chen Bo count for?"
Immediately, a sycophantic follower stepped forward to heap praise, and the other attendants wailed internally, regretting that they hadn’t been as quick-witted just now. Now someone else had seized the opportunity ahead of them. But perhaps it wasn’t too late to join in.
"Exactly! Who is our young master, and who is Chen Bo? Does he even deserve to be compared to our young master?"
"Young master, I think Chen Long is sure to win this time! Let this be a warning to others. From now on, besides our young master, who else would dare approach Yu Xin’er? No, she should be called the Young Mistress!"
Guo Liu’s brows stretched in delight. He looked at them approvingly, nodding with satisfaction, "Good, very good! You’ll be richly rewarded! Ha ha ha! From now on, when you see Xin’er, you lot must never call her by name—she’s Young Mistress, understood?"
Unlike the gleeful Guo Liu, the livestream room was in utter chaos!
"I don’t think the streamer can hold out this time!"
"Damn, streamer, I just sent you tens of thousands of yuan in tips! Don’t let my money go to waste! No, don’t let my goodwill go to waste!"
"Shit, Chen Long’s attacks are way too brutal—even to his own kin, he’s lethal. If this were Earth, I’d shoot him myself. There’s no way a rookie at the Body Tempering stage could dodge a bullet!"
"What a pitiful world, where lives are as worthless as weeds!"
"Streamer, get up! Damn it, you’re about to die, but you’re not getting up? Isn’t your name Chen Bo? Why aren’t you ‘bo’-ing up?"
On Earth, countless viewers were glued to their screens, all work forgotten, eyes fixed on Chen Bo, pinned underfoot. Hearing Chen Long’s arrogant words, it was as if they suffered alongside him; everyone’s hearts clenched, their hands gripping so tightly their knuckles turned white.
On this day, who knew how many mice were crushed, how many keyboards smashed? The worst hit were the internet cafes—innumerable owners had already collapsed in tears in their washrooms.
In a certain attic in Zhongnanhai, Chen Bo’s parents, sister, and relatives sat together in a hall. A projector displayed the live scene from the streaming room.

"Son, don’t be a coward! If anything happens to you, your dad will beat you senseless!"
"Old Bo, if you’re a real brother, get Chen Bo to hack that guy down for me! You still owe me a beer, remember?"
"Nephew, hang in there!"
"Bo, remember what Mom taught you? If anyone bullies you, just come home! Hurry back, don’t suffer out there!"
"Brother, you promised to travel to France with me! You can’t break your word!"
Chen Bo coughed violently. After several kicks from Chen Long, he felt as if his bones had shattered. His abdomen was visibly sunken, the extent of his injuries known only to himself—it hurt terribly, breathing was a struggle.
His mind was clouded, longing for sleep.

No! He mustn’t sleep! He absolutely cannot! He was meant to be a man who would conquer the system—how could he die at the hands of a minor character? And to be kicked to death, no less!
Chen Bo bit his tongue, the sharp pain instantly clearing his mind. He tried to speak, but his mouth was full of blood, not a word could come out.
He couldn’t die—he still had plenty of time to waste! Unconsciously, a hint of pleading appeared in his eyes, and he whimpered.
Chen Long saw this clearly, and with a mocking smile said, "What’s the matter? Is our great genius trying to say something? If you have any last words, feel free. But if you’re begging for mercy, tough luck—this is a duel to the death. Someone must die."
At this moment, Chen Long’s vanity was immensely satisfied. The person he hated most was finally about to die at his hands!

He bent down slightly, wanting to catch Chen Bo’s murmurs, but heard only four words: "Go to hell!"

A howl of pain, so dreadful it was almost inhuman, rang out. Chen Bo’s lower leg had struck Chen Long’s groin dead center. The scream was loud, but everyone seemed to hear something shatter; almost every man felt a chill between his legs.

The Ninefold Killing Fist operated at its peak—a single strike, nearly seven hundred pounds of force, landed on that delicate spot. The outcome was inevitable.

The area was already a mangled mess, a foul-smelling liquid soaking half his trousers.

Taking advantage of this, Chen Bo quickly broke free from Chen Long’s grip. Without a second thought, he raised his longsword and swung down with all his might.

In his severely injured state, the sword missed Chen Long’s head, instead cleaving into his right shoulder.

Flesh and blood could never withstand a sword sharp enough to cut iron as if it were mud; with almost no resistance, the blade penetrated to the bone. In a fleeting instant, a long arm fell to the ground, twitched a few times, then lay still.

"Ahh! My hand! My hand!" Chen Long finally reacted, the agony in his groin and shoulder forcing him to his knees. His venomous gaze locked onto Chen Bo, and he spat out each word, "You’re able to cultivate!"

He had felt it—Chen Bo’s kick nearly sent him flying. Such strength could never come from a useless person; there was only one possibility: Chen Bo was no longer a waste!

"Ha, cough, cough!" Chen Bo tried to throw his head back and laugh, but the pain only made him weaker, his condition dangerously unstable.

"Surprised? You used to call me a waste, which really pissed me off. Then one night, I suddenly had an epiphany. Even the heavens helped me—it seems fate doesn’t want me to die so soon!"

"I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!" Chen Long’s face was contorted, screaming hysterically.

Chen Bo managed a smile uglier than crying, and said, "Kill me? If you’ve got the guts, come on! But can you even walk now? Maybe you could crawl with your hands."

"Oh, sorry, I almost forgot—you only have one hand left. But maybe that’s not so bad, you can still crawl. Just slower, that’s all. Come on, I’m standing right here; if you can make it over, I won’t fight back!"

Just moments ago, it was Chen Long mocking Chen Bo. Now, the roles had suddenly reversed—Chen Bo was basking in satisfaction, while Chen Long was on the verge of coughing up blood.