Chapter 73: The Arrival of Young Master Gong!

Gong Shaolin’s words were hardly targeted, delivered in a calm tone, yet everyone felt as though their faces had been slapped soundly. Chen Kaimin and his group flushed with suppressed anger, a burning urge to shout rising within them. Damn it, what good is being able to fight? Is our status really measured by brute force? Besides, isn’t he showing off a bit too early, acting as if he’s some great fighter!

Still, none of them could be entirely certain about this pretty boy’s skills. From the way he had subdued the fat leader earlier, perhaps not exceptional, but at least his moves were decisive and swift. And with such composure—perhaps he really was tough?

For now, they could only watch him show off in silence. If anyone could read minds, they’d see that, though Chen Kaimin’s group appeared to be on Gong Shaolin’s side, each of them secretly harbored malicious hopes of seeing him thrashed and humiliated.

The first match was to feature the protagonist? The fat man mused silently. Among this group of young gentlemen, the only one he truly found unpredictable was this youth. Since he was to go first, it would be the perfect chance to gauge his ability. If he was just a pretender, he deserved a beating. If he really had some skill, he’d gladly give him some face. But the remaining matches—those he would surely win. That way, the gentleman would leave with dignity, and he himself could descend the stage gracefully. If his face escaped the fate of being smashed by that bottle, all the better.

“Shaolin brother...” Xie Xiaoqin tugged at Gong Shaolin’s sleeve, worry written plainly across her face.

“It’s fine...” Gong Shaolin, in a gentle manner, pinched her cheek, causing her to blush. He then casually took off his suit jacket and handed it to her, loosened his tie, and undid several buttons on his shirt. In an instant, the refined, elegant gentleman transformed, acquiring a hint of wildness. With his delicate and handsome features, this wild edge was even more alluring. Xie Xiaoqin, holding his jacket, was utterly entranced, while the other men looked on, first taken aback, then inwardly scoffing, “Bah, pretty boy!”

Even the fat man was dazzled for a moment, his face darkening. Yet he kept his wits, murmuring, “Guozi, be careful.”

“Hmph!” Guozi sneered, shooting Gong Shaolin a vicious grin. “Let’s hope you’re not just a poser. Otherwise, you can leave behind the hand you used to smash the boss’s bottle today!”

How domineering! Guozi’s words fired up his group—yet, if one looked closely, even Chen Kaimin’s clique was nodding in agreement, as if both sides were united.

Guo Lang, watching from the sidelines, found it amusing. Truly, the most lethal kind of showboating is the kind done without words. Gong Shaolin merely sprinkled a bit of charm, struck a pose, and the crowd was reacting in a frenzy, disregarding even their own allegiances.

“Second Brother Xie, what do you think?” Guo Lang asked, passing him a piece of old beef, smiling.

“What’s there to say?” Xie Lin, for the first time, showed a speechless expression. Others might not know, but he did—Gong Shaolin, an extraordinary being, was about to take on an ordinary man. This showboating was bound to be rock-solid.

In the center, the two had already taken their places. Guozi stripped off his shirt, revealing his bronzed, solid muscles. He raised his right foot slightly, his left hand half-clenched and leaning forward, striking a familiar pose.

Li Chao blinked, “Still the Muay Thai style!” Everyone nodded—the world’s top three self-destructive martial arts, and perhaps not even third.

Gong Shaolin, by contrast, stood with serene composure, not adopting any defensive stance, simply standing there. This raised his aura even higher.

“Are we starting?” Guozi was provoked by his manner.

“Go ahead, whenever you’re ready...”

Guozi’s face twisted into a dark, sinister grin. Without further words, he moved, left foot flashing forward in a lightning-fast sweep. He attacked like a wild predator, the impact in real life was immense.

Bang! A crisp sound rang out—his sweeping kick, easily dodged by Gong Shaolin, struck a decorative stone pillar nearby. The pillar, as thick as a bowl, instantly shattered. Everyone's eyes widened. The stone here wasn’t particularly hard, mostly soft Linan stone, but still—it was stone, and thick at that. To be kicked to pieces so easily? If that kick landed on a person, what would be the result?

Li Chao, sweating, glanced at Guo Lang, “Damn, good thing you held me back. If it’d been me, I’d have broken a few ribs!”

Yet four people present were faintly unimpressed. This was deliberate—he’d positioned himself intentionally, luring Guozi to attack in that way. The purpose was clear: to show his opponent wasn’t just a minor character, so when he won cleanly, the victory would appear all the more impressive. The plan was deep, if a bit theatrical.

Sure enough, when Guozi launched himself into the air for a full-force elbow strike, Gong Shaolin didn’t dodge. He stood firm, raising his left hand as if to block with the back of his hand. Guo Lang’s eyelid twitched—it was the kind of pose that anime villains strike to look cool when facing big attacks. In Muay Thai, few dare to take an elbow strike head-on; the force is ferocious, and even heavyweight boxers facing much smaller Muay Thai fighters often avoid elbows. But Gong Shaolin’s pose—Guo Lang could only give him full marks.

Everyone held their breath...

Bang! Contrary to the expected bone-crunching sound, Gong Shaolin absorbed the fierce elbow strike without so much as a tremor. The pose from anime, translated into reality, had even greater impact. The visual effect was stunning. Xie Xiaoqin’s eyes sparkled like stars. Even Chen Kaimin’s group, usually jealous, was left speechless. When the aura reaches a certain level, all they could do was look up in awe. Faced with this style, so far beyond mere showboating, what could they possibly say?

Guozi himself was incredulous. He’d used all his strength, yet his opponent hadn’t moved an inch, expression still serene, as if to say his strength was negligible.

“Damn you!” Guozi abandoned grappling, shifting to attack the vulnerable area around Gong Shaolin’s eyes with his left hand, while his left foot, unseen, was poised for a low blow. In underground matches, he cared nothing for rules—such dirty tricks were his specialty.

Gong Shaolin smiled, flicked his right hand to disengage Guozi’s grip, then blocked the left-hand attack. His own left hand, as if anticipating, pressed down on Guozi’s left leg, foiling the low blow.

The counter was beautifully executed. Guo Lang and the others watched with boredom—the difference in attributes was so vast, there was no way to gain an advantage by technique alone. With their level of observation and nerve response, they could predict moves from muscle shifts, and even if slow, their speed allowed them to react and choose the most stylish way to block or counter. They could play with their opponent however they wished.

Bang! After dismantling Guozi’s attack, Gong Shaolin stepped forward, his left shoulder colliding forcefully. Guozi was sent flying, in true martial arts film style, the move so precise it matched movie choreography. Whether practical or not, the visual was impressive—Xie Xiaoqin’s lovestruck expression proved it.

Guozi crashed several meters away into the largest stone pillar, sticking to it like a mural before sliding down. The crowd’s pupils contracted in shock.

The fat man was first surprised, then puzzled. Though he’d watched matches for years and wasn’t a professional, he had an eye for it. The kid’s flashy moves had produced such results—it seemed almost unreal. Yet he managed a smile, “A blow that hangs a person like a painting—excellent skills!”

Guo Lang’s lips twitched—a gap this wide in attributes, any move would look impressive!

“Shaolin brother is amazing!” Xie Xiaoqin, starry-eyed, hurried over to hand Gong Shaolin his suit. Gong Shaolin took it, gently tapped her nose, and smiled, “Did I need you to say so?”

Around them, those subjected to this wave of public affection were left with grim faces, not a trace of celebration at their side’s victory.

The fat man nodded. Though he didn’t quite understand, it was clear Gong Shaolin wasn’t just a showman; he had real ability. And as an upper-class gentleman, giving face and a way out, he wouldn’t press too hard. But he still had to win the match—his own dignity was at stake.

He turned to his real trump card behind him and said, “Little Black, you’re up next!”

“Alright.” Of the two men in black tank tops, the slightly shorter one stepped forward. Unlike Guozi’s sharp presence, this man exuded solidity. Yet, inexplicably, he generated even more pressure.

Gong Shaolin, holding Xie Xiaoqin’s hand, drifted past, casting a glance behind him. The meaning was instantly clear to everyone: I’ve finished showing off, now it’s your turn.

Damn! The crowd froze—this was awkward. See? He wasn’t denying anyone their chance to shine. If you’re good, show it. But... as they eyed Little Black’s massive muscles, everyone swallowed nervously. The air was so tense, you could hear a pin drop.

Bang! Li Chao stood up, and the crowd’s eyes lit up. He was the son of General Li, rumored to have served in special forces—maybe he could win some honor for their side.

But Guo Lang promptly pulled him back, shaking his head, “Didn’t you see just now? You think anyone can go up and succeed at showing off?”

Li Chao’s face turned blue, trying to bluff, “I might not have lost if I’d gone up...”

“Really?” Guo Lang glanced at him.

“Uh...” Under Guo Lang’s obvious skepticism, Li Chao grew angry, “Are you doubting my words?”

“Yep!” Guo Lang and Guo Xiaoting beside him nodded vigorously, giving him no face at all.

“You guys...” Li Chao looked around at Chen Kaimin’s group, who awaited him expectantly, and muttered fiercely, “If you’re brothers, look at them!”

Guo Lang rolled his eyes, “They’re just spectators. If you got beaten to death, it wouldn’t affect them. I’m your brother, that’s why I stopped you!”

“This one might not be as strong as the last guy!”

Guo Lang snorted, “This one could take down ten of the previous guy single-handed, believe it or not!”

“Nonsense...” Li Chao turned away, glancing at Gong Shaolin’s side. Seeing Xie Xiaoqin clinging to him, not even looking his way, he felt a surge of frustration, his tone turning desolate, “But... someone has to step up!”

Guo Lang, seeing his brother’s dejected expression, sighed inwardly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want him to shine, but his luck today was truly awful—this showboating was not for him, and there was nothing Guo Lang could do to help.

He turned to Xie Lin, “Second Brother Xie, what do you say?”

Everyone’s eyes brightened, looking to Xie Lin. Though he looked frail, there was an inexplicable sense of expectation. Since childhood, he’d had an air of being hard to provoke. No one had seen him fight, but what if he was secretly a master?

“I...,” Xie Lin took a sip of plain water, his face tranquil, “I’m not suited to fighting.”

Everyone: ...

They were left speechless, yet couldn’t find fault. Xie Lin’s refusal was so natural, so fitting, that no one felt even a hint of contempt.

Chen Kaimin rubbed his forehead, thinking, “Damn, is that an option? Should I try that too?” But it would probably sound sleazy coming from him.

The crowd was left in silent confusion.

“Well, have you decided who’s going?” The fat man called from afar, sounding impatient.

“Ah...” Guo Lang sighed, standing up under everyone’s surprised gaze, even Xie Xiaoqin looked astonished—did he have such courage? Li Chao tried to stop him, but Guo Lang was already out of reach.

Guo Lang strolled to the front, under the breathless attention of all, and stopped before Little Black. He suddenly turned and asked, “Could we skip the fighting and just concede?”

Everyone: ...

The fat man’s eyelid twitched, staring coldly, “What do you think?”

“Guess not!” Guo Lang shrugged, “Then I’ll go.”

The crowd’s hopeful expressions vanished after Guo Lang’s opening words—there was no expectation left. But Gong Shaolin smiled slightly; he’d always wanted to test Guo Lang’s true strength, and now was the perfect opportunity. Xie Lin was also interested—he too was curious about Guo Lang’s level.

Little Black, Guo Lang’s opponent, gave him a cold look. Unlike the others, his gaze was serious—he thought to himself, “A strong opponent!” Because, when Guo Lang walked up to him, he hadn’t heard a single footstep. This man had some real skill!