Chapter 76: In the Realm of Martial Arts, Speed Is Invincible

The restaurant owner shouted as he pointed at Zhang Xiaofan, his body hastily darting toward the door—his savior had finally arrived!

“Damn, that’s impressive.” Zhang Xiaofan was stunned, marveling at the owner’s quick reaction.

He chuckled, watching the owner sprint for the exit. Then, Zhang Xiaofan casually picked up a chopstick from the table and, with a swift motion, flung it like a gust of wind.

“Ah!” The restaurant owner cried out in pain, abruptly halting as both hands reached for his backside—a chopstick had pierced him precisely, the pain bringing tears to his eyes.

Clutching the chopstick, he yanked it free, unable to describe the agony.

“Baka!” the owner roared, but he still scrambled to the doorway.

“I am Kimura Frog. Where are Koteng and Ichikawa?” At the entrance stood a man, around one meter seventy tall, well-built, with a stern, broad face and eyes sharp as blades, glinting with a fierce light.

The restaurant owner now doubted whether his backside still belonged to him, cursing Zhang Xiaofan in his heart. Upon hearing the question, he immediately pointed to a corner of the restaurant.

“Baka!” Kimura Frog bellowed in rage. An imperial samurai, humiliated by having a woman’s item stuffed in his mouth—a disgrace of the highest order!

Apparently, he instantly assumed it was a sanitary pad used by women during their period.

“Sick men of East Asia, how dare you insult my empire’s samurai!” Kimura Frog roared, his eyes cold and murderous as he glared at Zhang Xiaofan. He wanted nothing more than to cut him down.

“Little Jap, open your dog eyes and see—who’s lying on the ground wailing now?” Zhang Xiaofan stared coldly at him. “Pig from the island nation.”

“Baka!” Kimura Frog was furious. This man had called him a pig, and nothing enraged them more than being called islanders by the Chinese.

With a roar, he charged at Zhang Xiaofan, leaping into the air with a flying kick that cut through the air with a whistle.

This man possessed the early stage strength of the Transcendent Realm!

Zhang Xiaofan quickly assessed his opponent’s power.

He tilted his body, raising his leg high to meet the attack head-on.

Bang! Their feet collided. Zhang Xiaofan stood firm and unmoved, while Kimura Frog was sent backward in midair, shock appearing on his face in an instant of anger.

He landed in a panic, staggering, then stared at Zhang Xiaofan, his expression dark and wary.

“Haven’t eaten, little Jap? Weren’t you saying I’m sickly? Come on, hit me.” Zhang Xiaofan beckoned provocatively with his finger.

Kimura Frog was burning with rage, but he recognized Zhang Xiaofan’s terrifying strength. As Ichikawa’s senior, he was much stronger, yet only when facing his own master had he felt such pressure.

“Hand me the sword!”

Kimura Frog spoke in a low voice. His junior immediately handed over a long wooden box, curved in shape.

Opening the box revealed two long swords—black lacquered hilts, slightly curved blades gleaming with silver.

They were genuine samurai swords from the island nation.

Samurai swords, forged from refined steel, hammered countless times, resilient and razor-sharp.

This was no ordinary blade, Zhang Xiaofan saw at a glance.

The most famous early wielder of the samurai sword was Musashi Miyamoto, revered as the Sword Saint of the island nation and its top master. He defeated another kendo master, Sasaki Kojiro, with a bamboo sword.

A fine sword, but it depends who wields it.

Kimura Frog gripped the blade reverently, drawing it out with care.

“Chinese, even if I don’t kill you today, I’ll cripple you!” Kimura Frog declared, confidence surging as he held the sword.

“Is that so? Such a fine blade is wasted in your hands,” Zhang Xiaofan replied coldly. He walked to the corner, picked up a mop, and broke off the head with a forceful stomp.

He looked at Kimura Frog and said calmly, “I wouldn’t ordinarily go this far with you, but I’ll show you Chinese swordsmanship—so you’ll know that in terms of swordplay, we are your ancestors.”

“If you can defeat me with a wooden stick, I, Kimura Frog, swear to commit seppuku right here!” One had to admit, Kimura Frog possessed a deep sense of samurai spirit.

This is what made the island nation so formidable—the terrifying power of such belief.

Zhang Xiaofan smiled. “Then prepare to kill yourself.”

Kimura Frog’s eyes locked onto him, his aura shifting, and Zhang Xiaofan felt this must be the famed Hokushin Itto-ryu style.

Kimura Frog’s movements confirmed it.

Hokushin Itto-ryu, its essence lies in the decisive single cut.

When sparring, victory or defeat is determined in one strike; all their skills are concentrated in that blade.

As Kimura Frog swung, his aura changed—mind, spirit, and momentum fused to some extent. Clearly, Kimura Frog had achieved a certain mastery of Hokushin Itto-ryu.

But to Zhang Xiaofan, it was far from enough.

He gripped the wooden stick, causing it to tremble. Upon close examination, one could see it vibrating at a high frequency.

Among all martial arts, speed is invincible!

Zhang Xiaofan’s arm spun rapidly, the stick whirled, and he thrust it forward as the samurai sword hovered midair.

His stick struck Kimura Frog’s chin, and Kimura Frog’s head snapped back uncontrollably. The sound of teeth smashing together was audible, and the force shredded half his jaw.

With one blow, Zhang Xiaofan swiftly withdrew the stick and then struck Kimura Frog’s sword-wielding wrist. The immense force sent the samurai sword tumbling to the ground.

Zhang Xiaofan hadn’t gone for the kill; otherwise, his first strike would have taken Kimura Frog’s life.

Even so, Kimura Frog was gravely injured. Clutching his jaw with one hand, his eyes showed terror—he had lost, utterly and completely!

“So, who’s the sick man now?” Zhang Xiaofan asked coldly.

“Little Jap! Still so arrogant?”

“Little Jap! Go home!”

...

At some point, a crowd had gathered at the restaurant entrance, indignant but elated.

Hokushin Itto-ryu? In the face of Chinese martial arts, it was nothing.

Kimura Frog’s expression was dark and gloomy. He had lost, his samurai faith shattered, his dignity ruined—a disgrace to the imperial samurai.

He flipped the fallen samurai sword with one foot, then stabbed it toward his own abdomen.

Zhang Xiaofan was taken aback—this man truly feared nothing. Yet, could he die so easily? Besides, if Kimura Frog died, Zhang Xiaofan would be in deep trouble.

Killing an island nation samurai in China wasn’t like eliminating some dark syndicate—it would stir diplomatic issues.

So, in that instant, Zhang Xiaofan struck with his stick, hitting Kimura Frog’s other wrist, causing the sword to fall again.

“Why won’t you let me die?” Kimura Frog asked, staring at Zhang Xiaofan.

“Why? If you died, things would be peaceful, but I’d be in a lot of trouble, understand?” Zhang Xiaofan replied. “Just remember, China is not yours to insult.”

“The humiliation you gave me, the Hokushin Dojo will reclaim,” Kimura Frog said in a low voice. Clearly, he valued samurai dignity above all else—even more than life.

“Is that so? Then come as you please.” Zhang Xiaofan sneered.

Lin Siyu gazed at Zhang Xiaofan in awe, feeling he was more handsome and masculine than ever. At this moment, he truly was captivating.

“Let’s go,” Zhang Xiaofan gently took Lin Siyu’s arm.

At the door, the island nation samurai still blocked their path, glaring menacingly at Zhang Xiaofan.

“What, do you want to taste defeat as well?” Zhang Xiaofan said coldly.

“Let them pass,” Kimura Frog ordered, and the samurai reluctantly moved aside.

“Not to look down on you, but even together, you’re just a bunch of losers,” Zhang Xiaofan mocked.

The samurai grew even angrier, but none dared make a move.

“Young man, you’re amazing! You’ve made us proud!”

“Yes, let those little Japs be arrogant again!”

“You should have let him die just now!”

...

As they walked out, a crowd surrounded them. Zhang Xiaofan just smiled, then quickly led Lin Siyu away.

“You, wherever you go, there’s always trouble,” Lin Siyu whispered as she looked at Zhang Xiaofan.

“That’s because of you—who told you to be so beautiful? If you hadn’t attracted that bastard, none of this would’ve happened,” Zhang Xiaofan replied innocently.

“I think you just wanted to show off,” Lin Siyu retorted with a roll of her eyes.

“Hehe, honestly, I just can’t stand those little Japs,” Zhang Xiaofan laughed. “Sister Lin, is there anywhere else you want to go?”

“Come with me to buy cosmetics,” Lin Siyu thought for a moment.

“You’re so beautiful already, what do you need cosmetics for? Natural is best,” Zhang Xiaofan said.

“You’re such a smooth talker! Women need maintenance, otherwise they age quickly,” Lin Siyu scolded playfully, though she was clearly pleased.

“All right, I’ll go with you,” Zhang Xiaofan shrugged helplessly. Accompanying a woman shopping was never an easy task.

After visiting several stores, Lin Siyu bought tens of thousands’ worth of luxury cosmetics—trying samples and everything else. By the time she was done, it was already past four in the afternoon.

Zhang Xiaofan had no idea where the time went.

Returning to Mountain and Water Residence, they reached the villa gates close to six o’clock. There was no helping it—traffic jams. When Zhang Xiaofan parked, he said to Lin Siyu, “I’m going out to a gathering tonight. Eat by yourself, don’t wait for me.”

Lin Siyu was a bit unhappy: “You’ve been sneaky these days. Are you seeing some girl?”

Zhang Xiaofan froze. Did Lin Siyu know about him and Chen Yuanyuan? That wasn’t possible, was it?

“Hehe, Sister Lin, are you jealous?” Zhang Xiaofan teased.

“Go on, get out of here. I don’t want to waste words with you,” Lin Siyu said irritably, heading inside.

Zhang Xiaofan was speechless. Women truly are incomprehensible creatures.