Chapter 10: Crushing With a Single Finger

This punch sliced through the air with a fierce sound, its force overwhelming and domineering. Only a few months ago, Chu Feng had witnessed with his own eyes Xiong Meng killing a wild bison, weighing over a thousand pounds, with a single blow. Facing such a brutal and forceful punch, Chu Feng did not dodge; instead, he met it head-on with a punch of his own.

It was a contest of needle against awn, a direct clash of strength and will—to see whose power was greater, whose fist was harder. In truth, fights between martial artists at the first and second layers of the Body Tempering stage could only be decided by raw power, fist against fist, strength against strength: the stronger would win, the weaker would lose. There were no sophisticated martial skills or deadly techniques at this level.

Only upon reaching the third layer of Body Tempering—when one learned outer martial arts, acquired external techniques, and mastered the use of weapons—did battles involve the dismantling of moves, shifts in footwork, and a true display of martial prowess.

Boom!

At the instant their fists collided, a tremendous explosion echoed, the ground shuddered, and even the trees quivered as if in terror. This was the collision of forces weighing several thousand pounds, the impact so intense that it seemed to shake the very earth in that small area.

The two fists pressed tightly against each other, locked in a stalemate, as if their strengths were perfectly matched. Xiong Meng did not dare to be careless; he was using his full power. But Chu Feng was holding something back.

In this deadlock, the serpent’s power within Chu Feng ignited. The muscles of his shoulders rippled, and a surging, wave-like strength flooded into his fist.

“Aaaah!” Xiong Meng screamed in agony as Chu Feng’s immense power crushed him. His body was hurled a dozen yards through the air before crashing heavily to the ground.

Blood spurted from his mouth as his internal organs twisted violently.

Chu Feng strode over and shouted, “My brother, Little Dao—tell me, is he alive or dead?”

“He’s… alive… still alive!” Xiong Meng stammered in terror.

Looking at Chu Feng now, the man who had once toiled as a laborer at his family’s estate, Xiong Meng felt as if an invincible giant now stood before him, gazing down with contempt. All of Xiong Meng’s former arrogance was utterly extinguished.

Before Chu Feng’s wild, serpentine strength, Xiong Meng—the warlike wolfman—lost all confidence. He could barely lift his head in Chu Feng’s presence.

“Xiong Meng, listen well! You are nothing but my prey. I’m itching to crush you right now! But I’ll spare your wretched life to trade for my brother, Little Dao.”

Chu Feng hoisted Xiong Meng and said coldly, “But, just as you always like to say, I’ll ruin you piece by piece, so you can taste my methods!”

“No! Don’t! Chu Feng, as long as you don’t hurt me, we can talk about anything! Whatever you want, we can discuss it!”

Xiong Meng’s face turned ashen with fear. In just over ten days, Chu Feng had transformed from a downtrodden laborer into someone who now held his fate in his hands, as if he were a grim reaper passing judgment.

Just then, as Chu Feng was about to act, the cry of the fox-headed eagle rang out once more from the sky. Simultaneously, a powerful voice called out from afar, “Chu Feng, stop! If you dare harm my fourth brother, I, Xiong Gang, will take your life in exchange!”

“Oh?” Chu Feng sneered, “You arrived just in time—saves me the trouble of hunting you down! No one can stop me from hurting the Xiong family! Right before your eyes, I’ll destroy your fourth brother’s arm!”

As soon as he finished, Chu Feng’s grip tightened.

Crack!

“AAAH!” Xiong Meng let out a bloodcurdling scream. His right arm was crushed to pulp by Chu Feng’s bare hands, the pain so excruciating that he howled and thrashed like a madman. Such wild struggles would have taken five bulls to restrain, but in Chu Feng’s grasp, Xiong Meng was powerless, like a helpless child.

“Chu Feng! You—!”

From more than a dozen yards away, Xiong Gang shouted, his eyes burning with rage.

Xiong Gang, the third son of Xiong Zhan, was seventeen years old, a year older than Chu Feng. A year prior, he had already achieved the third layer of Body Tempering, trained in outer martial arts, and mastered external techniques. In his hands gleamed a pair of golden, club-headed maces—his signature weapons.

Chu Feng judged that Xiong Gang’s strength was in the mid-range of the third layer, stronger than those newly advanced but not yet at the threshold of the fourth layer.

Three others followed Xiong Gang. Two were burly, thickset men in standard Tiger Gate attire—obviously his henchmen, both at the second layer of Body Tempering. The last was a young man, covered in dust, hair disheveled, his body marked with blood and wounds, standing feebly as though barely able to stand after a savage beating.

“Hm? That boy looks familiar… Isn’t that—Little Dao?!”

Chu Feng’s heart clenched.

The youth, held captive by a Tiger Gate bandit, was none other than Chu Feng’s beloved brother, Little Dao.

Chu Feng quickly stepped forward and shouted, “Little Dao! Look at me—do you know who I am?”

“Is that… Brother Feng? Run… run!” Little Dao’s mind was addled, his body swaying from the torment he’d endured, yet his first words upon recognizing Chu Feng were to urge him to flee.

Pain twisted Chu Feng’s heart. Pointing at the bandit two yards away, he barked, “I’ll count to three—let my brother go!”

The bandit hesitated, then sneered, “You’ll count to three? Count to thirty thousand, it won’t change a thing—”

Boom!

Suddenly, a strange, explosive sound erupted right on the bandit’s face.

In the next instant, the bandit’s head burst open, a hole the size of a fist blooming in his forehead. Blood and brains sprayed forth like a crimson fountain, arcing more than a yard across the ground.

The bandit, who had so arrogantly dismissed Chu Feng, died on the spot without even uttering a cry.

Taking advantage of Xiong Gang’s and the other bandit’s shock, Chu Feng dashed to Little Dao, scooped him up, and returned to where Xiong Meng lay.

“Little Dao, are you alright? Little Dao!” Chu Feng checked his brother’s body, finding him emaciated and frail, nothing but skin and bones.

“Brother Feng, I… I…” Safe in Chu Feng’s arms, Little Dao’s spirit finally relaxed after so many days of torment, and with that release, he fainted dead away.

Chu Feng did not call out again. He gently laid Little Dao on the ground—he would deal with the enemies first, then tend to his brother.

Having just witnessed Chu Feng’s inexplicable method of blowing open bandit A Jian’s head, and seeing Little Dao rescued in the blink of an eye, Xiong Gang’s heart sank. He had hoped to exchange Little Dao for his brother Xiong Meng, but now that chance was lost.

“Third Brother, save me! Save me!” Xiong Meng cried out in agony, clutching at his shattered arm.

“No one can save you!” Chu Feng cut him off coldly, seized him like a fowl, and tucked him under his left arm, his grip separating Xiong Meng’s neck from his torso.

In the next moment, Chu Feng’s right index finger, sharp as a spear, pressed against Xiong Meng’s skull.

“Third Brother! Save me!” Xiong Meng screamed, sensing death closing in.

“Chu Feng! If you harm a hair on my brother’s head, I’ll smash you to pieces!” Xiong Gang bellowed, but he did not dare step forward.

Half of Chu Feng’s strength channeled into his right finger, grinding into Xiong Meng’s skull with a sound like grating teeth. Xiong Meng’s entire head sank in, blood streaming from his every orifice as his corpse was thrown to the ground.

Only then did Xiong Gang see that Xiong Meng’s neck had been utterly crushed by Chu Feng’s finger force, his deformed head jammed into his shoulders, his neck completely vanished.

“Young Master, this…” The bandit A Huai finally realized the kind of terrifying figure Chu Feng was; he knew he was no match. Looking at Xiong Gang, his eyes filled with doubt—could even the third young master handle this monster? Otherwise, why had he only blustered and not dared to act to save his brother?

A Huai instinctively took a step back.

“Chu Feng! Only days ago on the hillside, your trap that killed the mountain leopard was clumsy and crude! Who would have thought that in just a few days your strength would soar so dramatically, that you could actually kill my brother Xiong Meng?” Xiong Gang glared at Chu Feng. “It’s a pity your power is not truly your own—your body is still weak!”

“Don’t try to stall or trick me—prepare to die!” Chu Feng snapped, the aura of the serpent surging from his body.

With a thunderous crack, the muscles from his shoulders to his waist swelled as if a great umbrella had opened, the explosive sound of his body expanding echoing unnaturally. Chu Feng’s figure nearly doubled in size, especially his upper body, his chest and back forming a perfect, exaggerated inverted triangle, like a cobra in fury, exuding a murderous intent to crush all before him.