Chapter Thirteen: The True Warrior

Zhang Tianhu put away his phone and glared at me fiercely, snarling, “You son of a bitch, how dare you hit me? I want to see how you’re going to die today! Not only will I dig up your parents’ graves, I’ll also dig up your grandfather’s grave and tear down your family’s lousy house! I’ll make your family disappear from this village!”

“Chu Bufan, run!” Liu Tiedong shouted from the crowd, unwilling to come closer.

“Run, run!” The other villagers immediately chimed in with urgency.

Zhang Tianhu’s words ignited a raging fury within me. I initially wanted to cripple him with a single kick, but then I thought it better to let him stay conscious and witness the spectacle about to unfold.

I strode over, grabbed his collar, hoisted his fat body off the ground, and slapped him across the face more than a dozen times. I shouted angrily, “Who the hell do you think you are? Where’s your upbringing? How dare you talk about digging up graves!”

Instantly, his face turned swollen and pig-like.

The nearby villagers were terrified and hurried over to pull me away, urging me to run.

I released him, and Zhang Tianhu fell to the ground, unable to speak, only groaning in pain. His small, fearful eyes stared at me with a mix of hatred and resentment.

I waved them off and turned to the villagers with a smile. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m not going anywhere. I want to see what tricks they have up their sleeves.”

An elderly man anxiously said, “Didn’t you hear him say he’s calling reinforcements? They must be some lowlifes from outside society. You can’t beat them, you should run!”

“No need to worry. I know what I’m doing,” I said with a faint smile, then turned to the excavator operator. “Driver, can you start now?”

“Oh, right away!” The operator, clearly frightened, started the machine and began filling the grave, using the bucket to level the soil.

The villagers continued to murmur among themselves.

“Should we call the police?”

“No, if we call the police, they’ll arrest Bufan first since he injured someone.”

“Better to be arrested than beaten to death.”

“Outsiders coming here to beat people? That’s too arrogant. Maybe we should gather the villagers and fight back.”

“But now there are only old men and women left in the village. How can we fight them?”

I felt a warmth inside and loudly addressed the elders, “Don’t worry about me, and don’t call the police. I can handle this myself.”

But these old villagers were set in their ways, impossible to reason with, so I didn’t bother explaining further.

Once the operator finished, he hastily drove the excavator away, not daring to linger.

I stood before my parents’ graves, noticing the dozens of cigarette butts left from my last visit.

With a sigh, I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

Regarding my father, Chu Qingshan, I have long carried an unbearable guilt.

In truth, since returning from the outside world, my heart has two soft spots filled with regret: Ling Xuan and my three family members, especially my father.

He raised me for eighteen years without ever receiving anything in return. Of course, I know he never sought anything back. But even worse, when I left back then, I ended up ruining him and damaging the entire family.

What’s unforgivable is that after I made a name for myself in the underground bare-knuckle scene, I had a chance to come back. But my greatest goal was to become king, and I knew the path was fraught with danger—I could fall at any moment.

Years have passed. To avoid giving them hope only to lose it again, I endured silently, never contacting them.

Finally, after defending my championship, I thought I could return home in glory, only to realize I had missed too much.

It’s all my fault.

I am a cowardly, selfish son unworthy of my family.

“Dad, your son is unworthy.”

Whenever I think of this, those useless words echo endlessly in my mind.

I sighed deeply, feeling a sting in my nose and my vision blur slightly. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and focused on He Hu.

I will find him and use my iron fists and legs to utterly destroy him.

Our Chu family will not disappear from this village. I will marry the best wife, have many children, and strengthen our lineage so it will no longer be so fragile and extinct like before.

As my thoughts settled, I heard the villagers still whispering nearby but much quieter.

I turned and saw them standing together watching me.

“Bufan wasn’t this stubborn as a child. He’s changed a lot,” someone said.

“Actually, the whole family is like this. Didn’t Qingshan search for him for months back then? Father and son share the same temper,” another chimed in.

“True, but the real question is what to do next.”

“What can we do? We’re powerless.”

I glanced over and saw Zhang Tianhu and Zhang Dalong being helped into an Audi by Zhang Dalong’s girlfriend. The car doors were wide open.

Not knowing how much time had passed, I plopped down by the grave and waited for Zhang Tianhu’s reinforcements.

After about ten minutes, the sound of a worn-out engine echoed.

The villagers stirred, craning their necks.

I stood and turned, seeing three Dongfeng small trucks roar in, each bed filled with fifteen or sixteen young thugs brandishing weapons—baseball bats, iron rods, machetes.

As soon as they reached the grassy foothills, the thugs leapt out before the trucks even stopped, brimming with vicious energy. The clanging of metal rang out incessantly.

The villagers screamed in fear and stepped back several meters.

Zhang Tianhu and Zhang Dalong seemed to regain some strength and struggled out of the car, leaning against it with fierce, triumphant expressions.

I pulled out a cigarette, lit it slowly, inhaled deeply, and exhaled calmly.

“Chu Bufan, run!” Liu Tiedong whispered hoarsely.

“Brother Hu, how did it come to this? Who did this?” Three young men jumped out of the passenger seats, their expressions fierce.

“Help me up!” Zhang Tianhu seemed to be showing off rather than answering.

The three thug leaders immediately supported Zhang Tianhu and Zhang Dalong.

“Come, over here,” Zhang Tianhu ordered as they approached me.

Leading the way were the five of them, with Zhang Dalong’s girlfriend beside them, followed by forty or fifty armed thugs in a massive, intimidating group.

The villagers were completely terrified and retreated another ten meters, watching from a distance.

I looked at them expressionlessly, smoking calmly.

“Is this the idiot?” Even a fool could see that I was their target.

The group quickly surrounded me. The thugs stood staggered, heads held high, glaring at me with arrogance and cruelty, fingers tapping their weapons menacingly.

Zhang Tianhu revealed a cruel smile, his eyes filled with malice. “You uncultured bastard, even if you kneel and beg today, it won’t help! This village will never have a place for your family again!”

I inhaled smoke and slowly blew it in Zhang Tianhu’s face, my expression indifferent. “So, how do you plan to deal with me?”

Zhang Tianhu erupted in rage.

Before he could speak, one of the thugs snapped.

“Fuck you!” One of the three leaders shouted furiously and kicked toward my abdomen.

I remained expressionless and struck down with a punch.

Crack!

The thug’s shin bone shattered. He screamed earth-shatteringly and rolled on the ground.

“Game over, game over,” the distant villagers screamed in fear.

Swish!

All the thugs’ faces changed instantly. They raised their weapons, ready to attack.

“Wait!” Another leader raised his right hand, glaring at me. “Who the hell are you?”

Zhang Tianhu cursed, “He’s a useless country bumpkin from our village, a bastard with no backing. Don’t bother asking, break his hands and legs!”

So that was their plan. I decided to return the favor.

A cruel smile curled on my lips. I threw my cigarette at his face and unleashed a lightning-fast side kick, striking twice in rapid succession—once on his left leg, once on his left hand.

Crack. Crack.

His limbs broke almost simultaneously.

My right foot landed, and my left foot kicked twice more in lightning speed.

Crack. Crack.

His right hand and right leg broke too.

In less than a second, all four of his limbs were shattered completely.

His blood-curdling screams echoed through the mountains. His body went limp immediately, and the nearby leaders dared not support him.

“Attack! Hit him to death!”

The other two leaders turned furious, waving their hands and rushing forward.

I swept my right leg in a high arc like a swinging hammer. The sound of bones breaking rang out as both leaders were sent flying.

Forty or fifty thugs with weapons charged from both sides, like a pack of hungry wolves, full of murderous intent.

An iron rod, about as thick as two fingers, smashed down in front of me with a fierce whoosh. I swept my leg and kicked it away with a sharp crack. The rod bent sharply.

I followed with an axe kick. The thug’s shoulder blade shattered instantly, and his body collapsed.

The thugs closed in completely.

Countless baseball bats, iron rods, and machetes swung around me.

But to me, they posed no threat at all.

Although we’re called bare-knuckle fighters, underground fighters don’t adhere to traditional boxing. We prefer to call ourselves warriors, trained in combat techniques.

Official boxing has many rules and protective gear, so training is more conservative.

But underground bare-knuckle fights have no restrictions or protection—like street brawls.

We don’t win by points or rules; every fight is a life-or-death battle, with no holds barred.

A champion forged in such an environment is the fiercest warrior, the strongest fighter, the deadliest hand-to-hand killing machine in the world—far beyond any special forces or agents.

Of course, the focus is different. Special forces excel at stealth kills with knives, which are deadly. But in direct combat, no one matches an underground bare-knuckle king.

We are killers hidden beneath the world’s surface, the true rulers of the underworld!

Our hallmark is unstoppable offense and indestructible resilience. Even top black market fighters can’t withstand a single powerful blow from us.

They may be many, but any one of them who takes a hit from me immediately falls.

In an instant, more than twenty of them lay sprawled around me. Bent rods, broken bats, and shattered machetes littered the ground, while agonized screams rose and fell.

The remaining twenty or so thugs were pale-faced with fright, trembling and retreating five or six meters, too scared to approach.

I cast them a cold glance. They immediately dropped their weapons and stepped back.

The fight was over.