Did He Go Easy

"What the hell are you looking at? Damn it... Brothers, let's teach them a lesson!"

As soon as the words were spoken, the underlings charged forward with a roar.

Old Deng, who was closest to them, became the first target of their retaliation.

Old Deng was highly skilled in combat, and under normal circumstances, six or seven burly men would struggle to get close to him. However, this time, there were simply too many people charging at him—more than twenty.

Although these men were all heavily intoxicated, their sheer numbers made it impossible for Old Deng to hold his ground. In no time, he was at a disadvantage, taking several punches, one of which landed squarely on his eye, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. The drunk thugs seized the opportunity to rain down more blows on him.

The officers were initially caught off guard; the situation had escalated too quickly.

None of them had expected the other side to attack without warning.

By the time they reacted, poor Old Deng had already taken several punches and was being pummeled mercilessly. He could only shield his head with his arms, unable to fight back.

Once the officers regained their composure, they immediately rushed in to pull the drunk thugs away.

At the same time, they shouted, "Stop! We're officers! Get down on the ground with your hands on your head!"

"You're officers? I’m freaking Ultraman! Stop pretending, you posers! Brothers, let’s beat them up!"

The warning fell on deaf ears, and the officers had no choice but to join the fray, hoping to subdue the thugs by force.

However, just then, seven or eight more men rushed out of the restaurant. They were part of the same group as the thugs.

Seeing their comrades in a fight, they jumped in without hesitation.

These men were street toughs, experts in brawls.

Although the officers had some training in combat techniques, their skills were more suited for one-on-one confrontations and were nearly useless in a chaotic group fight.

From the start, the officers had only intended to subdue the thugs, not to inflict serious harm.

But the drunk thugs were different—they struck without restraint, showing no intention of holding back.

By the time the officers realized they couldn’t afford to hold back either, most of them were already injured and unable to fight at full strength. They were quickly losing ground.

Chen Ke’s injured arm hadn’t fully healed, and his combat effectiveness was significantly reduced. Saving the day was out of the question; his only goal now was to avoid further injury.

As for Old Deng, he had been the first to be surrounded. His vision was still blurry from the punch to his eye.

The officers were utterly frustrated.

To think they were being beaten up by a bunch of thugs in their own jurisdiction! If word got out, they’d be the laughingstock of the town.

What a disaster!

Just as the officers were resigned to swallowing their pride and accepting defeat, a figure emerged from the crowd.

This figure wasn’t particularly bulky—in fact, he was somewhat slender—but his combat skills were exceptional.

Wherever he went, cries of pain followed.

One by one, the thugs were knocked to the ground.

The grappling techniques he used were highly effective, and combined with his enhanced speed, strength, and stamina, Xu Mo was like a god of war.

In no time, he had taken down half of the thugs.

The officers, who had been on the verge of losing, suddenly turned the tide and began counterattacking the remaining thugs.

Three minutes later, all the thugs were subdued.

But the leader of the group was still defiant.

Even though he was lying on the ground clutching his stomach, his mouth was still running.

He even pulled out his phone, ready to call for backup, flipping through his contacts while hurling threats: "You’ve messed with the wrong people! You’re in big trouble now! Don’t you dare leave! Just wait till I call my boys! Damn it..."

It wasn’t until an officer pulled out a pair of handcuffs that the thug fell silent.

He recognized the shiny silver object: handcuffs.

It was standard equipment for officers.

He suddenly remembered that at the start of the fight, someone had shouted, "We’re officers!" But at the time, he had been too worked up to pay attention.

Now, after taking a beating, he sobered up—both from the alcohol and the reality of the situation.

He realized it wasn’t the officers who were in trouble—it was him. He had just assaulted officers!

He struggled to get up and make a run for it.

But before he could even rise, a pair of handcuffs snapped onto his wrists: "Stay put!"

"Alright, alright!"

...

"Old Deng, how are you? Are you okay?"

"Nothing serious," Old Deng replied, wincing as he shook his head.

He had managed to protect his head with his hands, so his injuries were only superficial and would heal in a couple of days.

For him, the injuries were secondary. What occupied his mind now was the image of Xu Mo effortlessly weaving through the crowd, taking down one thug after another.

He recognized the techniques Xu Mo had used—it was clearly grappling!

He was stunned.

He couldn’t help but think back to their earlier sparring session in the private room. Back then, Xu Mo must have been holding back!

With the skills Xu Mo had just displayed, he could have taken down three Old Dengs without breaking a sweat!

"Old Deng, what’s wrong? What are you looking at?" one of the officers asked, following Old Deng’s gaze.

He noticed Old Deng was staring at Xu Mo and couldn’t help but recall the sparring match between Xu Mo and Old Deng in the private room, as well as Xu Mo’s performance in subduing the thugs just now... It dawned on him that Xu Mo’s skills far surpassed Old Deng’s.

Xu Mo had been going easy on Old Deng during their spar.

"What are you two staring at? You look like you’ve seen a ghost," a few more officers chimed in.

Following their gazes, they all turned to look at Xu Mo.

...