Thud!
Kang collapsed onto the stage, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.
Red Poison retracted his blood-dripping hand, licking his fingers with an unnaturally long tongue, savoring the metallic tang with a disturbingly pleased expression.
The audience below recoiled in disgust.
Horrified yet simultaneously revolted!
"Who else dares to challenge me?"
Red Poison calmly wiped the blood from his hands with his cloak, smiling as he scanned the crowd.
Silence.
When his sunken, ash-gray eyes locked onto anyone, their hearts would inexplicably shudder.
An indescribable terror gripped them.
Witnessing Kang’s kidney being torn out and crushed before their eyes, these people—unaccustomed to such brutality—were paralyzed with fear. Who would dare step forward now?
An Yi spoke grimly, "That... what’s-his-name... Feng. What’s this guy’s background?"
Ding Renfeng quickly replied, "An assassin from America. Mastered a lethal combat style. Rumors say he’s behind the ambushes and killings of Yunzhou City’s top fighters over the past month."
"Not from Xia Country, no wonder he’s so brazen," An Yi remarked, nodding.
Now he noticed—Red Poison’s hooked nose, deep-set eyes, slightly curled chestnut hair, and pale complexion clearly marked him as a foreigner.
"I’ve long heard that Xia Country is the land of ancient martial arts, teeming with masters! Yet now, not a single one of you has the guts to face me. Such a grand underground boxing arena, and not one real man among you?"
Red Poison continued his taunts, eyes brimming with mockery.
Several fighters in the rest area burned with anger, but the moment their gazes met Red Poison’s icy stare, they quickly lowered their heads.
Kang had been among their strongest. If he couldn’t last a single round, the rest would likely end up with their organs spilled.
The boxing ring crowd remained silent.
Many among them knew this man was Red Poison.
Countless martial artists had fallen to him—what chance did ordinary people have?
Ding Renfeng threw off his jacket, cursing. "Damn bastard! I’ll tear this piece of trash apart!"
Yao Ji immediately wrapped his arms around Ding Renfeng’s waist. "Brother Feng, think twice! Brother Long is already in a wheelchair. You can't afford to get hurt as well!"
"Yao Ji, let go of me!"
"No!"
An Yi waved a hand impatiently. "Stop arguing. Someone’s already going up."
At his words, Ding Renfeng and Yao Ji turned toward the arena.
There stood a pale-faced young man in a white martial arts uniform.
A boy indeed—barely fifteen or sixteen, his youthful face even younger than An Yi’s by three or four years.
Frail and sickly, he looked anything but threatening.
"What the hell? A kid? This is suicide!"
"Mocking him? Why don’t you go up instead?"
"Who the hell would? Getting beaten is one thing, but this psycho rips out kidneys!"
The underground boxing ring erupted into noise.
The crowd buzzed with discussion, none giving the boy a chance.
A few twisted spectators even eagerly anticipated the boy’s brutal beating.
Red Poison's bloody flair suited their dark tastes.
Red Poison glanced at the boy and sneered. "You? What’s your name?"
His eyes were sharp. The boy's steps were unsteady, his complexion weak—no sign of skill. A mere sickly boy.
Even an average kid his age could probably pummel him.
"Fang Jueming!"
The white-clad youth answered coldly, his soft voice laced with killing intent.
"Fang? Hah! I fought another Fang once—Fang Cunxing. Pathetic fool. I snapped his neck like a twig."
Red Poison licked his lips, reminiscing.
Fang Jueming’s voice hardened. "He was my father."
Red Poison’s grin widened. "Ah. So it’s revenge you’re after?"
Fang Jueming didn’t answer. His fists clenched, eyes bloodshot with hatred.
"Tch. Delusional. Come on, then!"
Red Poison’s laughter was grating, devoid of mercy.
He was an assassin. He didn’t spare children.
In the stands, An Yi’s expression turned odd.
With his Eye of Insight, he could see Fang Jueming's Fate Value: 80!
A staggering number. Most people averaged 60, 70 was rare, and those above 80 were few.
Could this kid be... another chosen one?
An Yi stroked his chin, deep in thought.
"Ha!"
Fang Jueming lunged.
His thin frame unleashed shocking force—a thunderous punch.
Red Poison sidestepped, catching it effortlessly, but his brow twitched. "Flash Fist! So you know it too!"
Blocked.
Fang Jueming didn’t falter.
A second punch followed instantly!
Red Poison raised his other arm, deflecting the blow.
The impact surprised him. This kid’s strength might rival his dead father’s!
He knew Flash Fist.
Three stacked strikes—each stronger than the last.
This boy’s fists carried real weight.
Fang Jueming’s third strike came without pause.
Red Poison smirked. Three punches? He’d seen this before. His father had exhausted himself on the third, leaving his neck exposed for the snap.
This time, he dodged instead of blocking.
But in that split second—
Fang Jueming’s fourth fist slammed into Red Poison’s gut!
Boom!
The impact echoed.
Red Poison staggered back several steps before steadying himself.
Unharmed!
Fang Jueming’s face paled.
"Pfft. That’s it?"
Red Poison adjusted his cloak, grinning. "I told you. Xia Country’s ancient martial arts are all flash, no substance! Your father died praising that garbage martial arts. Pathetic!"
"Don’t you dare insult him!"
Fang Jueming’s voice was ice, his body trembling with rage—a cornered beast.
Red Poison cackled. "That waste of a human had no talent, yet wasted his life on martial arts. That Flash Fist? A joke! Killing him was a mercy!"
Fang Jueming’s face flushed crimson, his entire being shaking.
His father, though untalented, had dedicated his life to the martial path. Flash Fist was their family’s legacy—his pride!
When Red Poison had mocked ancient martial arts, his father had challenged him.
Though he died, to Fang Jueming, he remained a hero.
Now, this monster spat on his memory.
Then—
A razor-sharp hand shot forward like a serpent, piercing Fang Jueming’s chest!
Red Poison stood before him, cold as ice.
He slowly withdrew his bloodied fingers.
"Like I said... trash will always be trash."
world slacker. But a genius female disciple just had to get clingy, insisting that he take her as a disciple. Not only that, she was always making advances on him, thoroughly disrupting his peaceful slacker life...
u Chenyuan transmigrated into a female-oriented novel about a real and fake heiress, becoming the CEO elder brother of both. Unfortunately, the entire Lu family—including himself, the CEO—were mere cannon fodder in the story. Determined to save himself, Lu Chenyuan took action. The spoiled, attention-seeking fake heiress? Thrown into the harsh realities of the working class to learn humility. The love-struck real heiress? Pushed toward academic excellence, so lofty goals would blind her to trivial romances. As for the betrayed, vengeful arranged marriage wife… the plot hadn’t even begun yet. There was still time—if he couldn’t handle her, he could at least avoid her. "CEO Lu, are you avoiding me?" Mo Qingli fixed her gaze on Lu Chenyuan. For the first time, the shrewd and calculating Lu Chenyuan felt a flicker of unease.
reezy rom-com) Good news: Jiang Liu is quite the ladies' man. Bad news: He’s lost his memory. Lying in a hospital bed, Jiang Liu listens to a parade of goddesses spouting "absurd claims," feeling like the world is one giant game of Werewolf. "Jiang Liu, I’m your first love." "Jiang Liu, you’re my boyfriend—she’s your ex." "Jiang Liu, we’re close friends who’ve shared a bed, remember?" "Jiang Liu, I want to have your baby." The now-lucid Jiang Liu is convinced this must be some elaborate scam... until someone drops the bombshell: "The day before you lost your memory, you confessed your feelings—and got into a relationship." Jiang Liu is utterly baffled. So... who the hell is his actual girlfriend?! ... Before recovering his memories, Jiang Liu must navigate this minefield of lies and sincerity, fighting to protect himself from these women’s schemes. But things spiral even further out of control as more people show up at his doorstep—each with increasingly unhinged antics. On the bright side, the memories he lost due to overwhelming trauma seem to be resurfacing. Great news, right? So why are they all panicking now?
esick Sect? Well, at least it's considered a respectable orthodox sect. Wait a minute— What kind of vibe are you all giving off? Shouldn’t this be a love-struck, romance-obsessed sect? Why does everyone here sound more like demonic cultivators? "Master, today he’s getting married. This disciple wishes to descend the mountain and crash the wedding, then toy with him to death right in front of his wife..." "Elder, I only got into your sect through connections, so why won’t you teach me anything?" "Because I also became an elder through connections." Thankfully, Su Ji was just an outer sect labor disciple. Surely, nothing too crazy would— "Junior Brother, you’ve broken through to Qi Refining. Once you sever your useless spiritual root, you can officially become an outer sect disciple." "The Great Dao is merciless. Don’t let a worthless spiritual root waste your essence and spirit, hindering your cultivation." Is this really the Lovesick Sect? ... Three years later, Su Ji sat in the seat of the Lovesick Sect’s sect master, sighing with emotion. His rise to this position all started when his junior sister adamantly insisted on preserving his "spiritual root." "Mmm... Senior Brother, what’s our relationship now?" "Stop talking. Keep going." "By the way, that newly promoted top-tier sect—didn’t they come to buy our Love Beans?" "One top-grade spirit stone per Love Bean—is that really so expensive?" "I suspect they’ve eaten too many Love Beans." "Now they’re lovesick." Well, this really is the Lovesick Sect after all.
