Chapter 134: Head-on Collision, You Are Nothing but Beasts

With a powerful swing, he hurled Bai Jing into a haystack some distance away. Taking advantage of the cover of darkness, Lin Yang lunged back at the three attackers. At a critical moment when any mistake could cost him his life, retreating blindly would only hasten his death. Lin Yang clearly had no intention of letting his happy life end just yet.

Fortunately, the three men had always assumed that Bai Jing was alone. She had been the only one to expose herself and cry out, so it was only natural that they believed there was no one else. Thus, when Lin Yang charged toward them like a madman, Bai Jing, flung aside and concealed by the darkness, went completely unnoticed.

More importantly, when he threw Bai Jing away, Lin Yang had been afraid that fear might make her scream again. He had therefore given her a light blow to the forehead, knocking her unconscious before tossing her aside. The lessons from his previous mistakes had been too painful; Lin Yang would never repeat them.

When Lin Yang launched himself forward, Bai Jing, who had been thrown away, had also become considerably wiser. Although she knew that being tossed like that would inevitably leave her bruised, she desperately suppressed her fear and covered her mouth with both hands.

Thud!

Her body struck the ground solidly. By sheer luck, however, she landed on her buttocks in the soft earth, so she suffered no serious injury.

“Xiaoyang!” Bai Jing cried out in terror as she watched Lin Yang charge away like a madman.

Lin Yang’s speed was astonishing. The three men advanced together in formation, but Lin Yang was no easy target. Otherwise, after surviving assassination attempt after assassination attempt, he would never have been able to stand calmly before them now. He was truly no ordinary man.

Without his throwing knives, Lin Yang, a plastic surgeon by profession, was like a lion stripped of its fangs. His only hope now was to close the distance and finish the three men in hand-to-hand combat.

Given the situation, there was no chance of escape. When two sides meet on a narrow road, the braver prevails. This was Lin Yang’s only choice: kill his way to survival.

The submachine guns were indeed formidable. Their dense streams of bullets were both swift and accurate. Had Lin Yang not possessed reflexes far beyond those of ordinary men, he would have been dead beneath their muzzles already. Even so, he could not avoid being grazed by the hail of bullets.

Faster. Faster. Faster still.

Lin Yang threw himself at them with all his might.

“Go to hell!”

Just as Lin Yang’s body came within half a centimeter of the nearest soldier, the young soldier snarled coldly. His voice was not loud, yet it carried a murderous chill.

The three men had seen people who cared nothing for their lives, but never had they encountered anyone quite so reckless. The soldier nearest to Lin Yang understood that better than anyone. As Lin Yang drew close with the agility of a wildcat, he drove a fist containing the full force of his body straight toward the young soldier’s head.

In close combat, a submachine gun instantly lost its advantage. Fearing that one of their comrades might be injured, the three highly trained men slung their guns behind them in a single practiced motion. In the blink of an eye, each drew a sharp dagger from the outside of his right calf. Compared with Lin Yang’s throwing knife, their blades were more than three times as long and several inches wider.

Crack!

Lin Yang’s fierce fist struck the young soldier squarely in the face, accompanied by the crisp sound of breaking bone. It was the unmistakable snap of a shattered nasal bridge. Surprisingly, the agonized scream that usually followed did not come.

Only a muffled groan escaped the soldier, slight but sufficient to prove that his nose had been badly broken.

Yet the instant Lin Yang struck him, he used the young soldier’s backward momentum to create a split-second opening. His body twisted at an uncanny angle, and he unleashed a flying kick at another soldier closing in from the side. The force was terrifying, stirring dust from the ground and sending the weeds swaying.

The entire sequence unfolded in the blink of an eye, fluid and seamless. Lin Yang was truly ruthless. At the very moment he drove his fist toward the young soldier’s face, a bullet fired at close range had struck his right forearm. Though he had shifted just in time, the bullet still tore away a large patch of flesh, and bright red blood instantly soaked the sleeve of his shirt.

Thud!

A dull impact rang out as Lin Yang’s right foot smashed into the other soldier’s pelvis. Compared with the young soldier whose nose had been broken, the one struck in the pelvis was far more unfortunate. The power behind Lin Yang’s kick was terrifying, beyond any need for explanation.

It did not quite shatter the soldier’s pelvis, but one kick was enough to leave him crippled from the waist down and completely unable to fight.

Unlike the earlier exchange, this time Lin Yang heard the long-awaited sound of a scream. It lasted only an instant, however, before the young soldier was overwhelmed by the pain and passed out.

Three men, all of them experts—and in a single exchange, one injured and one unconscious. In return for a bullet grazing his right arm and a knife cutting his waist, Lin Yang had come out far ahead.

“You deserve to die.”

The thin leader standing opposite Lin Yang spoke in a voice so icy that the surrounding air seemed to freeze. His eyes were filled with such murderous intent that, at first glance, they gave the impression that one might be frozen to death merely by looking into them.

When the young soldier whose nose had been broken climbed back to his feet and raised his dagger, preparing to fight Lin Yang to the death, the thin leader reached out and seized him. With a backward pull, he sent the young soldier stumbling three steps away. Casting him a cold glance, he barked in a hoarse voice, “I’ll handle him alone.”

The pride ingrained in soldiers—the arrogance of facing an opponent one-on-one—had led the thin leader to make the foolish decision to duel Lin Yang fairly.

Seeing the man’s foolishness, Lin Yang secretly laughed. He had been worried that, in his current condition, he might not be able to overcome both men if they attacked him together. Yet fate had unexpectedly handed him such a strange gift.

“You’re strong, but you’re destined to die by my hand,” the thin leader declared confidently.

Without waiting for Lin Yang to respond, he gripped the dagger in his right hand, drew it ninety degrees to the side, and slashed downward toward Lin Yang’s neck.

Devious.

That was the word that flashed through Lin Yang’s mind when his opponent suddenly attacked.

He drew back his right foot and leaned his upper body away, while straightening his left leg and sweeping it toward the man’s lower leg.

One should never underestimate the force Lin Yang brought against an enemy. The power of his strike was so violent that even before his left foot reached the man’s leg, the impact of the wind had already blown the fabric of his trouser leg backward. The strength behind the kick was terrifying.

Speed combined with overwhelming force left the thin leader no time to retreat. Yet when Lin Yang’s left leg swept toward him, the man did not give ground in the slightest.

He intends to meet force with force.

The thought flashed through Lin Yang’s mind.

Bang!

Their legs collided with full force. Listening closely, one could hear a dull clang, as though iron had struck iron.

One staggered back three steps, the other two. Both men wore looks of shock, but the astonishment in Lin Yang’s eyes was especially intense—as though he had just seen a ghost.

The man who had been forced back three steps was Lin Yang, who had always believed his body to be as hard as steel.

While Lin Yang was still astonished, the thin officer swept him with a cold gaze and gave a disdainful laugh.

“Boy, I admit that you’re strong. But compared with someone like me, who trains against steel every day in hellish drills, you’re still far too weak.”

His final words rang with powerful confidence—the kind that could only come from a warrior who had defeated hundreds of opponents and fought his way to the very top.

Lin Yang offered no verbal rebuttal. Instead, he answered with action.

One punch.

Once again, his target was the opponent’s throat.

The battle-hardened thin officer was clearly no pushover. The instant Lin Yang struck toward his neck, the man swept his broad dagger horizontally at Lin Yang’s fist.

A sharp blade against flesh—no sane person would do such a thing unless he had taken leave of his senses. Yet Lin Yang did exactly that. Whether he was a fool was something that would require a genetic examination to determine.

Just as the thin officer stared in bewilderment at the fist rushing toward his blade, Lin Yang’s clenched hand began to rotate. It spiraled around the man’s arm like a twisted rope, while the fist itself transformed into a sharp, pointed shape. With a sudden upward motion followed by a vicious thrust, it struck the man directly in the throat.

Crack!

A faint but chilling sound rang out. The thin officer’s eyes widened, and threads of blood instantly spread across his eyeballs. His right hand loosened, releasing the dagger, which Lin Yang caught with his left hand before it could hit the ground.

With disbelief still written across his face, the thin officer slowly toppled backward.

“Boss!”

Seeing his leader fall, the young soldier—the one whose nose Lin Yang had shattered—snapped out of his shock and screamed at the top of his lungs. He seized the submachine gun from his back and unleashed a furious burst at Lin Yang.

The bullets flew fast, but Lin Yang’s dagger moved faster. Clanging sounds rang out like a blacksmith striking metal. The young soldier had been less than five meters away, and as Lin Yang used the dagger to deflect the bullets, his clenched right hand formed a claw and reached viciously for the soldier’s throat.

When the young soldier saw the claw coming for him, he staggered backward several steps in panic. Hesitation could never match preparation. The young soldier retreated three steps, but Lin Yang, propelled by his charge, forced his way forward two. The distance between them narrowed, and the claw accelerated even further.

“Ah!”

A shrill scream burst from the young soldier’s throat. Three bloody furrows had been torn across it. Terrified, he clutched at the wound as blood poured through his fingers. The submachine gun slipped from his grasp and hung from its shoulder strap.

Lin Yang would never give an enemy even the slightest opening, nor would he waste an opportunity placed before him. As the young soldier hurriedly covered his throat, Lin Yang changed the downward motion of the dagger in his right hand. He drew it back, then thrust it forward, aiming for the most vital organ in the human body—the heart.

If the heart was pierced and the victim did not die, then either he possessed some bizarre anatomical abnormality, or the dead had truly risen.

Clearly, the young soldier belonged to neither category. When Lin Yang’s dagger sank into his heart, great mouthfuls of blood spilled from his lips. His eyes gradually lost their focus, and he collapsed into the pool of blood, unwilling to accept his fate.

Two dead and one unconscious.

Lin Yang finally let out a breath of relief. But when he turned his head and saw that the car had vanished without a trace, he ground his teeth in fury. He had been careful—careful, and then even more careful—yet the other side had still managed to outmaneuver him. It left him deeply frustrated.