The Self-Cultivation of a Reborn Massage Therapist

Chapter 291 Won
Zhao Xiaochui lunged forward, and before the agent could react, he was tackled to the ground. Zhao Xiaochui's knee slammed into the agent's chest, while his hands gripped the agent's arms like iron clamps and twisted them sharply.

"Crack! Click!"

Two crisp cracking sounds of bones breaking were heard, and the agent let out a pig-like scream, completely losing the ability to resist.

Zhao Xiaochui didn't stop. Dragging his injured leg, he charged towards his next target like a wounded wild beast.

Internal Martial Arts - Xingyi Techniques - Leopard Charge.

He ducked low and slammed into another agent's abdomen. The agent's body instantly arched like a shrimp, spitting out a mouthful of acid mixed with blood and foam, and he flew backward, crashing heavily against the wall, unable to get up for a long time.

"Stop him! Don't let him get close to the commander!" an agent roared, but Zhao Xiaochui was already in a bloodthirsty frenzy. All he could see was the tactical commander, who, despite being seriously wounded, was still charging forward fiercely.

Internal Martial Arts - Xingyi Techniques - Dragon Form Piercing the Heart.

Instead of retreating, Zhao Xiaochui advanced, twisting his body sharply to dodge the vicious knife thrust. His right fist, carrying a spiraling force, slammed into the tactical commander's chest.

"puff!"

The tactical commander's body stiffened abruptly, swayed a few times, and a mouthful of blood welled up in his throat, but he swallowed it back. However, the ferocity in his eyes had turned into terror and pain.

That punch has nearly killed him.

Just then, the office building door was kicked open with a bang!

Outside the door, a fully armed special agent support team rushed in, the muzzles of M4 carbines and MP5 submachine guns pointed menacingly at Zhao Xiaochui. They wore night vision goggles, their eyes cold and professional.

"Fire!" the lead agent captain roared.

However, Zhao Xiaochui was even faster.

He suddenly grabbed the seriously wounded tactical commander and hoisted him onto his shoulder like a sack. Then, dragging his injured leg, he dashed to the stairwell and, passing the fallen Boulder agent, swiftly grabbed the burly man with his left hand, pulling him up like a dead dog and half-dragging, half-carrying him onto his own body.

The three heavily wounded enemies and allies formed a ball of flesh and rushed towards the stairwell with apparent slow speed.

According to the heat flow, there are only two ways to go up to the second floor: the elevator and the stairs. Using the elevator would surely lead to death. But the heat flow tells him that if he does nothing, taking the stairs will also lead to the same result!

"Don't fire! Watch out for your own people!" the special agent captain roared, his pupils shrinking.

The soft, bloody mass of flesh staggered and rushed toward the stairs.

The support team behind them was hesitant to fire, so they could only keep up the chase but dared not fire easily, for fear of accidentally injuring their comrades who were being used as shields by Zhao Xiaochui.

"Boom~~~~"

Just as Zhao Xiaochui rushed to the top of the stairs, ready to rush down, a deafening crash suddenly came from below the stairs!
That was a bomb trap meticulously set up by top demolition experts, with tremendous power. The reason it didn't blow off the roof of the office building was simply because it was... a directional blast!
That 'Commissioner Smith' upstairs doesn't care about the lives of his 'comrades' at all.

The shockwave swept in like a giant wave, blasting Zhao Xiaochui and the agents who were chasing him, along with the two human shields he was carrying on his back, all flying away!
Debris, steel bars, and flesh were torn apart at the center of the explosion, turning it into a living hell.

…………

Beyond the smoke and bloodshed lies a life of extravagance and decadence.

Beijing, Park Hyatt Hotel, rooftop ballroom. The banquet was drawing to a close, but the atmosphere remained lively, only less intense than at the start, and more relaxed and casual.

Throughout the banquet hall, guests no longer confined to their seats, but scattered in small groups throughout the space. Some held half-full champagne glasses, conversing in hushed tones.

Others gathered around the buffet table, enjoying the delicate snacks or clinking glasses. In a corner, several young faces were chatting and laughing quietly, perhaps sharing gossip or dreaming about the future. Their laughter occasionally rose a few octaves above the surrounding conversations, sounding exceptionally clear.

The air was filled with the faint aroma of wine, the scent of fine perfume, and the lingering aftertaste of food.

A picture of peaceful and serene life, nothing more than this.

Leng Xiao turned his gaze away from the venue. At that moment, Wei Lan was eating the Buddha Jumps Over the Wall soup.

"tasty."

…………

"The Five-Starred Red Flag... The Five-Starred Red Flag..."

The music in his headphones jolted Zhao Xiaochui awake. The strong taste of blood in his mouth and the suffocating feeling in his throat made him gag a few times, his stomach churning.

He struggled to push away the unknown, warm, fleshy mass pressing against his chest and upper body; the sticky sensation sent a chill down his spine.

His head was buzzing like a swarm of bees as he swayed and tried to sit up. A wave of intense dizziness washed over him, causing his body to sway again. He had to use his relatively healthy left leg to support himself and jump around in place two or three times. He fell twice before finally managing to regain his balance.

His down jacket was torn to shreds, the charred fabric hanging from his body, revealing large patches of bloody, mangled skin. Blood mixed with dirt and ash had congealed on his face and arms, and in some places it was still oozing out.

His right arm was twisted at an odd angle, clearly broken. His left leg could support him, but dark red blood was soaked through his trousers. His hair was matted together with blood and sweat, his face was covered in dirt, and his eyes were bloodshot, revealing a fierce and relieved feeling of surviving a disaster.

Zhao Xiaochui grinned, revealing scarlet teeth and a chilling smile.

He won!
According to the heat flow perception, there are two more people upstairs. One is standing straight, aiming a pistol at the stairwell; the other is trembling in a corner.
Zhao Xiaochui tilted his head, somewhat puzzled—the one aiming the gun should be that 'Commissioner Smith,' so who is the other one?
A fearless special agent?
At this moment, the intense tinnitus finally disappeared, and the groans of some surviving 'pieces of flesh' could be heard in my ears.

After getting caught up in the group battle, Zhao Xiaochui didn't have time to kill anyone. So most of the agents who were seriously injured by him survived the explosion, but unlike Zhao Xiaochui, they didn't have two human shields and were in poor condition.

If these heinous agents didn't have one redeeming quality—their sole concern for the lives of their comrades—then Zhao Xiaochui might have been the one to lose this showdown!

Seeing their state, Zhao Xiaochui felt a little sorry for them. He hopped over to the nearest piece of flesh, and with his left hand supporting his broken right hand, he slapped it with a 'smack'.

Instantly, the stagnation accumulated in the flesh due to years of training was absorbed, allowing Zhao Xiaochui's stamina to recover slightly. As the heat flowed in, his gray hair seemed to turn grayer, and his face regained some color, no longer as deathly pale as a corpse.

The heat helped restore the flesh to some extent, but it couldn't do anything about the traumatic injuries caused by missing limbs or shrapnel.

then--

"Ah~~~~"

The groans turned into piercing screams of agony.

"What are you howling about?"

(End of this chapter)