Reborn in the 60s, I hunt to support my family and even seduce the village beauty.

In less than two minutes, seven or eight people were lying on the ground.

Some hugged their arms, some covered their legs, some covered their heads, and some curled up, groaning and crying out, like a pack of dogs whose tails had been stepped on.

Chang Kun stood in the middle of them, not even panting, and looked up at the rest of the people.

Those people stood there, unable to move forward or backward. They looked at each other, none of them willing to take another step.

Zhang Quhun stood at the back, his sleeves already rolled up, ready to rush up and help.

With his massive size, if he just barged into a crowd, he could knock down several people just by ramming into them with his body, without even lifting a finger.

But before he could take the first step, he froze.

Chang Kun weaved through the crowd like an eel, and with a few quick splatters, seven or eight people were lying on the ground.

Zhang Quhun's mouth was open and wouldn't close, his eyes were wide open like copper bells, and he didn't blink for a long time.

He knew Chang Kun had some skill, but he never expected it to be this kind of skill...

At that moment, three people stepped out from behind the crowd.

All three were in their thirties, very thin, wearing gray cloth jackets with tightly tied cuffs and black cloth shoes.

The martial arts practitioners practicing under the overpass are clearly not comparable to those oddballs from before.

The three of them stood together, whispered a few words, exchanged glances, nodded, and stood in front of Chang Kun.

The leader, a man with a square face and a small tuft of beard on his chin, clasped his hands together and gave a perfunctory bow, exuding an air of superiority.

He looked Chang Kun up and down, his lips curling downwards.

"Kid, you've got some skills! Looks like you're in the same line of work? But we're not impressed with your abilities! Your apology is too late today, just wait and see!!"

Before he could finish speaking, his two companions had already moved.

One person went left, and another went right, so the three of them formed a semi-circle around Chang Kun.

The square-faced man threw a punch straight at Chang Kun's face, the one on the left kicked at Chang Kun's knee, and the one on the right elbowed at Chang Kun's ribs.

The three worked together seamlessly, clearly trained. They attacked with fists, feet, legs, and elbows, striking from above, below, left, and right, blocking all of Chang Kun's escape routes.

Zhang Quhun watched from behind, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a half-step forward, about to go and help, but then stopped.

Chang Kun ducked down, and the square-faced man's punch flew past his head, missing its mark.

He lunged forward, his elbow landing squarely on the square-faced man's chest.

He cried out "Ouch!" and stumbled back several steps, landing hard on his backside. He braced himself with his hands and couldn't get up for a long time, his face showing the pain and confusion of someone who had been gored by a bull.

The man on the left kicked at Chang Kun without even looking. He reached out and grabbed the man's ankle, pulling him into his arms.

The man was standing on one leg, which was not a stable position. With a "Ah!" he was lifted into the air and did a split.

With a "rip," a hole appeared in his crotch.

He clutched his crotch, his face flushed red, his mouth agape but unable to speak, whether from pain or shame was unclear.

The oddballs behind him forgot why they had come and started laughing.

"Master chef, that was a brilliant move!"

"You started a fight because your crotch wasn't sewn up properly, hahaha..."

"I think I saw a splash of red inside just now. Is it the master chef's zodiac year?"

Offstage, he was all smiles and laughter; onstage, Chang Kun handled things with ease.

The elbow on his right came at him, and he dodged to the side. The elbow grazed his chest, and before it could be pulled back, the man reached out and flicked his elbow hard.

The man's entire arm felt like it had been electrocuted, going numb all the way from his fingertips to his shoulder, and then it hung limply down.

He stood there, stunned, looking at his arm, then at Chang Kun, his expression as if asking, "What the hell is this? If you're going to fight, then fight! Why the hell did you flick someone's nerve?!"

The three people collapsed in less than five seconds.

One sat on the ground unable to get up, another clutched his crotch and dared not move, and a third held up his limp arm with a bewildered expression.

Behind Yang Wei, there were still some who hadn't made a move yet. They were all staring wide-eyed, mouths agape, their jaws practically dropping to their chests.

Some people reacted first, their voices filled with lingering fear.

"This is a master! Absolutely a grandmaster of Chinese martial arts!"

"How did Yang Wei manage to mess with someone like that?"

"Hey! I think I've heard of this Chang Kun! He caught a lot of spies before! Think about it, someone who can catch spies isn't an ordinary person, he must be really skilled!"

Zhang Quhun stood behind, his jaw almost dropping.

He looked Chang Kun up and down, then glanced at the people lying on the ground. He opened his mouth several times, but finally managed to utter only one sentence.

"Brother Kun, your skills are just too outrageous!"

Chang Kun turned around and smiled, about to say, "You should learn from this, kid."

An old man watching the commotion suddenly shouted.

"Watch out, kid! There's a knife!"

Zhang Quhun caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye. A cold light flashed from the side, and he kicked off the ground with all his might, charging forward like a bull, shouting, "Brother Kun, watch out—"

But no matter how big his steps were, he couldn't keep up with the speed of the knife.

Chang Kun had already noticed it.

Having practiced the Eighteen Forms of Sanshou for so long, I also have the skill of dangerous intuition.

The moment the cold wind rose from behind, his body reacted before his mind could process it.

He didn't turn around, but shifted his body to the side, the blade grazing his back.

The attacker lost his momentum and stumbled forward. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Chang Kun flipped his right hand and grabbed the man's wrist that was holding the knife.

The thumb is pressed into the indentation on the inside of the wrist bone, while the other four fingers grip the wrist like an iron clamp, tightening more and more.

The man's hand went numb instantly, and his entire arm felt as if the bones had been removed, leaving it limp and powerless.

The dagger slid out of his hand, and Chang Kun caught it steadily with his left hand, hilt up, blade down, his fingers pinching the back of the blade, his movements as light and agile as if he were holding chopsticks.

The attacker looked down at his empty right hand, then looked up at the knife in Chang Kun's hand, his expression a mixture of shock and fear.

Chang Kun twirled the knife in his hand, the blade drawing a circle in the air, then gripped the hilt with his other hand, the tip pointing downwards, and plunged it down!

The dagger grazed the man's thigh and plunged into the ground, sinking half an inch deep. The hilt vibrated several times before finally stopping.

The faces of the several old men who were watching the commotion nearby all changed.

The nearest white-bearded old man stood up, leaning on his fishing rod, and pointed at the group of people.

"You bunch of brats! If you're going to fight, then fight! Why did you have to use knives? If someone gets killed, who will take responsibility?!"

An old man wearing a straw hat next to him also started shouting.

"Exactly! Fighting here is already outrageous enough!"

"What if someone gets killed? Will we still be able to fish here at night?!"

This old man isn't afraid of fighting, he's just afraid of having his fishing interrupted...