During the Republic of China era, I achieved unparalleled success by returning to the past.

The twelfth day of the twelfth lunar month. No. 28 Changxing Road.

A fine drizzle fell, and night enveloped the spires of the Western-style buildings. Streetlights cast dim, yellowish beams in the rain and mist, and the damp shadows of trees clung to the walls.

"Kill!" In the cold rain, there were no superfluous words, only silent battle.

"Pfft! Pfft!"

Dark blood pooled in the lawn, forming streams, and corpses lay scattered haphazardly on the ground.

The fighting was between two groups: one side consisted of axe-wielding thugs in black short jackets and white armbands, and the other side consisted of defenders in suits and vests. Ding Qiang kicked one of the axe-wielding thugs away; as Zhang Dabao's newly accepted apprentice and a "Red Stick" leader, he was responsible for guarding the entrance.

The battle is nearing its end.

"Zhang Feilong!" A furious roar erupted.

Boom! Crash! The door to the lobby of the Western-style building was smashed to pieces, and glass shattered everywhere.

Zhang Feilong stumbled and fell, his feet scrambling across the grass, taking five or six steps back before regaining his footing. Zhang Dabao kicked the broken wooden frame away, strode out like a tiger, and demanded sharply, "Why? Have I mistreated you?"

Zhang Feilong shook the hem of his silk robe and took off the sunglasses perched on his nose: "Brother, you've married and had children, you should retire and enjoy your life. Why do you still occupy the position of the boss?"

"Damn it!" Zhang Dabao roared like a tiger, took a step forward, his hand in a tiger claw shape, and instantly closed in on Zhang Feilong.

Zhang Feilong slammed his left foot into the ground and then kicked out with his right foot in mid-air, unleashing a continuous barrage of twelve spring kicks.

There's an old saying in the martial arts world: "Hands are like two doors, but striking relies entirely on the legs." Zhang Feilong's leg techniques are fierce and swift. Zhang Dabao, on the other hand, uses the Tiger Style Fist, which is unparalleled in its power and ferocity.

All that could be heard was the howling of the wind and the clanging of fists and feet, a dull, deafening sound. The two exchanged blows for about ten rounds, neither gaining the upper hand. Suddenly, Zhang Dabao let out a loud shout, and his right hand abruptly changed from a tiger form to a crane form, unleashing the Tiger-Crane Dual Form.

Suddenly, with a soft thud, Zhang Feilong's flying kick to the right calf was caught by a tiger's claw like an iron hook, and three hideous bloody holes appeared on his calf. At the same time, he twisted his waist and swung his right foot towards Zhang Dabao's temple. Clang! The blade of his shoe popped out!

On the brink of life and death, Zhang Dabao raised his elbow to block, the blade of his shoe piercing into his arm flesh. His body swayed slightly, and with a cry of pain, he slammed his palm down on Zhang Feilong like an iron winnowing basket.

Zhang Feilong was struck as if by a heavy hammer. His hundred-pound body flew out and rolled several times on the lawn before he could barely stand up. He coughed up blood and laughed bitterly, "Big brother is still big brother. Decades have passed, and I still can't beat you."

Zhang Dabao glanced at the bleeding wound on his arm. If he had reacted even a fraction slower, this wound would have appeared on his temple. He said in a deep voice, "You still prefer crooked ways."

"Hehe, the winner takes all, whatever Big Brother says goes."

Suddenly, gunshots rang out in quick succession.

Zhang Dabao reacted incredibly quickly; almost simultaneously, his obese body leaped to the side, falling and rolling on the ground.

Bullets chased after him, thudding and whistling as they struck the ground, sending dirt and grass flying. He grabbed a corpse to shield himself, his eyes bloodshot as he roared, "Zhang Feilong, you still say you didn't do it!"

bang bang-

Two lines of fire shot out diagonally from the courtyard wall, not in a straight line, but as if they had eyes, they circled around the corpse in front of them!

Zhang Dabao's pupils suddenly contracted. "An arc? A turn!" He pushed off with his feet and fell backward.

With a soft thud, the bullet pierced his shoulder, and blood spurted out instantly.

A chill ran through him. Ignoring Zhang Feilong, he fell to the ground and slid backward like an eel, grabbing two corpses to protect his head. With a leap, he burst through the window and escaped into the house like a carp leaping over a dragon gate.

Two bullets followed him and hit his thigh.

From the sound of the gunshot to Zhang Dabao escaping into the house, only a breath or two passed. Song Beiyou raised his eyes and looked at the upper floor of the Western-style building, where Su Xiaowan had already taken advantage of the chaos to sneak in and search for the serum.

After a moment's consideration, he instructed, "I'll go after Zhang Feilong, you go and meet Ah Chun."

Xie Sanhe nodded.

"Zhang Dabao's skill should not be underestimated. The shots just now did not hit his vital organs. Be very careful."

……

The night was dark and the wind and rain were bitter.

At the inconspicuous ferry crossing on the Suzhou Creek, only one awning boat is moored, and the lantern on the boat is reflected on the black silk-like water.

Zhang Feilong walked hurriedly, alone, carrying a large leather suitcase in each hand. He arrived in no time. Looking around and seeing no movement, he called out in a low voice:

"Ah Wei, Ah Biao."

A figure emerged from the covered boat, jumped ashore, and said with a faint smile, "Second Master has arrived."

Zhang Feilong's expression changed drastically: "It's you!"

Song Beiyou grinned, revealing his teeth, but his expression was somewhat cold: "Second Master, where are you going in such a hurry?"

Zhang Feilong's face darkened. Instead of answering, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Song Beiyou laughed and said, "Master Bao asked me to see Second Master off."

"Hehehehe." Zhang Feilong actually laughed out loud, "Now I finally know why he can be the boss and I can't. He's more cunning and ruthless than me."

Song Beiyou smiled and asked, "Second Master, would you like to do it yourself, or should I do it?"

"You think you can kill me just because I'm injured? You think you're really the Zhabei Boxing King? You're just a boxer for show, no different from those actors on stage." Zhang Feilong grinned, a smile that sent chills down one's spine.

Seeing that Song Beiyou didn't speak, he continued, "I'll give you half of these two boxes, and you can pretend you've never seen me before, how about that? Otherwise, if we fight, you won't come out on top, and you might even lose your life."

Song Beiyou shook his head, a chilling smile playing on his lips: "I want both Second Master's life and his money."

Before he could finish speaking, he leaped forward, pushed off with both feet, and in mid-air, he suddenly pulled out a cleaver from his back.

A flash of cold light appeared, and Zhang Feilong's eyes narrowed. A startled and absurd thought arose in his mind: This kid wants to kill me with a butcher's knife?

"An inch longer, an inch stronger, kid, don't you understand?" A fierce and mocking glint flashed in his eyes. With a flick of his arm, a sword blade emerged from his sleeve with a clang, aimed upwards, determined to pierce Song Beiyou through the heart before he could strike.

Clang! The sound of metal clashing was sharp and piercing.

Zhang Feilong's right arm, concealed by a hidden sword, was deflected by the bone-chopping knife. He then stepped forward, his left arm unleashing a cold blade like a venomous snake, swiftly stabbing at Song Beiyou's right waist as he landed.

At the critical moment, a flash of cold light appeared.

Clang! The blade tip was blocked by the cleaver's blade, and both of them jolted simultaneously.

Zhang Feilong shrugged, bent his elbow, and drew his sword back, the blade flashing blindingly.

At the same moment, Song Beiyou secretly channeled his inner strength, his palm veins bulging, and with a sudden turn of his cleaver, it transformed into a round, cold moon-like beam of light, rapidly swirling around the sword hidden in his sleeve.

A screeching, grating sound filled the air as sparks flew, and the steel-forged blade shattered into pieces. Then, a cold light, like threads, wrapped around his arm. The sound of a sharp blade cutting through flesh filled the air!

Ah! A heart-wrenching scream echoed across the empty river. Zhang Feilong looked at his arm, now reduced to bone, and turned to flee.

Song Beiyou strode to catch up, their figures intersecting. A cold glint flashed past Zhang Feilong's neck, then swirled and returned to his lower back.

The skill of the master butcher Ding in carving up an ox is no child's play!

*Sizzle!* The wound on the side of his neck split open, and blood sprayed out like mist more than ten feet away. Zhang Feilong staggered forward two steps, pressed one hand against the wound, and suddenly turned around—

In that instant, he felt no fear, no despair. Only rage.

Blood seeped from between his fingers, but he laughed, revealing teeth stained red with blood: "You want me dead? I'll make you pay with your life!"

His forehead veins bulged, and he charged forward recklessly, his hand violently grabbing at the buttons on his clothes.

Pull the detonator! Explosives!

Song Beiyou felt a chill run down his spine. In almost the same instant, he reached down, drew his gun from its sheath, and fired.

Bang bang bang bang bang! Five shots in quick succession, blood flashing—Zhang Feilong's five fingers, which were grabbing at the button, were all broken off and fell to the ground.

He was stunned.

Looking down at his bare palms, he saw his fingerless hands mechanically making "grabbing" motions, once, twice, like a dead centipede still twitching.

Then he looked up.

Blood gushed from between his fingers, staining half his body red. He stood there, staring at Song Beiyou, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

"Heh..." A sound like a broken bellows rolled from his throat, not the dying whimper of a lone wolf, but laughter. "Heh heh... heh heh heh..."

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, yet he was still smiling. His eyes were fixed, like a vengeful ghost staring at a living person.

Song Beiyou didn't move, he just looked at him.

Zhang Feilong's knees buckled, and he knelt down in the mud, his eyes fixed on him, refusing to close.

Song Beiyou squatted down and looked directly into those eyes.

"Brother Feilong," his voice was calm, "I'm the one who kidnapped your strategist. I also ruined Master Bao's business."

Zhang Feilong's eyes widened suddenly. In that instant, his smile vanished, and before he could even change the look in his eyes, he stared wide-eyed, his head lolled to the side, and he fell into the mud.

The cool raindrops fell on his face. Song Beiyou stood up; his face was slanted in the mud, his eyes still open, staring intently at him.

The river breeze carried the fishy smell of water.

Song Beiyou bent down, grabbed Zhang Feilong's ankle, and dragged him step by step to the riverbank like a dead dog, then casually threw him aside.

Splash! Water splashed everywhere, and Zhang Feilong's bloodless face was swallowed by the dark river.

Song Beiyou glanced down at the sticky blood on his hands, squatted down on the bank, and put his hands into the cold river water, slowly rubbing them clean. The bloodstains spread in the water and were quickly washed away.

His tense lips slowly relaxed. "Brother Feilong, may you rest in peace."

Suddenly, an invisible brushstroke outlined rust-like characters before my eyes: [Qianyuan Eightfold Awakening - Initial Awakening: Awakening Level 100%]