In the void, Chen Pingchuan beckoned lightly, and Belia's Backstabbing Blade materialized in his palm. His gaze was like a torch, firmly locked on Jiang Fulong's right arm. Then, he abruptly exerted force. With a sharp SWOOSH, the blade rose and fell, streaking across the night sky like a glint of cold light.
Then, he slowly shifted his gaze to Chen Pingchuan and the other two. He was gritting his teeth against the agonizing pain from his right arm. It felt like millions of steel needles were stabbing through his muscles and bone, causing his face to twist violently until his features were knotted together in a grimace.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice trembling as he searched their faces for an answer. "I have no quarrel with you. Why did you ambush me?"
Chen Pingchuan casually waved his hand again, returning the Backstabbing Blade to the void. By now, he was quite proficient at using the simulator's reward space as a temporary inventory. The only downside was that it couldn't store items that weren't simulator rewards.
"Heaven is watching," Chen Pingchuan said, his voice firm. "Your time is up. I didn't take your worthless head in one stroke because I promised those who died unjustly at your hands that I would sever all your limbs.
"I will turn you into a human swine, forcing you to spend the rest of your life repenting in agony."
Chen Pingchuan's words were resolute, not only astonishing the woman but also causing Liu Haofeng and the other man to see him in a new light. They never thought that this seemingly cold-hearted leader of theirs could be so impassioned.
"Hahaha..." Jiang Fulong laughed maniacally. "I've roamed the martial world for many years, and I've never known the meaning of regret.
"If you want me to repent, you'll have to wait for my next life."
After speaking, Jiang Fulong's left hand darted from behind him, pulling a syringe from his waist. He fiercely plunged it into the stump of his right arm. A second later, the profuse bleeding miraculously stopped.
"Come on, let me see what you've got!" Jiang Fulong roared, looking like a maddened beast. His muscles instantly tensed like steel, and veins bulged on his skin like writhing serpents.
With a roar, he unleashed a terrifying power that seemed to warp the very air around him. He slowly raised his head, his eyes flashing with a frenzied determination. The pain from his severed arm didn't seem to diminish his fighting spirit; instead, it only added to his ferocity.
Chen Pingchuan quietly observed his opponent's every move, his gaze as calm and unruffled as still water, as if everything was proceeding exactly as he had anticipated. In truth, he had noticed Jiang Fulong's furtive move with the syringe. But now, with an absolute advantage, a new thought took root in his mind. He wanted to make this villain, who had committed so many atrocities, experience what true despair felt like.
Jiang Fulong's figure blurred. His movements were incredibly swift, belying the fact that he'd just lost an arm. He abruptly swung his left fist, the punch tearing through the air with a sharp whistle. Although the loss of his right arm made his form slightly awkward, the punch still carried immense power, rocketing toward Chen Pingchuan like a cannonball.
Chen Pingchuan remained unfazed, not even considering a dodge. He bent his knees slightly, then abruptly stomped down. The ground beneath his feet couldn't withstand the immense force and began to crack.
His body shot forward like a cannonball, carrying unstoppable momentum as he threw a powerful punch of his own.
"Focus Blast!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The two fists collided with a sound like a thunderclap, unleashing a massive shockwave. The surrounding air visibly rippled, and the blast sent the wreckage of the bed and other debris flying. At that moment, both men abandoned intricate techniques. Like primitive warriors, they relied on pure, raw power in the narrow space, locked in a struggle of life and death—one from which only Chen Pingchuan would emerge alive.
Seeing that his fierce assault failed to push Chen Pingchuan back, Jiang Fulong's madness intensified. He roared, using the force of their collision to spin violently and drive his iron-hard left elbow toward Chen Pingchuan's temple.
If this strike landed, even someone with Chen Pingchuan's formidable strength would be severely injured and briefly stunned. Chen Pingchuan's eyes sharpened. He knew full well the danger of this attack; a wounded beast is always the most ferocious.
He abruptly dropped, dodging Jiang Fulong's elbow from an extremely tricky angle. At the same time, taking advantage of the opening created by the missing arm, he launched a sweeping kick at Jiang Fulong's legs. The kick whistled through the air, stirring up dust and splinters from the floor.
Sensing the danger, Jiang Fulong leaped high into the air. He flipped mid-air to dodge the sweep, bringing his own left leg crashing down like an axe toward Chen Pingchuan's shoulder. The kick contained all his remaining strength, amplified by the explosive power of his rage and pain. If it landed, it would surely shatter Chen Pingchuan's shoulder blade.
"Die, boy!" Jiang Fulong's roar followed instantly.