Chen Ping waved a hand, signalling to Bai Yi not to worry.
He rolled his shoulders, grinning, “Just in time, I was getting bored!”
Bao Hu’s face darkened, veins throbbing on his forehead.
He slammed the table in front of him, splintering it, and roared, “Kill this arrogant brat!”
The first fighter charged, swinging fists like iron hammers, wrapped in a faint aura of energy, his physical strength clearly honed to perfection.
Chen Ping didn’t dodge, meeting the attack with a punch of his own. His fist looked pitifully small in comparison, yet it carried unstoppable momentum.
*Crack!*
A sharp snap of breaking bone pierced the silence of Bao Hu’s den.
The burly man’s arm twisted into a grotesque angle, bone piercing skin, blood gushing out.
He screamed, flying backwards, crashing through a pillar at the arena’s edge, and collapsing unconscious.
The second and third attackers struck together, one with a fist like a battering ram, the other sweeping a leg like a steel whip.
Chen Ping sidestepped with ease, his hands darting like butterflies to tap lightly on their bodies.
*Pfft!*
“Argh!”
One fighter spat blood, collapsing to his knees; the other clutched a mangled leg, wailing in agony.
Each of Chen Ping’s strikes hit vital points with surgical precision, deceptively gentle but packing devastating force.
Like a tiger among sheep, Chen Ping moved effortlessly through the ten fighters’ onslaught.
His speed dazzled, leaving Bao Hu’s men grasping at air, unable to touch even the hem of his clothes.
With every strike, an enemy fell, screaming, with broken arms, shattered legs, or knocked out cold.
Bao Hu’s fighters, horrified, attacked with greater ferocity.
Yet Chen Ping grew fiercer, his speed accelerating, his strength surging.
Under his assault, Bao Hu’s men crumpled, their cries echoing relentlessly.
The crowd watched, dumbstruck, never having seen such overwhelming combat prowess.
One man against ten elite fighters, not only holding his ground but dominating them, defied all reason.
“Is he even human?” someone muttered.
“How can his physical strength be this terrifying?” another said in disbelief.
As time passed, the arena’s outcome became clear.
Only two of Bao Hu’s ten fighters remained, barely holding on. Seeing their fallen comrades, fear gripped them, their movements growing frantic.
Chen Ping seized the moment, flashing behind one and striking his neck with a fist.
The man’s vision blackened, and he slumped to the ground.
Charging the last fighter, Chen Ping sent him flying with a single kick.
In mere minutes, only Chen Ping stood on the stage.
Bao Hu’s fighters lay scattered, groaning in pain.
Blood stained the obsidian floor, glinting eerily under the lights.
Bao Hu’s face was ashen. Though unwilling, he stammered, “I… I surrender…”
His voice was a feeble whisper, a stark contrast to his earlier bravado.
Bai Yi leapt up, his wrinkled face beaming, “Hahaha, we’re rich! Nuo Qing, empty Bao Hu’s vault!”
Rubbing his hands, he calculated how many rare materials these spirit coins could buy.
Chen Ping strolled to Bao Hu, looking down at the once-arrogant master of Bao Hu’s den.
His gaze was icy, as if regarding an insect, “Remember, when you see Spirit Fox Den’s people, steer clear.”
At that moment, a sinister glint flashed in Bao Hu’s eyes. He suddenly drew a poisoned dagger from his sleeve, its blade shimmering with a venomous green glow.
With lightning speed, he thrust it towards Chen Ping’s heart!
