Chapter 147 — The Long-Awaited...

From the way the two moved, Yang Puqi understood at once that these men were immeasurably stronger than the bearded man and the buzz-cut fellow. They were clearly rigorously trained and worked in perfect concert; even when one came forward to fight him, they did not forget to leave the other behind to keep guarding Yan Shoubao.

To be continued.

895. Take a Look at This

895. Take a Look at This. The mole-faced bodyguard did not attack Yang Ce at once. Instead he advanced half a meter in small steps and came to a halt two meters away from Yang Ce.

This was the safe distance for a fight, something anyone who had been in a few brawls knew well—Yang Ce included. From two meters out, no punch or kick could land in a single strike, and one had ample time to react.

So until he had properly gauged Yang Juehuan's true strength, he would not act rashly—otherwise he would end up like the two fellows lying on the floor, dead without even knowing how they had died.

"Come on, then. Show me how you took down those two pieces of trash on the floor." The mole-faced bodyguard was no fool. He wanted to provoke Yang Ce into striking first, the better to sound out Yang Juehuan's depths.

"The moment I move, you'll be trash too." How could Yang Ce fail to guess the mole-faced bodyguard's intent? Yet Yang Jiyan did not care in the slightest, for Yang Moyi was absolutely certain he could finish him in a single move.

The mole-faced bodyguard was taken aback for a moment, then understood Yang Juehuan's meaning at once. He himself had called the bearded man and the buzz-cut fellow trash, and now those two were lying on the floor; Yang Juehuan was implying that the moment Yang Puqi moved, he too would be lying on the floor.

A flicker of anger rose in the mole-faced bodyguard's heart, but as an excellent bodyguard he knew he must not lose his temper now—losing one's temper in a fight was the greatest taboo. Forcing down his displeasure, he said with a perfectly blank face, "Since you've willingly given up your chance to strike first, I won't hold back."

"Suit yourself." Yang Ce tossed out two words that nearly made the mole-faced bodyguard's lungs burst with rage. He had seen arrogance before, but never such utter indifference. It was sheer contempt for his very existence—worse than arrogance, and far harder to bear.

Angry as he was, though, the mole-faced bodyguard had not lost his reason. Cautiously he probed forward with a kick—a pure feint, of course, meant only to draw Yang Ce out. He was fully two meters from Yang Ce; however long his legs, there was no chance of landing it on Yang Juehuan.

"Warming up, are you?" Yang Jiyan did not even bother to dodge. He stood exactly where he was, watching the mole-faced bodyguard with a half-smile.

The mole-faced bodyguard knew his ploy had been seen through and was thrown into utter embarrassment, his face burning red. He cleared his throat twice, but could hardly deny it, and so could only say, "What, I'm not allowed to warm up just because you won't strike?"

"Of course you are. Warm up all you like." Yang Ce made a gesture inviting him to go ahead, then stood to one side with his arms folded, looking for all the world as though it had nothing to do with him—which left the mole-faced bodyguard grinding his teeth in frustration, utterly helpless.

It seemed there was no hope of luring Yang Ce into striking first. He would have to find his own opening.

It was not that Yang Ce had to wait for this fellow to move first. Killing him with a single blow would hardly make an overwhelming impression on Yan Shoubao. The longer this dragged on, the greater the psychological pressure on Yan Shoubao, and only then would the man be thoroughly cowed—so that the next time Mingyang Heavy Industries came here with a delivery, he would welcome them with red banners flying.

"Hah!" Seizing the moment when Yang Ce seemed distracted, the mole-faced bodyguard struck without warning. He meant to catch Yang Ce off guard—and it did indeed look as though he had caught him off guard.

Yang Ce was still standing there, unmoving, as if he had not reacted at all. The mole-faced bodyguard rejoiced inwardly: play the tough guy, then—serve you right. Catch you unprepared and take your life outright.

The mole-faced bodyguard's fist smashed toward Yang Juehuan's face with the full force of every ounce of strength he had. A blow like that would split a sandbag clean open.

So the mole-faced bodyguard seemed already to see Yang Ce's skull bursting, brains splattering everywhere, and a cruel smile crept onto the corner of his mouth. This, he had long since lost count, was yet another soul to die beneath his iron fist.

Ever since entering Yan Shoubao's employ, the mole-faced bodyguard had eliminated no small number of his rivals.

And the reason Yan Shoubao could now stand at the very top of Fenghuang City was precisely his ferocity and cruelty, and the two bodyguards at his side who killed without batting an eye.

"Eh?" The next instant, the mole-faced bodyguard sensed something was off. The distance between him and his mark was not that great; by all reason, his fist should already have landed on Yang Juehuan's head.

At that thought, the mole-faced bodyguard gave a violent start and came back to himself—only to find that although Yang Ce had not shifted his position, his head had somehow already tilted to one side.

His punch had missed entirely, sailing through the gap Yang Ce had opened up and striking nothing but air. Having failed to land a hit, the mole-faced bodyguard hurriedly tried to pull his hand back, for his body was leaning forward now, his center of gravity unsteady, his whole frame riddled with weaknesses. If Yang Ce struck at this moment, he was finished.

But could Yang Ce possibly not strike? Yang Ce watched the mole-faced bodyguard with a half-smile. "All right, I'm about to make my move. Do pay attention."

The mole-faced bodyguard nearly snorted smoke from his nostrils. Pay attention? In this posture, how was he supposed to pay attention? This warning was no better than empty words. But before he could even complain, Yang Ce had already struck.

Yang Ce lashed out with a kick that landed squarely between the mole-faced bodyguard's legs.

"Awoo—" The mole-faced bodyguard's voice shot up several octaves, like a music box wound too tight. His eyeballs bulged outward, his mouth stretched into an "O," and both hands clamped desperately over his crotch as he dropped to his knees, his whole body trembling uncontrollably.

Yang Ce of course knew just how heavy that kick of his had been. By the look of it, the mole-faced bodyguard was now more or less ready for a career in the palace.

"Oh, forgive me, I had no idea—so you're of the Crotch-Covering Sect. My apologies for the offense." Yang Ce spoke to the mole-faced bodyguard writhing in agony on the floor as though nothing at all had happened.

What strength did the mole-faced bodyguard have left to speak? And now, needled by Yang Puqi on top of it, his rage flared and his pain spiked; his eyes rolled back and he fainted dead away.

The little flesh that remained on Yan Shoubao's face twitched violently. He had not expected Yang Juehuan's methods to be so vicious. Looking at the sorry state of the mole-faced bodyguard on the floor, Yan Shoubao could not help breaking out in a cold sweat. How much must that hurt?

"Your turn now, isn't it?" Yang Ce pointed at the other bodyguard, the one with the fairer skin, and said, "Pretty boy, what sect are you from?"

The fair-skinned bodyguard who had been called a "kept boy" was speechless. He was merely a mixed-race man—how had he suddenly become a kept boy? But after Yang Ce's jab, the fair-skinned man did not speak at once; he simply waited quietly for Yan Shoubao's orders.