Chapter Fifteen: Fate and Destiny
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Shoulders sunk, elbows dropped, waist relaxed, hips settled.
Song Ren drew back his fists, his eyes narrowing into a sharp, clear gaze.
With a calm voice, as if speaking to himself, yet clear enough for everyone present to hear distinctly:
“Life and death are fate…”
The group led by Fat Dog involuntarily paused when facing this momentary Song Ren.
One by one, their throats seemed blocked, Adam’s apples bobbing as they swallowed hard.
Fat Dog gripped the table leg tighter, his eyes narrowing fiercely, a brutal expression flashing across his face:
“Damn it, there are so many of us; each of us will take down a table leg.”
“He’s just one man, bare-handed. What the hell are we afraid of?”
With that, he raised the table leg threateningly, pointing it at Song Ren, his face swollen with rage:
“You bastard, trying to intimidate me? Do you think I’m scared just because you say so?”
The others, stirred by this tone, found courage from the pressure Song Ren emitted, gradually regaining their usual viciousness from their gang days, raising their solid wooden table legs to encircle him.
Each silently steeled themselves: This isn’t a movie scene. Eight against one—there’s no reason to fear the other side.
Song Ren glanced left and right, then took the initiative to step forward, charging first at the fiercest Fat Dog.
Among the wooden legs in their hands, only Fat Dog’s was stained with blood.
Likes to play dirty, huh…
Song Ren used his shoulder to push aside one of the table legs swung at him, turned his head to dodge another, and with his right hand, seized one man’s wrist.
Using the momentum, he made the table leg in that hand deflect the others striking from the right one by one.
At the same time, a sharp pain flared at his waist and hips, struck by a table leg at a cunning angle.
Yet Song Ren’s expression remained icy cold, unmoved.
Instead, he swung up his left arm, pulling his shoulder down, twisting his body, his clenched fist arching high.
The arm he had grabbed was pulled straight in front of him, the hoof-shaped mark on his back burning fiercely.
Shoulder and elbow power!
A cannon punch!
His pale knuckles slammed into the opponent’s outer elbow like an unrelenting iron hammer.
Crack!
A crisp sound of bone breaking, his right arm snapped inward from the elbow.
Elbow joint shattered, muscles severely strained!
The man momentarily stunned, then suddenly dropped the table leg, clutching his bent arm in agony, arching his back while screaming hoarsely.
His cries were pitiful and agonizing, sure to attract the attention of the patrolling prison guards outside.
Song Ren didn’t pause, stepping back half a pace, using his elbow to shove away another table leg.
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His foot collided with one man’s lower body from the side and rear; as the man lost balance, Song Ren executed a clean shoulder throw.
He smashed aside all the table legs coming at him, simultaneously knocking down the two men closest to the front.
Song Ren’s eyes darted quickly left and right, then twisted his waist and spine like a great dragon, delivering a fierce spinning kick to an unsuspecting man’s side face.
Leaving a deep shoe print, he sent the man tumbling heavily to the ground.
He stepped back two more paces, seeming to evade, but in the next moment, surged forward suddenly.
Raising his arm, he used his forearm to forcibly block a descending table leg, ignoring the sharp pain, then delivered a flying knee strike directly to Fat Dog’s face.
Fat Dog’s back of the head slammed against the wall beside the restroom; the knee and his nose were pressed so closely there was no gap.
The delicate nasal bone shattered, two large front teeth were knocked out instantly.
Bright red blood splattered all over his face.
Whoosh!
A gust of wind swept by.
At that moment, a table leg came crashing down straight toward Song Ren’s head.
He landed his flying knee, ignoring Fat Dog’s miserable howls, and caught the fierce table leg swung at him.
At the same time, another table leg was striking directly at the back of his head.
Song Ren caught it with his peripheral vision, ducked low to avoid, twisted his body, and swept a leg, knocking the man whose leg he held to the ground.
Leaning forward, he drove his knee forcefully into the man’s abdomen.
Crack!
The angle was perfect—at least three ribs cracked.
By then, his eyes caught the flicker of a baton’s shadow.
Song Ren twisted his body backward to dodge the strike, simultaneously planting his hands on the ground to flip himself up.
The remaining men, long hardened by gang fights and now spurred by the blood and screams, forgot their fear and pain, instinctively charging at him.
Song Ren stepped back half a pace, grabbed a table leg swung at him, and with momentum, twisted his waist and back, striking the side of an opponent’s abdomen with his heel.
The man flew back, crashing into two others nearby, but Song Ren’s shoulder took a harsh blow.
The pain was sharp but not enough to halt him; it only stoked the fierce rage deep in his bones.
Internal breath trained, muscles and skin strengthened.
The ferocity inside Song Ren surged like a raging flood; the hoof-shaped mark on his back burned through his clothes as if aflame.
Stepping forward, Song Ren unleashed a dazzling, relentless assault!
Horse stance, charging punch!
A fist struck under a man’s armpit, causing his grip on the table leg to loosen and drop it.
Song Ren seized the moment, his arm whipping upward.
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A table leg lashed across the man’s cheek, distorting the flesh, twisting his face painfully tight. Blood and foam spewed from his mouth, scattering three large yellowed teeth.
Then, with another swing, Song Ren cleared the other two table legs, twisted his body, swept one opponent’s leg aside, flipped around, and with the power branded by the hoof mark, struck another man’s shoulder fiercely.
The brutal force made the man feel as if his shoulder bone shattered.
He slammed violently against the wall, clutching his shoulder and wailing miserably.
Fat Dog, face soaked in blood, charged wildly forward, pain driving him mad, fear forgotten.
His raised table leg aimed straight at Song Ren’s temple!
“Damn you, die!”
Bang!
The violent strike landed on Song Ren’s cold left palm.
The fiery sting only excited him further. In front of Fat Dog, he raised the table leg in his right hand:
“Life and death are fate—”
At that instant, Fat Dog’s eyes suddenly filled with raw terror.
He threw down his table leg and covered his head with both hands.
Song Ren’s trailing words were swallowed by the blood-red air:
“Fortune is in Heaven’s hands!”
The hoof-marked strike!
Boom!!!
The blow knocked Fat Dog’s hands aside, twisting his fingers grotesquely, fingertips bursting.
Blood spattered atop his head, staining the wall and table legs like a mournful flower.
His eyes rolled back fully, blood streaming down his forehead.
After staggering, he collapsed straight to the ground.
At this moment, among the eight men ambushed in the restroom, only two remained standing; the rest were either seriously injured or unconscious.
The two seemed stunned stiff, shivering, then suddenly dashed madly toward the door.
They collided with a man rushing in—Qiu Gang’ao, who sensed the danger immediately.
Behind him were a dozen or so prison guards arriving in response.
As soon as they burst into the restroom, the chaotic scene shocked them.
Prisoners lay scattered, wailing in pain.
Blood splattered, teeth strewn about, twisted limbs, and Fat Dog knelt stiffly, a small pool of blood beneath him.
The savage scene pierced their very souls with dread.