Chapter 22: The Reckless Brute

Outside the prison yard, the patrolling guards noticed the scene and instantly grew tense beyond measure.

A riot of this scale was far beyond what a dozen or so guards could contain.

One guard blew his whistle to warn those inside, while striking the outer wire fence with his baton, sternly ordering the inmates to disperse immediately.

Others grabbed their radios, calling for backup outside.

Inside the prison yard, the standoff between about seventy inmates grew increasingly charged, the atmosphere on the verge of eruption.

Aji stepped forward through the crowd.

He fixed his cold, hard gaze on the man at the front—Song Ren—and raised an eyebrow.

“You little bastard, how dare you mess with our Loyalty and Trust gang.”

“If I let you walk away safely today, I’ll snap my own head off and kick it around like a ball!”

“Don’t be ridiculous; I’m not that twisted,” Song Ren chuckled softly.

Without further ado, he beckoned to Aji with a slight wave of his hand. “Come.”

A shadow crossed Aji’s face. Faced with such a casual gesture, he no longer wished to hold back.

The impulse he’d suppressed for so long now overwhelmed all reason.

Getting out tomorrow?

Not a chance!

He was going to beat him to death right now!

Aji struck first, and over forty gang members surged forward like they’d been given a command, howling as they charged en masse.

“To hell with you, Snake Ziming! I’m coming to kill you!”

“You bunch of bastards! Damn your families!”

“Aren’t you a son of a bitch, A-Ren!”

The scene was like a pack of sharks smelling blood—wild and brutal!

Song Ren remained calm, turning to Qiu Gang’ao with a raised brow and a smile. “So, scared?”

Qiu Gang’ao’s eyes gleamed brightly. “Honestly, Brother Ren, it’s been pretty dull lately. Now, I’m actually a bit excited.”

Song Ren gave a noncommittal smile, then looked back at Snake Ziming and the other twenty or so, asking, “How’s it feel, being sworn in as my men on your first day?”

Fierce light blazed in Snake Ziming’s eyes.

A fighter like Fei Zai, who dared speak out, was no coward.

Even facing twice their numbers, he showed no fear, glaring and shouting, “Brother Ren, this is thrilling!”

Song Ren patted his shoulder, cautioning, “Don’t get too excited.”

“You only need to hold on for a little while longer. Leave the rest to me.”

With that, he led the charge.

At first, Snake Ziming didn’t quite grasp what Brother Ren meant.

Only when Song Ren struck did he draw a deep breath.

---

At that moment, as the torrent of men surged toward him, Song Ren’s eyes burned like blazing fire—intense and bright.

Martial arts training… what was it for?

To strengthen the body?

Don’t make me laugh—I’d rather do calisthenics!

In ancient times, martial arts were practiced to defend one’s homeland, to uphold justice, to vanquish evil…

And also to become the strongest under heaven!

To Song Ren, martial arts meant forging muscles, pushing the body’s limits.

Even against millions—

I shall advance!

Leading the charge, Song Ren plunged headlong into the surge of more than forty men.

So reckless it sent chills down the spine.

With such a fearless leader taking the forefront, the twenty newly sworn-in fighters all ignited with enthusiasm.

They admired the relentless spirit Song Ren had displayed in his previous two fights, that ferocious, unstoppable strength.

When the boss leads the charge, how could the underlings be afraid?

Qiu Gang’ao felt his blood surge, his long-suppressed restlessness stirring anew.

A fierce clash involving over seventy inmates erupted suddenly.

---

Song Ren stabbed straight into the crowd, closing in, swiftly ducking a punch.

He leaned forward, arms extended like a drawn bow, shoulder blades arched like a high bridge.

The hoof-shaped mark on his spine blazed hotter than ever, a surge of power coursing through every limb and joint.

A punch!

Thud!

The thug opposite crashed into two men behind him, clutching his belly as he dropped to his knees, curling up like a shrimp, foaming at the mouth.

Next, a storm of fists erupted all around, interspersed with glints of cold steel.

Inmates had smuggled out improvised weapons: screwdrivers stolen from the guards, sharpened toothbrushes, even small files.

All sorts of illicit, homemade weapons now surged toward Song Ren.

He braced one hand on the ground, sidestepping several strikes.

But something sliced open his prison uniform at the waist.

A faint streak of blood appeared.

A murderous light flared in Song Ren’s eyes.

---

Like a tiger or leopard, he advanced instead of retreating.

He lunged forward, locking one arm firmly around an opponent’s, then delivered a powerful side kick that sent three or four men tumbling.

Seizing the moment, he twisted his body to evade another group attack.

The locked arm jerked downward, his raised knee smashing into the attacker’s abdomen.

Crack!

The man’s sternum shattered; he collapsed in agony, fainting.

Song Ren stepped back half a pace, preparing to counterattack.

Suddenly, a flying kick struck his shoulder.

He staggered to one side.

An inmate seized the chance, brandishing a file from a hidden angle, aiming straight for Song Ren’s kidney.

At the last moment, Song Ren grasped the file barehanded.

The sharpened file cut into his palm, blood dripping drop by drop.

Song Ren’s gaze darkened as he lifted his leg, sweeping out the attacker’s unstable footing, then flicked his heel upward.

Nothing came of the attack.

The inmate’s eyes nearly popped out; he squeezed his legs together, face contorted in pain.

Finally, he collapsed onto his knees, face pale as death.

Song Ren flipped his wrist, gripping the file by the handle in reverse, and swung fiercely.

The sharpened tip pierced straight through a man’s cheek, stabbing deep into his mouth, even puncturing his tongue.

The man froze, trembling all over, clutching his face and howling in agony.

The grisly scene stunned the charging inmates.

A chill ran through them, and they hesitated.

Taking advantage of the moment, Song Ren brushed away a foot that had stamped on his shoulder, then glanced toward Aji, who stood with his head lowered, scowling and staring at him with dark eyes.

Aji waved his hand coldly. “Leave him to me. You all step aside.”

Song Ren noticed the small pipe knife clenched in Aji’s hand, clicked his tongue, and shook his head slightly.

The surrounding inmates instinctively cleared some space between the two.

Aji stepped forward half a pace, one hand gripping the pipe knife, the other raised loosely.

Song Ren composed himself, erasing all unnecessary expression, and strode straight toward Aji.

Aji frowned. This guy—

So calm it’s terrifying!