Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups-Chapter 330 - 226

The Old Factory Street under the veil of night.

The food stalls along the street are bustling, pots clattering and smoke spiraling.

Electric bikes and cars weave in and out, horns honking incessantly.

Many workers returning to East Capital for the New Year are gradually coming back, bringing renewed vitality to this dilapidated street.

This also includes some who are up to no good, the presence of some gang members.

These people move in small groups, arms draped over each other, laughing and joking, occasionally spouting vulgar profanities.

Sometimes, a disagreement would lead to one grabbing a stool from a food stall and rushing at the other, resulting in a chaotic brawl that makes passersby stop and watch.

Lin Fusheng’s Clinic.

Warm yellow light spills through the glass door, along with a burst of noisy chatter.

A man in a gray trench coat and glasses weaves through the bustling crowd outside, pushing the door open.

A pungent smell of herbal wine hits him immediately.

A number of bruised and battered thugs are gathered there, making the already cramped space feel more claustrophobic.

A quick glance reveals most have light injuries like dislocated joints, a few unlucky ones have stab wounds, which have been bandaged.

Due to a shortage of beds, some are sitting on chairs, others simply lying on the floor, groaning and waiting for treatment.

Master Lin, wearing reading glasses, dips his fingers in medicinal liquor, patiently applying it to an injured person, massaging skillfully while softly reminding them of precautions.

A woman in her thirties, graceful yet efficient, is busy serving tea and water with her adorable and clever little girl, attending to guests enthusiastically.

Another young man, dressed plainly, handsome and gentle, stands before a treatment bed, fully focused on performing a bone-setting procedure.

The seemingly chaotic scene paradoxically makes this place feel like a peaceful haven in the turbulent world.

The man calmly surveys the scene before choosing a seat near the door, quietly waiting.

His entrance goes largely unnoticed.

The surrounding shouts and clamor continue, discussing topics taboo to ordinary people.

"Hey, what do you kids know?" frёewebnoѵēl.com

A thug suddenly raises his voice, breaking through the noisy atmosphere.

He leans sideways on the bed, a cigarette butt dangling from his lips:

"Why is Jiangbei so chaotic lately? It’s because someone mysterious and ruthless from here stirred up the Red Tiger Gang and the East City Association, causing them heavy casualties, making them flee with their tails between their legs."

"Now without big gangs to hold the ground, the small fry from other areas are running around like headless chickens, fighting for territory over petty gains. I reckon these streets won’t be peaceful for the next six months."

He speaks in a raspy voice with a strong local accent, inhaling sharply between words.

His jacket is covered in dust and bloodstains, and his face is bruised and swollen.

However, he recounts the tales of street battles nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t involved at all.

"Is that assassin really so formidable, taking down big gangs alone?"

A thug with a foreign accent can’t help but ask, clearly intrigued.

"Hehe, of course, he’s a renowned hero in Jiangbei. Anyone causing trouble here, he’s the one who takes them down!"

The thug with the cigarette raises a thumb, his face showing an inexplicable pride as if he has some significant connection with the assassin.

"Those Red Tiger Gang bastards, acting all superior, collecting protection money with ease, walking with swagger, not considering anyone in their eyes."

"The result? Several of their big bosses were taken down by the assassin, their bodies tossed on the street like ragged bags, entrails spilling everywhere; it was a scene, tsk tsk tsk, the stench would make anyone throw up their dinner from the night before!"

As he says this, he pauses, takes a deep drag of his cigarette, his gaze carrying a hint of warning.

"So, I kindly advise you to keep a low profile."

"As they say, the bird that sticks its head out gets shot. You can’t flaunt yourself too much in the martial world, or you’ll end up with your head twisted off like a chick one day, crying with nowhere to cry!"

He mimics slitting his throat, his gaze sweeping fiercely over the crowd of thugs.

Seeing the fear on their faces, he smirks, nodding in satisfaction.

He looks like a seasoned master in Jiangbei, teaching his survival secrets.

The others’ eyes widen like saucers, mouths agape, almost drooling:

"Is it really that intense? Bro, are you just talking nonsense, did you really see it yourself?"

"You think I’d lie to you?"

The cigarette thug, hearing this, is like a firecracker ignited, "pfft," spitting out the spent cigarette butt.

Then he uses his uninjured hand to pat his chest, trying to stand tall with pride, but pulls at a wound, wincing in pain:

"Just the other night, I was wandering around West Street corner when I saw a shadow whiz by, quick like a ghost, I almost couldn’t keep up with my eyes."

"Curiosity got the better of me, so I sneaked behind, not far away I saw a group of Red Tiger Gang experts surrounding one person, I thought there was going to be a good show."

"The outcome? In the blink of an eye, that assassin moved like he was powered up, dismantling those bastards in three punches and two kicks, turning them into a pile of minced meat, his skills are incredible! It nearly left me dumbfounded..."