Chapter 19: The Serpent Blade Technique

Abao mingled among the crowd, his hand gripping a gleaming machete, eyes fixed fiercely on Chen Erpao, always waiting for a chance to take revenge or rise to prominence through this battle, to make a name for himself in Tuen Mun District. Having suffered once before, he was now much more cautious. Seeing Chen Erpao barely able to defend himself amid the throng, the situation more perilous than before, Abao seized an opportune moment, rushed forward, raised his blade high above his head, and slashed with full force at Chen Erpao’s side.

At that moment, Chen Erpao was desperately fending off almost ten blades in front of him and around, when suddenly a sharp gust of wind swept in from his left. Sensing danger, he tried to block in haste, but the enemies before him pressed on relentlessly, their blades crossing and falling again and again with loud shouts.

Chen Erpao exerted himself further, and the steel pipe in his hand, already full of nicks and dents, was swung with such force that it sent a stinging gust across their faces, smashing towards the blades before him.

With a clang, the first two machetes struck were sent flying in an instant, and the remaining ones were battered far off as well. Seizing a few precious seconds, Chen Erpao immediately darted aside with all his strength.

Abao’s eyes were alight with the joy of success, watching his blade descend upon Chen Erpao. Yet the next moment did not unfold as he had imagined; Chen Erpao did not die beneath his blade. At the critical moment, Chen Erpao evaded the fatal blow, but his left forearm still suffered a gash ten centimeters long.

Looking at the blood streaming down his arm, Chen Erpao’s face showed not a trace of pain; instead, his eyes grew ever more bloodthirsty. The veins on his hand bulged, like dragons struggling against their bonds. The steel pipe in his grip was no longer an ordinary object—it became a fearsome weapon of a demon god.

Chen Erpao took a powerful stride, landing before Abao in a flash, and the steel pipe left blurring afterimages as it smashed down onto Abao’s left shoulder.

Abao’s agonized scream resounded, his entire left shoulder collapsing instantly, the sound of bone breaking mingling with his cries.

With a gust, a steel pipe attacked from behind, landing heavily on Chen Erpao’s back, but he did not so much as tremble. He turned, his cold, bloodthirsty gaze locking onto the tattooed man before him.

“Lie down for me!” Chen Erpao swung the steel pipe in a sweeping arc, smashing it into the man’s face. Instantly, his nose broke and teeth flew.

By now, more than a dozen lay on the ground. Chen Erpao’s icy gaze swept over those before him, and for a moment, those who had been shouting fiercely now froze in place, not daring to advance.

On the second floor of the mall, by the window, stood a graceful figure—Wang Xuemei. Her palms were already damp with cold sweat. She had watched every bloody scene below, never once closing her eyes. From the moment she ascended the stairs, she had called the police countless times, but so far, not even a single patrol car or officer had appeared. Many times, she had wanted to rush down, but always restrained herself, believing he would come for her.

Downstairs, the clamor and shouts of battle suddenly gave way to a terrifying silence.

Inside a car, Curly, who was entangled with a voluptuous woman, sensed something amiss outside. Ignoring the unsatisfied look on the woman beneath him, he hurriedly pulled up his trousers and stepped out.

Curly’s composed expression was replaced with astonishment as he surveyed the scene. Dozens had besieged one man, yet nearly twenty lay fallen, while the lone opponent suffered only minor wounds. Though Curly was Tuen Mun’s top enforcer, famed for his ferocious blade work, his greatest confidence was in handling seven or eight foes at once; dealing with dozens was a different matter entirely.

Chen Erpao’s incredible combat prowess both intimidated and enraged him. He knew he could not let him go—otherwise, he would be leaving a ticking time bomb behind.

“Whoever kills him, I’ll make him a boss! Money, women, all waiting for you! Go chop him!” Curly yelled, his temptations egging on his underlings.

“Damn it, if I kill him, I’ll be the boss—no one will dare look down on me again!” A scrawny thug, tattoos of a green dragon on the left and a white tiger on the right, eyes blazing, rushed at Chen Erpao with reckless abandon.

Chen Erpao, whose strength had nearly run out, recovered much of his stamina during the brief lull. Facing the renewed onslaught, he let a cold smile curl at his lips, sending chills through those watching.

Once, when confronting ruthless drug dealers who killed without blinking, he had employed the most effective, savage, and deadly combat skills—now, he unleashed them again, though this time against street thugs.

No flourish, no complex maneuvers, no grand spectacle—just a simple move, bringing forth screams of agony like pigs being slaughtered. Though Chen Erpao executed these lethal techniques, he did not intend to kill, but he made them pay a heavy price.

Each killing technique was simple and direct, but demanded several times the focus and force of ordinary attacks. As more fell, Chen Erpao’s body grew steadily weaker.

Not far away, Curly noticed Chen Erpao’s declining stamina, and with a cold smile, swiftly drew a razor-sharp, gleaming dagger from his waist.

“This blade has been with me nearly ten years, stained with the blood of dozens. Today, let’s see how you taste!” Curly grinned madly, immediately charging forward.

Curly’s blade skills were far superior to the chaotic swings of other thugs, worthy of his reputation as Tuen Mun’s top enforcer.

“Let me show you my self-created Viper Blade Technique!” Curly sneered, his dagger darting like a nimble, slender viper, weaving left and right, always launching sudden fierce attacks.

Had Chen Erpao been at his peak, such attacks would have posed little threat. But now, his stamina and focus were halved, and with a dozen still attacking from all sides, Curly’s Viper Blade Technique endangered him more and more with each strike.

“Viper’s Tail Whip!” Curly’s assault grew fiercer. Suddenly, with a shout, he spun three hundred sixty degrees, closing in on Chen Erpao, his dagger swinging with unstoppable force.

Chen Erpao hurriedly blocked with his steel pipe—a clang rang out, and he nearly lost his balance, retreating several steps. Then, a storm of blades descended upon him from behind. Even with all his strength, he could not avoid being left with several shocking wounds.