Returning after 10000 Years Cultivation - Chapter 71

“So, this is what the world truly looks like. I really was a frog at the bottom of a well!”

Lu Biyao sat behind Liu Jinrong and the others, her vision spinning, her face deathly pale—yet her eyes burned with excitement.

“I never imagined Japanese karate could be so powerful!” Ye Gufeng remarked in astonishment.

Behind him, Old Qiu leaned in and explained, “Master Feng, this is ancient karate, also known as ‘Tang Hand.’ It evolved from the striking techniques passed down from China’s Tang Dynasty to Japan. Far beyond ordinary combat sports, its lethality is terrifying.”

“Oh?”

“If mastered to the extreme, it can generate Qi—even rivaling a Transformation Realm grandmaster!” Old Qiu said.

“If you faced him, how would you fare?” Ye Gufeng asked with a faint smile.

“If I fought him, I could kill him within ten moves.” Old Qiu straightened his back, his face brimming with pride.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The sounds of fists and feet clashing filled the air as the battle between Kameda Murao and Li Zhenwei on the stage reached its peak.

Suddenly, Li Zhenwei threw a punch—and in midair, seven or eight overlapping afterimages appeared.

Unable to block them all, Kameda Murao let out a pained cry as he was sent flying off the stage, blood spraying from his mouth.

“Grandmaster Li won!” Zhou Zhenghao cheered excitedly.

Long Wu gave a slight nod of approval and cupped his hands in respect. “Master Li, well fought!”

But on the stage, Li Zhenwei only managed a strained smile, wiping cold sweat from his brow. “That Kameda Murao was strong. If not for Master Jiang’s guidance, my old skills would never have been enough to defeat him.”

“Damn it! You only won by luck! What’s so impressive about that?” Liu Zikun cursed furiously.

“Ah Kun, don’t be disrespectful. If you lose, you admit defeat.”

Ye Gufeng shot him a sharp look before calmly declaring, “From now on, the Sweetwater Town market belongs to Brother Long Wu and Xiao Zhou.”

“Haha, sweet!” Zhou Zhenghao was overjoyed. This was a major windfall—they were going to make a fortune.

“With such mediocre skills, you dare call yourselves experts? Jiangbei truly has no real fighters!”

A mocking voice suddenly cut through the air. Yang Kunpeng shook his head in disdain, a sneer on his face.

His words were an insult to the entire Jiangbei martial arts community.

“Yang Kunpeng, you talk big! Weren’t you supposed to bring some ‘overseas expert’? Where is he?”

Liu Zikun immediately redirected his anger toward Yang Kunpeng.

“Yeah, those big guys behind you are just ex-special forces or martial arts athletes. How can they compare to our Grandmaster Li Zhenwei?” Zhou Zhenghao scoffed.

“Heh, the expert I invited is far beyond trash like Li Zhenwei.”

Yang Kunpeng slammed the table and stood up, raising his hands toward the sky in salute.

“We respectfully invite Grandmaster Xing Shanhu!”

“We respectfully invite Grandmaster Xing Shanhu!”

“We respectfully invite Grandmaster Xing Shanhu!”

The dozen or so tycoons and bodyguards behind him echoed in unison, their faces filled with reverence.

The crowd turned in shock—only to realize that a helicopter had silently arrived, now hovering a hundred meters above them.

“He brought his expert by helicopter?” Gasps of disbelief spread through the crowd.

The helicopter door slid open, revealing a tall, imposing figure—though the distance made his features unclear.

“What’s he doing? Why isn’t he lowering a ladder?” Confused murmurs rose from the deck.

At that moment—

The figure leaped out.

From a hundred meters in the air, he simply jumped down.

BOOM!

A deafening crash shook the entire yacht. The arena trembled violently as dust and splinters exploded outward.

“Hah! Yang Kunpeng, did your expert just commit suicide?” Liu Zikun burst into laughter.

Yang Kunpeng didn’t even glance at him, his eyes fixed eagerly on the stage.

Then—Old Qiu suddenly shouted, “He’s alive!”

As the dust settled, a towering figure stood unharmed at the center of the arena.

He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, his muscular frame clad in a traditional martial arts uniform.

“Is this even human?!”

The crowd was stunned. Jumping from a hundred meters without a parachute—and surviving? How monstrously strong was his body?!

Li Zhenwei’s face turned ashen. “A hundred-meter freefall… He must have reached the Transformation Realm!”

Only a grandmaster who could condense protective Qi would survive such a fall unscathed.

“I’ll test Grandmaster Li’s skills!”

Xing Shanhu smirked, his voice booming.

From the stands, Yang Kunpeng glared at Long Wu. “Brother Long, if you lose, Linzhou’s territory is mine. If I lose, you get Jing’an District in Zhonghai!”

“This is bad… Where’s Master Jiang?”

“Master Jiang said his wife couldn’t stand bloody scenes, so they went gambling instead!”

Long Wu and Zhou Zhenghao paled. They hadn’t expected Yang Kunpeng’s expert to be this overwhelmingly powerful.

The arena rules were clear: if challenged, you had to fight. Refusal meant surrender.

“After you!” Li Zhenwei clasped his fists, steeling himself. Though intimidated, his warrior’s spirit flared.

“You first.” Xing Shanhu stood with his hands behind his back, utterly relaxed.

Enraged, Li Zhenwei roared and charged, his fist aimed straight for Xing Shanhu’s chest.

As one of the top three martial artists in Lingnan, how could he tolerate such disrespect?

His punch carried explosive internal force—this was the Eightfold Wave Fist Jiang Tian had taught him.

“Hmm, Li Zhenwei’s using a secret technique. This punch rivals an early-stage Transformation Realm expert!” Old Qiu nodded approvingly.

Ye Gufeng’s gaze sharpened as he watched Xing Shanhu.

Just as Li Zhenwei closed in—

WHIP!

Xing Shanhu’s leg lashed out like a steel whip, striking Li Zhenwei’s neck.

THUD!

Li Zhenwei was sent flying, blood spraying from his mouth before he crashed to the ground, unconscious.

One kick.

That was all it took.

Zhou Zhenghao shot to his feet. “Grandmaster Li… lost?!”

“It seems Xing Shanhu is even stronger than Fu Biao.” Long Wu’s face was drained of color.

“Haha! Long Wu, a bet’s a bet. Linzhou is mine now!” Yang Kunpeng laughed triumphantly.

Long Wu clenched his teeth and nodded reluctantly.

Zhou Zhenghao slumped into his chair, muttering, “If only Master Jiang were here…”

“He only used 30% of his strength. He likely held back to recruit Li Zhenwei,” Old Qiu said grimly. “At full power, Li Zhenwei would be dead.”

Ye Gufeng was still processing this when—

Xing Shanhu scanned the crowd and bellowed, “WHO ELSE DARES TO FIGHT ME?!”

Silence.

Who would dare face a man who could survive a hundred-meter fall and defeat Li Zhenwei in one move?

“No one? Then from today onward, the three cities of Jiangbei—OBEY MY COMMANDS!”

Yang Kunpeng stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Ye Gufeng.

All eyes turned to the undisputed leader of Jiangbei.

With a sigh, Ye Gufeng said, “Old Qiu… it seems you must step in.”

Old Qiu bowed solemnly. “Master Ye, you’ve sheltered me for years. Today, even if it costs my life, I’ll defeat him!”

With that, he leaped into the air, flipping gracefully before landing on the arena.

“Bravo!”

“Incredible!”

Cheers erupted.

Lu Biyao’s eyes sparkled. “This old man looks sixty with silver hair, yet he moves like that? Amazing!”

“Oh?” For the first time, Xing Shanhu’s expression shifted slightly.

“Peak Internal Force—impressive for your level.”

“Your footwork resembles the Great Ape Fist of the Yuan Family. What’s your relation to Yuan Rusong?”

Old Qiu stiffened. “You know our family’s patriarch?”

The Yuan Family had once been a prestigious martial arts clan—until twenty years ago, when they offended the Big Circle Gang, the most powerful overseas Chinese syndicate. The Yuan Family was annihilated by Big Circle’s top enforcer, Lin Zhenyu.

Only Old Qiu, severely wounded, escaped and was taken in by Ye Gufeng, becoming his top subordinate.

But few knew this history—and even fewer recognized his Great Ape Fist.

“Twenty years ago, I visited China and met Yuan Rusong. He was killed by my master.”

“Impossible!” Old Qiu’s voice trembled. “Who… is your master?”

“Lin Zhenyu… of the Big Circle Gang.”

The moment those words were spoken, the crowd erupted in shock.

Many might not know Lin Zhenyu’s name—but everyone knew the Big Circle Gang.

Founded in the 1960s, the Big Circle Gang spanned half a century, boasting tens of thousands of members, branches worldwide, and immeasurable wealth.

Compared to this global syndicate, Jiangbei’s local bosses were nothing. Even Ye Gufeng, the strongest in Donghai, was insignificant in their shadow.

Someone suddenly gasped. “Xing Shanhu… he’s ‘Tiger Lord’ from Las Vegas!”

“My God! The Tiger Lord of Las Vegas?!”

Those familiar with the Big Circle Gang paled.

This “Tiger Lord” was a legend in the overseas Chinese underworld, owning luxury casinos and hotels in Las Vegas and New York.

Ruthless and peerlessly skilled, even the Italian Mafia avoided crossing him.

How could Jiangbei’s small-time bosses compare to an international heavyweight like him?

“So, you’re Lin Zhenyu’s disciple…” Old Qiu’s face twisted in horror.