The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 163

The human body’s explosive power is immense. Even a weak person can summon unbelievable strength in a moment of crisis. But such bursts of energy can’t last forever.

Just like the cold-faced man at this moment—after unleashing dozens of punches with twelve times his usual force, his explosive power began to wane, and his lethality weakened.

Meanwhile, Jiang Fei had been on the defensive—or rather, on the receiving end—so his stamina depletion was far less severe. On top of that, his physique had been enhanced multiple times, now at 2.6 times that of an average adult. His endurance naturally far surpassed that of an ordinary person.

Having withstood the killer’s first onslaught, it was now his turn to counterattack.

“You’ve been beating on me for so long that my arms are numb. Now, it’s my turn, don’t you think?” A cold smirk curled at the corner of Jiang Fei’s lips as he stared at the killer, whose face remained as expressionless as ever—though his eyes betrayed a flicker of anxiety and tension.

The prolonged assault had failed to break Jiang Fei, and his endurance and resilience far exceeded the killer’s expectations. Frustration was inevitable. At the same time, the killer was utterly shocked—he never imagined Jiang Fei’s combat prowess would be this formidable!

The intel had never mentioned this. The man knew Tai Chi, and not just any Tai Chi—he was a master of it. His defense was impenetrable. Despite launching over thirty frenzied attacks, only one punch had landed on Jiang Fei’s shoulder. Every other strike had been blocked!

Boom!

As the killer’s fist came down again, Jiang Fei instantly executed a Tai Chi move—“Catching the Sparrow’s Tail.”

His right foot anchored, his left foot light, he applied the “Press” technique, adhering and following the motion. His right palm clamped onto the killer’s left wrist, then unleashed a horizontal force. The man lurched forward uncontrollably, stumbling three steps before regaining his balance.

The moment the killer turned around, Jiang Fei surged forward, fists raised high. A double-fisted strike—“Twin Peaks Piercing the Ears”—hammered into the killer’s chest. The blow, seemingly soft yet laced with hidden power, erupted upon impact like a raging flood. The killer’s body flew backward like a severed kite string, crashing to the ground.

But the cold-faced man was no pushover. Even as he lost his balance mid-air, instead of trying to dissipate the force, he seized the opportunity to kick out violently with both legs, aiming straight for Jiang Fei’s abdomen!

If that kick had connected, Jiang Fei wouldn’t have walked away unscathed—he’d likely have been sent flying, resulting in mutual destruction.

Yet Jiang Fei didn’t panic. His hands circled, forming a Tai Chi stance, and a tremendous force surged outward like a whirlpool, slamming into the killer’s legs. Tai Chi may emphasize softness overcoming hardness, but it also carries hidden strength.

After being pummeled for so long, Jiang Fei had built up a reservoir of fury. The energy he unleashed now was nothing to scoff at.

Bang!

Jiang Fei only took two steps back, while the killer was sent flying several meters before crashing onto the asphalt road. Though the ground didn’t crack, the impact sounded bone-chilling—enough to make bystanders wince in sympathy. The killer himself was seriously injured.

“Hmph!” The killer grunted, his throat convulsing. The metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils, but he forced it down, swallowing hard before springing back up like a carp leaping from water.

His eyes locked onto Jiang Fei with grave intensity. Today, he had not only kicked an iron plate—he was outmatched. This man’s Tai Chi mastery was terrifying, his strength overwhelming, and his speed unmatched!

As Jiang Fei closed the distance with “Threefold Cloud Steps,” the killer tried to brace for a counterattack—only to realize, to his horror, that his arms had gone limp!

“What’s happening?” He glanced down and saw a slender silver needle embedded in his armpit.

Then it hit him—his target today was a renowned young doctor, hailed as the “King of Acupuncture.” If this man could heal with needles, killing with them wouldn’t be hard either.

Swish!

Without hesitation, the killer yanked the needle out. But even then, his arms remained weak and useless.

In this state, facing Jiang Fei was suicide.

Jiang Fei was almost upon him, no longer in a Tai Chi stance—instead, he held another long silver needle. In the right spots—throat, eyes, vital acupoints—such a needle could be as deadly as a blade.

But just as he was about to strike—

Jiang Fei’s expression twisted, just like when the killer had ambushed him earlier. Only this time, his face darkened further. He abandoned his attack on the killer and threw himself sideways without a second thought.

Bang!

A bullet embedded itself into a bridge pillar, sending stone fragments flying.

“Damn it! There’s a sniper!” Jiang Fei’s fury and shock reached their peak. Who held such a deep grudge against him? To go this far—hiring not just an elite killer but also a gunman!

This wasn’t just excessive—it was insane.

In a country where even kitchen knives were regulated, gun violence was unthinkable. Most people never even saw a real gun in their lifetime.

People like Gao Hengyuan or Li Jirong might hire thugs to rough him up—like the brick-wielding men earlier—but they’d never dare arrange an assassination in broad daylight.

Especially not with a superstar like Qiao Yiyi present. If anything happened to her, it would make national headlines.

No, this cold-faced killer and the hidden sniper weren’t with the thugs. Their real target had always been Jiang Fei. The thugs were just a smokescreen.

Jiang Fei’s mind raced, but he forced himself to focus. Like a nimble cat, he rolled to his feet and scanned for cover.

Staying in the open meant certain death. Even with his “Threefold Cloud Steps,” he’d just be a moving target.

The initial killer had already retreated under his comrade’s covering fire. Jiang Fei’s eyes darted around—there were plenty of hiding spots, like the bridge pillars. If he made it there, escape would be easy.

But he couldn’t just flee.

Qiao Yiyi was still standing there, frozen in shock.

She was defenseless. If he abandoned her, what if the killers turned their guns on her?

Even if their target was him, Jiang Fei couldn’t take that risk.

These killers had no morals. If they dared shoot in public, killing a celebrity wouldn’t faze them.

As a man, he couldn’t leave her behind.

Bang! BANG!

Jiang Fei zigzagged like a phantom, his feet barely touching the ground before leaping again. Every time he moved, a bullet struck where he’d just been.

The sniper was a marksman. If not for Jiang Fei’s agility and “Threefold Cloud Steps,” he’d already be full of holes.

After two dodges, Jiang Fei pinpointed the shooter—about twenty meters away, near a garden with a black car parked beside it.

“Jiang Fei, RUN!” Qiao Yiyi suddenly screamed, her voice piercing like a soprano’s high note.

Then, to his horror, she sprinted toward the thugs’ van—thinking they were the ones with the gun.

She was trying to draw fire away from him.

“Get lost, you crazy woman!” The fat leader and another man, who had just loaded their unconscious comrades into the van, shoved her aside and sped off in panic.

Now, Qiao Yiyi was exposed.

Jiang Fei saw the sniper hesitate, then grin cruelly as he shifted his aim toward her.

“IDIOT! GET DOWN!” Jiang Fei roared, lunging at her with every ounce of speed he had.

BANG!

He yanked her into his arms, tackling her behind the BMW just as the bullet whizzed past.

“Are you okay?” he gasped.

Qiao Yiyi nodded shakily, then paled when she saw Jiang Fei clutching his shoulder.

“You—you’ve been shot!”