"What's with that look? Why are you pulling a face like you just ate shit?"
Qin Yanyan glanced at Zhou Kun, then suddenly lashed out with a palm strike that instantly reduced Zhou Kun's right leg to a mist of blood. Zhou Kun let out a miserable shriek and began rolling around on the ground in agony. As for the two maids who had been giving Qin Yanyan a massage, they could no longer bear the sight, let alone stay—screaming in terror, they bolted out of the room.
Qin Yanyan generally didn't kill women, so he didn't bother giving chase. Silently, he reached out, picked up the cigarette pack from the coffee table, pulled out a cigar, lit it, and smoked in quiet contemplation.
Before long, whether because he had bled so much or simply run dry, the wounds on the writhing Zhou Kun began to coagulate. Gritting his teeth, he glared at Qin Yanyan with a vicious intensity; if looks could kill, Qin Yanyan would have died a thousand times over.
At last, another half-hour passed. A group of men dressed in black strode into the villa's living room. The man leading them was a short, elderly fellow with the furtive features of a rat, sporting a black cap.
"Uncle! Thank goodness you're here!"
Dragging his shattered leg, Zhou Kun was overwhelmed with joy at the sight of the old man. This was none other than his uncle, Zhou Zilong—the head honcho of the Heikou Sect and the undisputed kingpin of the Chuzhou underworld.
Zhou Zilong had been roaming the streets since he was eighteen, and the Heikou Sect was an empire he had built with his own hands. In his youth, a brawl had left him injured below the belt, rendering him sterile and completely without heirs.
Though Zhou Kun was merely his nephew, Zhou Zilong had always treated him like his own flesh and blood. Seeing him now with a crippled leg naturally set his fury ablaze.
"Who the hell do you think you are, beating up one of my Heikou Sect men? Tired of living?"
Suppressing his rage, Zhou Zilong stared at Qin Yanyan and demanded an answer.
Eager as he was to tear Qin Yanyan into a thousand pieces, he still needed to assess the situation and figure out exactly what kind of opponent he was dealing with.
"Who am I? I'm your father!" Qin Yanyan looked at Zhou Zilong and smiled faintly.
"You're courting death! Take him down!"
Unable to stomach the insult, Zhou Zilong lost control and waved his hand to give the order.
Immediately, his horde of thugs drew clubs from beneath their jackets and charged at Qin Yanyan.
"Time to stretch my legs!"
Seeing the gang of thugs swarming toward him, Qin Yanyan stubbed out his cigarette with a sharp flick, stepped forward, and unleashed a flurry of blows.
Bang!
Bang, bang!
Just how terrifying was someone in the Foundation Establishment Stage? With a casual punch, Qin Yanyan could unleash thousands of pounds of force—far deadlier than Mike Tyson many times over. How could ordinary mobsters possibly stand a chance against him? In the blink of an eye, bodies littered the floor.
Either their hearts were pierced by Qin Yanyan's Internal Force, or their necks were snapped clean. One way or another, they were thoroughly, irrevocably dead.
"Good god!"
At the sight, Zhou Zilong was stunned dumb. The men he had brought with them were the elite fighters of his gang, yet they had been wiped out by a single person just like that.
"Stay back!"
Panicked, Zhou Zilong whipped out a pitch-black handgun and aimed it straight at Qin Yanyan. As the boss of the Heikou Sect, carrying a piece like that was second nature to him.
"Why do you people keep trying to scare me with toys like this? Since things have come to this, I suppose I have no choice but to open your eyes a little!"
Seeing the firearm pointed right at him, Qin Yanyan sighed and flicked his wrist. Something bizarre happened: Zhou Zilong felt an immense, irresistible force wrench his hand, and the pistol was violently ripped from his grip, flying straight into Qin Yanyan's palm.
Even more absurdly, Qin Yanyan reversed the weapon and pointed the barrel directly into his own mouth.
"I didn't really want to show off, but to keep you lot from constantly threatening me with this garbage, I'm forced to broaden your horizons!"
With that, amidst the dumbfounded stares of Zhou Zilong and Zhou Kun, Qin Yanyan pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The muzzle flashed, and a bullet tore out of the barrel, striking Qin Yanyan squarely in the face.
Yet none of the bloody carnage anyone might have imagined took place. Instead, Qin Yanyan simply opened his mouth, his pearly-white teeth clamping down on a dark little object. That dark object was the bullet itself—the round fired by the pistol had actually been caught between his teeth!
Seeing this, Zhou Zilong and Zhou Kun were petrified, turned instantly to stone.
"Could it be... are you the Beast from Kung Fu?" Zhou Zilong stammered after a long, breathless silence.
He had, after all, watched the movie *Kung Fu*, where the Beast caught bullets between his fingers. And here was Qin Yanyan, catching them with his teeth—the resemblance was uncanny.
Spit!
Qin Yanyan spat the flattened bullet onto the floor and tossed the handgun aside. "The Beast is a nobody. Killing him would be as easy as slaughtering a chicken."
And he wasn't wrong. The Beast's power level in *Kung Fu* roughly equated to the Eighth Layer of Qi Condensation among cultivators, whereas Qin Yanyan was in the Foundation Establishment Stage. Naturally, he could thrash the man blindfolded.
"Well? Do you submit or not?" Qin Yanyan asked, casting a glance at Zhou Zilong.
After all, Qin Yanyan intended to take over the Heikou Sect. Even as a cultivator, he wanted an influence of his own in the mortal realm, and the Heikou Sect would serve as his very first stepping stone.
"I submit! On behalf of everyone in the Heikou Sect, I, Zhou Zilong, pledge our total allegiance to you, sir. We will serve Mr. Qin as loyal dogs and horses!"
Zhou Zilong was a man who knew how to read the room—otherwise, he would never have survived to this day. Facing someone as terrifying as an immortal, what other choice did he have besides surrender? Right then and there, Zhou Zilong dropped to his knees and kowtowed to Qin Yanyan.
As for the remaining injured members of the Heikou Sect, they scrambled to their feet as best they could and dropped to their knees as well, kowtowing to Qin Yanyan. After all, the man was simply too powerful.
"Uncle! How can you surrender to a guy like this? Even if he can catch bullets, you can just blast him with cannons! I refuse to believe artillery can't blow him to pieces!"
Seeing his uncle and the entire gang surrender to Qin Yanyan, Zhou Kun—still nursing his shattered leg—lost his mind and began to scream hysterically.
Hearing his nephew's shrieks, Zhou Zilong flew into a rage. He suddenly pulled a knife from his belt and, without a second word, lunged at his nephew, plunging the blade straight into Zhou Kun's throat.
"Uncle..."
Zhou Kun couldn't believe his eyes. His own uncle had killed him. Pressing his hands frantically against his bleeding throat, he stared at Zhou Zilong with a gaze full of unwillingness and utter incomprehension.
Yet, in the end, he collapsed.