Twelve Breaths, Eight Men Down

Beneath the moonlight, Lin Fan walked over the blue bricks. The ground gradually softened beneath his feet, and he knew he had reached the shantytown where he lived.

Everyone yearned to live in the bustling city center.

But in reality, very few people could afford to live there.

He lived in the part of town where the common folk dwelled. There were no activities to cultivate the mind here; all they could do was wake up and figure out how to fill their stomachs.

Just as he was about to reach home, he happened upon two familiar figures from behind.

"Captain Song," Lin Fan called out.

The two men, sabers at their waists and seemingly on their way to a case, stopped and turned around in puzzlement. By the moonlight, they made out his face. Surprise flickered across the stern-faced Song Qing's features, then he smiled and said:

"Brother Lin, what are you doing here?"

Lin Fan walked up to them and pointed next door. "My home's right here. Where are you two headed?"

Song Qing replied, "We got word that the suspect behind the recent spate of thefts is around here. We're going to bring him in."

Hearing this,

Lin Fan glanced at the sky, then at Captain Song, who still had only one other person with him.

Seriously.

Was the Security Bureau fucking short on people?

Why were these two always going out alone?

"Captain Song, I know this area pretty well. Why don't I come with you? You know I can handle myself. If anything goes wrong, I can lend a hand." Lin Fan volunteered eagerly, ready to get involved.

He remembered what his sister had said: Captain Song was being pushed around at the Security Bureau.

"Sure. Then I'll trouble you," Captain Song said, clasping his hands.

"Don't mention it, Captain Song."

Lin Fan wanted to join the Security Bureau. Getting to know more people there could only do him good.

Captain Song and Yang Ming knew about what had happened at Cui Jing Tower. They hadn't expected to have underestimated Lin Fan, even though they'd thought they were overestimating him. They hadn't seen it with their own eyes, but they could still imagine how dangerous things must have been.

One man had beaten up eighteen Gold Medal Fighters from the Fierce Tiger Gang?

That was insane.

They knew how formidable Gold Medal Fighters were. They were the toughest fighters around; an ordinary Gold Medal Fighter could take on three or four men without a problem.

Before long, Lin Fan had joined them at the suspect's hideout.

Yang Ming seemed much more relaxed, perhaps because Lin Fan was with them.

Song Qing noticed the change. His disciple had seemed perfectly normal when they set out, but Song Qing knew he was nervous. He'd kept asking, "Master, should we call in more people?"

The murderer from a while back had clearly left him with some psychological scars.

Song Qing sighed softly.

The boy still needed training.

The place they'd reached was remote. The suspect was holed up in a rundown temple. A fire burned inside, lighting up the whole place. Someone was definitely in there.

"Brother Lin, wait outside. He and I will go in. If the suspect tries to escape, I hope you can stop him," Song Qing said. He was confident about this job.

He didn't expect any trouble.

They weren't going after some vicious criminal, just a thief.

"All right."

Lin Fan nodded.

Song Qing nodded to his disciple, then headed into the rundown temple.

Left outside, Lin Fan looked around. Yong'an City's public safety wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible either. For the common folk, it was livable, but only just.

A beggar's cudgel lay on the ground.

Lin Fan picked it up and gave it a few careless swings. That was what people did when they had nothing to do: pick at a wall or grab something nearby and fiddle with it.

Of course, plenty of people picked their noses, too.

Suddenly,

Bam!

The temple door burst open.

Two battered figures tumbled out, scrambling on hands and knees.

"Brother Lin, run! Run!" Song Qing shouted.

Lin Fan looked up and saw fear on Song Qing and Yang Ming's faces. Right behind them, several figures armed with blades came charging out, their faces vicious and their killing intent surging. They were clearly determined to leave Song Qing and Yang Ming dead.

Were thieves really this savage?

Just then, footsteps sounded from the surrounding darkness.

There was nowhere to run.

Several more knife-wielding thugs emerged from the shadows, blocking their retreat.

Song Qing held his saber across his chest and backed up beside Lin Fan. "The Security Bureau is on a case! You've got some nerve, daring to kill officers of the Security Bureau!"

Yang Ming swallowed hard. The hand holding his saber trembled. He'd never faced anything like this before. In all the cases he'd worked with his master, he'd never once run into a situation like this.

"Hahaha, the Security Bureau? You're exactly who we're here to kill." The lead thug eyed Song Qing greedily. His gaze made it seem as if he wasn't looking at a person, but a walking pile of silver.

"Captain Song, these men came prepared. They've been waiting for you," Lin Fan said.

Thieves?

Since when were thieves this vicious?

They'd used the pretext of catching a thief to lower Song Qing's guard and lure him here.

Song Qing had already realized they'd been deliberately baited. He said softly, "Brother Lin, take my disciple and get out of here. I'll hold them off."

Lin Fan patted Song Qing on the shoulder. "Captain Song, I'm a pretty good fighter."

"I know you can fight, but they've got knives."

"Me being able to fight and them having knives are two different things."

To Lin Fan, fighting barehanded or fighting knife-wielding thugs was all the same.

Lin Fan looked over the thugs and counted eight. Every one of them looked ferocious. They were clearly no ordinary thugs; they were likely old hands who'd committed murder before.

He took a step forward and asked, "You know we're with the Security Bureau, yet you still dare come at us with knives. Tell me, who sent you?"

"We take people's money and rid them of their troubles. When you get down there, ask for yourself."

"Brothers, hack them to death!"

The night was dark, the rundown temple bleak. Eight men charged at them with knives, their blades reflecting the waning moon in scattered glints. They ran in a disorderly pack, slashing wildly and cursing to work themselves up.

None of them thought killing the three men in front of them would be difficult.

There were eight of them, after all.

They could hack at them like blind men and still chop them into minced meat.

The first thug to reach them raised his blade with a savage look and brought it down.

"Die, you bastard!"

Smack!

Before the blade could fall, a blur of cudgel flashed as fast as lightning. Lin Fan cracked it against the man's wrist. The bone shattered instantly, and the knife spun out of his hand, embedding itself in the dirt nearby.

Before the thug could even scream,

Lin Fan's gaze sharpened. He turned his wrist and jabbed the end of the cudgel into the man's throat. With a sharp crack, the man's Adam's apple caved in and shattered. A few strangled gurgles escaped him before he crumpled to the ground.

Two thugs swung their blades at him from either side.

Lin Fan dropped low and swept his cudgel across. The blow landed with tremendous force on their ankles. Crack! Smack! They spun through the air and slammed into the ground.

A blade whistled in from behind. Without even looking, Lin Fan jabbed the cudgel backward into the attacker's stomach. As the man doubled over and retched, Lin Fan seized him by the collar and pulled him in front of himself, right into the path of a blade swinging from the front.

Splurt! Splurt! Splurt! Splurt!

"Ah! It's me! It's me! Who are you chopping?!"

Lin Fan kicked the human shield into the thugs, sending them scrambling in panic. Just as they steadied themselves, the whistle of a cudgel came rushing toward their ears.

They looked up. Their pupils shrank, and their mouths fell open.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

One swing, four heads. Every blow landed.

Crack!

It wasn't their heads that broke. Under that intense burst of force, the cudgel in Lin Fan's hands had finally reached its limit. Unable to take any more, it snapped.

One man remained.

Lin Fan turned and looked at the sole thug standing frozen in place.

Clatter!

The man's mouth hung open. The knife slipped from his hand. He was completely stunned.

"Ah... Help!"

The thug came to his senses and turned to run.

Monster. Monster.

Lin Fan smiled, tensed his arm, and hurled the broken cudgel. It tore through the air and struck the man squarely in the back of the head. He dropped and didn't get up.

Twelve breaths, eight men down.

Their lives hung in the balance.

Lin Fan dusted off his hands as if he'd just done something perfectly ordinary.

"Don't be nervous. It's over."

Song Qing: ...

Yang Ming: ...

They stared at the scene before them, their minds reeling from the shock. If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, they'd never have believed anyone could be so powerful.

Eight men.

Every last one of them armed with knives.

And just like that, they were gone?