He Xin watched the scene unfold, a cruel expression on his face.
He knew how strong his companion was, so he knew Chen Chong was finished.
Normally, newcomers who didn't want to join them would get nothing worse than a beating.
But not now. At this critical moment, nobody was allowed to stay neutral. If they didn't join them, they might join the other side.
Even if it was only a newcomer, losing one here and another there meant twice the losses. It could easily upset the balance.
Would crippling a newcomer who'd just arrived hurt the Second Boss's reputation?
They'd all been around the bar for a while. They knew Zhou Hu was nothing if not pragmatic.
As long as they didn't break the rules by ganging up on someone or have a higher-level fighter step in, losing a one-on-one fight meant you were just useless. At worst, the person who hurt you would have some money docked. Zhou Hu would never lose one Contracted Fighter and then let another one go, too.
So stupid, and so disrespectful...
Lying in bed was getting off lightly. Even if he died, nobody would care.
His companion's leg was already on its way. He could practically see what would happen next.
He casually rolled his sprained wrist, thinking about what choice insult to throw out, when his whole body suddenly froze.
His wrist had only moved halfway. Now it was locked in a bizarre pose, like a chicken's claw.
The sight before him was so unbelievable that He Xin was completely dumbfounded.
Right in front of him, his companion's full-power roundhouse kick had reached Chen Chong's ear—and then stopped dead.
Chen Chong had raised one hand. Just one hand. He caught the leg that could snap a bundle of steel pipes, and