Online and offline alike, it had practically turned into a carnival.
"This Kim Woong-ho was as arrogant back then as he is pathetic today! He couldn't even take a single punch from Mr. Long."
"Look at him clutching his ribs after going down. Could his ribs be broken?"
"Isn't that obvious? They're definitely broken! He might even be crippled for life."
At this moment, Zhang Yang's image—wearing a mask and standing with his hands behind his back—had become an icon. It rapidly went viral across the internet, becoming a rising symbol of traditional martial arts in the country.
In a sense, if Zhang Yang announced today that he was entering the film and entertainment industry, major investors would be waving stacks of cash tomorrow, competing to invest hundreds of millions in films tailor-made for him to star in.
Whatever big-name celebrities there were, they would beg to act alongside him even without pay, even if it meant playing only a supporting role.
Unfortunately, Zhang Yang had no interest in it.
After tonight, there would be no more Mr. Long. Of course, if one wanted to elevate the theme a little, one could also put it this way: after tonight, anyone could be Mr. Long.
Throughout the night, Zhang Yang swept through competitors from all directions.
Every match ended with a single punch or kick. He instantly crushed opponents from every side without mercy.
The cheers at the venue were simply overwhelming.
Inside several VIP rooms, quite a few celebrities turned into fans, posting photos from the venue and becoming fangirls and fanboys as they entered full-on idol-chasing mode.
Under the collective hype from official media, self-media, and online and offline channels alike, tonight had become a carnival belonging to the people of the country.
On the ring, Zhang Yang stood