The sudden turn of events caught everyone off guard.
Everyone had just one thought in their heads: Who the hell is this?
Then they couldn't help staring at the newcomer's arms—with strength like that, those arms ought to be big enough to race horses on!
"Aaargh!" The Meaty Middle-Aged Man roared as he scrambled to his feet, though he sounded rather pitiful with half his face swollen.
"You're fucking asking for it!" The moment he regained his footing, he swung a fist at the newcomer.
The newcomer curled his lips and swept a leg out, sending the man crashing face-first to the ground. He smiled calmly. "Looks like you're the one asking for it."
The Meaty Middle-Aged Man stood up again. His lips worked, and he spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva with two teeth in it. Whether that was thanks to the earlier slap or the force of his subsequent face-plant was anyone's guess...
Perhaps the blood had set him off, for the madness in his eyes grew even more intense. His fury soared, which benefited Shen Bing by raising the amount of "anger" he collected.
He suddenly pulled a dagger from his trouser pocket. Amid shocked gasps and screams, he thrust it straight at the newcomer.
Cold light gleamed along the dagger's edge. It had clearly been sharpened, and to a wicked edge at that.
If it landed, it would punch a hole clean through.
Yet the newcomer remained completely unruffled. Grinning, he said, "Didn't realize you knew how to use a knife! Your technique's all wrong, though. Let me teach you."
With that, he made no unnecessary movements. A slight bend of his wrist was all it took to pinch the dagger as it reached his chest.
He really had pinched it—between just two fingers.
Yet