Since Pan Long had no intention of letting anyone falsely accuse him, his only choice was to make the shop assistant change his story.
And how would he do that?
In his previous life, there had been a famous saying online: "A person's powers of persuasion are directly proportional to the size of his fists." Taken to its logical conclusion, it became: "People believe you just because you say something? Then you're probably pointing a gun at their head."
Pan Long had no gun, of course, but he did have fists.
With one casual punch, its force carefully controlled, he knocked the red-haired assistant to the floor. The long fire poker fell from his hand.
Only after knocking him down did Pan Long sigh and say, "I know people like you. You can't make anything of yourself, so you look down on anyone who can. Seeing someone from the East come all the way West to make his way made you jealous. So you spread lies about me to satisfy that petty jealousy. Am I right?"
"No!" The assistant's face flushed crimson. He scrambled to his feet and shouted, "You're talking nonsense!"
Another punch met him head-on and knocked him to the floor again.
"It's a long, long way from East to West," Pan Long said. "I crossed mountains, grasslands, deserts, and oceans. I fought bandits, pirates, corrupt officials, zealots who wanted to burn every heretic alive, and even Evil Fiends who delighted in taking people as sacrifices... You have a long way to go!"
The assistant's face grew redder still, whether from shame or anger, Pan Long could not tell. He got up again, yelling meaningless sounds as he charged.
So he was knocked down a third time.
If Pan Long had been serious, one punch would have turned