Escape from the Dungeon

At Yu Hongyi's command, more than twenty servants rushed forward and surrounded Mo Chen.

Mo Chen moved swiftly, his sweeping kicks blowing like the wind. He knocked down the men at the front, then swung both fists and floored another seven or eight coming up behind them.

Seeing this, however, Yu Hongyi called over another dense crowd to help.

Damn it. If I hadn't forcibly interrupted a Heavenly Cycle earlier, leaving this pain like my meridians had seized up, my attacks would have been much smoother.

What a shame I never practiced lightness skills. Otherwise, even if I couldn't win, I could still run.

But with forty or fifty men surrounding him, escaping through brute strength alone, without a blade or any other weapon, was truly difficult.

As the saying went, two fists could not beat four hands. Even martial masters could be trampled to pieces when the imperial court sent its cavalry to crush the martial world, much less Mo Chen, who had yet to recover fully.

Before long, the dozens of thugs took turns wearing Mo Chen down, then pinned him, bound him in iron chains, and dragged him away.

The funny part was that every one of those thugs had a bruised nose and swollen face. They looked utterly ridiculous.

When the villagers along the street saw Master Yu leading forty or fifty thugs who were carrying a young fellow between them, they could not keep straight faces.

Really, who could have?

Yu Hongyi, the gambling den's owner, strutted along at the front, but his face looked as though he had swallowed a mouthful of shit.

The forty or fifty thugs following him were all big, burly men, yet every last one had been beaten black and blue. Some were even limping along.

In all their years,