Mr. Satan's nightmare

There were damned pests everywhere! Mercenary Tao was already seething. How could he put up with Gerude mocking him so openly?

Mercenary Tao rose and walked toward Gerude and his pupil. Seeing the dowdily dressed old man approach, Mark quickly nudged his master with his elbow and whispered, "Master, he's coming over."

Gerude cast Mercenary Tao a sidelong glance, giving the old geezer no respect at all. He said loudly, "Mark-no, Mr. Satan. Remember this, Mr. Satan: in this world, the bigger fist is always right. To the strong, the anger of the weak is nothing but a joke!"

Only then did Mark suddenly remember his master's status-the newly crowned world martial arts champion!

That's right! Master was the world champion, the strongest man in the world. So what if he made a few jokes about an old man? Would some old geezer really dare come over and argue? If he angered Master, he might even get a beating and regret ever opening his mouth!

Mercenary Tao stopped beside Gerude, idly stroking his braid. His eyes narrowed as he said, "In this world, the bigger fist is always right. I like that."

Mercenary Tao's voice sounded like a crow crying in the cold night, sending goosebumps across young Mark's skin.

"I just wonder which is bigger-your fist or your mouth!" Mercenary Tao said with a sneer.

Gerude slammed the table and grabbed Mercenary Tao by the collar. "Hey, old man! Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he snarled.

Mercenary Tao's smile never faltered. "I'd certainly like to," he said ominously. "I just don't know whether you're up to the task."

Glancing at the liquor bottle on the table, Mercenary Tao added, "Why don't we make a bet? I bet your head will fit inside that bottle!"

Mark instinctively glanced at the bottle. It was an ordinary bottle, its opening no wider than a coin. How could anyone's head possibly fit inside? This old man had to be crazy!

With his young pupil watching, Gerude had his pride to protect. He roared and drove a fist at Mercenary Tao's face.

Unhurriedly, Mercenary Tao raised a single finger and stopped Gerude's fist. Gerude was stunned. Punching that finger felt like striking a towering mountain.

Gerude stepped back, spun, and kicked at Mercenary Tao's temple. Mercenary Tao merely tilted his head, trapping Gerude's foot between his head and shoulder.

Mercenary Tao gradually increased the pressure, and the sound of bones breaking in Gerude's foot reached his ears.

"Run, Mark!" Realizing he had picked the wrong opponent, Gerude hurriedly shouted for Mark to escape.

Seeing the fight break out, the other patrons showed no fear. Instead, they gathered around with their glasses to watch the show.

Mercenary Tao raised an arm and brought a knife-hand strike down on Gerude's lower leg. The vicious blow sliced it clean off!

At the horrifying sight, the onlookers screamed and scattered, plunging the bar into chaos. Mark, however, was frozen with terror. He sat where he was, staring blankly, as motionless as a wooden doll.

Frantic, Gerude ignored the agonizing pain in his leg. He grabbed Mark's arm and flung him away.

"What a wonderful feeling!" An expression of pleasure spread across Mercenary Tao's face. He loved this familiar sensation. Yesterday's experience had nearly made him question his entire life, but now his old confidence had returned.

Mercenary Tao suddenly thrust out his abnormally large, fanlike hand and clamped it over Gerude's face. With just a little pressure, his five fingers sank into the flesh and bone.

Gerude's jaw was held tightly in place as well. Despite his terrible suffering, he could not even scream. Only muffled, strangled sounds escaped his throat.

Mark snapped out of his daze. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists and rushed over, pounding Mercenary Tao's waist several times as he shouted, "Let go of my master! Let him go!"

"Ugh... Ma... Mark... go." Gerude was desperate, but he could only force out a few garbled words.

"Hmph!" Mercenary Tao glanced down at Mark, then kicked him in the stomach. Mark flew backward like an arrow loosed from a bow and crashed into the liquor cabinet against the wall.

Bottles clattered down and shattered across the floor, some of the fragments cutting Mark's skin. Mark coughed up a mouthful of blood. Mercenary Tao's kick had nearly killed him. He turned his head to look nearby, where his master Gerude's head was still locked in Mercenary Tao's grip.

Mercenary Tao smiled cruelly, then suddenly raised his other enormous hand and smashed it against Gerude's head.

Pop!

With a sound like an overripe watermelon bursting, Gerude's head was crushed by Mercenary Tao's tremendous strength.

Bit by bit, Mercenary Tao stuffed Gerude's head into the liquor bottle. He stopped only when flesh and blood overflowed from its mouth. Mark had long since fainted from the horror.

Mercenary Tao picked up Tailin's half-finished bottle and poured some liquor over his hands to rinse off the blood, then tipped the last few mouthfuls into his mouth. He laughed for a while before strolling leisurely out of the tavern.

Tailin had heard the commotion from his bathroom stall, but at first he had paid it no mind. Taverns attracted all sorts, and drunken brawls were commonplace. He was not worried about his son getting into trouble. With Gerude there, who could possibly pose a danger to Mark?

After a while, however, the commotion abruptly died away. An inexplicable unease crept into Tailin's heart. He hurried out of the stall, gave his hands a quick wash, and returned to the tavern.

As soon as he entered, Tailin saw his son Mark lying in a pool of blood. His heart lurched. Looking toward their seats, he saw that only his senior fellow disciple's body remained, blood flowing steadily from the raw stump of his neck.

Tailin's vision darkened, and the room seemed to spin around him. When he noticed the bottle on the table, filled with something unidentifiable, his stomach churned violently.

But there was no time to stand there in shock. Tailin felt Mark's neck and found a faint pulse. He scooped up his son and raced like a madman toward the nearest hospital.

Fortunately, Mark was young and his body was supple. Although Mercenary Tao's kick had broken several ribs and ruptured some internal organs, the doctors managed to save him, and his life was no longer in danger.

Though out of danger, Mark would not regain consciousness anytime soon. Tailin stayed beside his son's hospital bed, praying silently.

While unconscious, Mark had a very long dream. He dreamed of Gerude patiently teaching him martial arts, of growing up and making his name with a single victory in the arena, and of the spectators chanting his imposing name in unison-Mr. Satan!

Mr. Satan! Mr. Satan! Mr. Satan!

Just as the dreaming Mr. Satan stood proudly in the ring to receive his victor's wreath, a rift suddenly tore open in the sky, revealing an old man with a braid and a sinister face. The old man reached down, seized Mr. Satan's head, and crushed him to death right there in the ring.