Gu Sheng chopped off several knife-wielding hands. He did not pursue them, letting the gangsters clutch their severed wrists and retreat screaming.
"My hand! My hand!"
As those gangsters fell back, they actually got in the way of the others charging forward.
Then another five or six rushed over, raising their blades and hacking wildly downward.
Almost every one of them had wide-open eyes and a savage expression.
Under the night sky, this stretch of road not far from the many mansions halfway up Victoria Peak became humanity's most primitive, most savage Colosseum.
Gu Sheng's footwork remained as simple as ever: one step back, one step forward. Those slashes struck empty air.
Two blades flashed. Another two gangsters clutched their severed arms with cries of pain. Then Gu Sheng thrust out a kick, sending one man flying, before spinning to narrowly avoid an incoming slash and whipping out another kick.
Thud!
With the dull sound of flesh colliding, the gangster took a kick to the waist and flew straight out.
Gu Sheng flourished both blades. A hilt turned in his palm, and the blade in his left hand shifted from a forward grip to a reverse grip, held across his body.
Just then, two blades hacked down.
Clang!
He raised his left hand slightly, blocking both blades overhead like a shield, while his right hand slashed out like lightning, splitting open the gangster facing him.
Gu Sheng followed with a kick to his knee. Bone cracked, and the man crumpled to the ground.
Gu Sheng followed through with a stomp on his neck.
Crack!
The wounds on the front of this fellow's body looked too gruesome. Gu Sheng had always been kindhearted and could not bear to look at something so awful. Now that the man lay facedown, he could