At this moment, the fat man had yet to arrive. Mu Fan appeared in Chanisen's office again. Chanisen's eyes were red, and the first thing he said upon seeing Mu Fan was, "Jerff was just sent away!"
Mu Fan quietly listened to Chanisen's account. Young Master Wen was obviously in a bad mood today and had arrived early. He then notified the martial arts hall to send over its strongest person. Jerff, who had still been badly injured yesterday, went over—and less than half an hour later, Jerff was carried out of the hall!
"Bang!" Chanisen slammed his hand viciously onto the desk, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Mu Fan. "Young Master Wen is in the middle of a rage. Jerff left with serious injuries, and now Young Master Wen wants the hall to send someone else!"
If no one can step up, I'm finished—and none of you will fare well either! Chanisen roared furiously in his heart.
"Kid, your chance has come. I have to say, you're very lucky. The opportunity you wanted is right in front of you. Are you going or not?"
Mu Fan tilted his head slightly, an unreadable smile rising at the corner of his lips. There was a fire in his heart that needed an outlet as well. He said to Chanisen, word by word, "I'm going. Why wouldn't I?"
Chanisen saw not the slightest trace of fear on this young man's face, only confidence and incomparable calmness in his eyes.
Collecting himself, the middle-aged manager, like a trapped beast making its last struggle, spoke solemnly to Mu Fan. "I only need you to hold on this one time! If Young Master Wen calms down, everything can be discussed. If he doesn't calm down, then no one can say for sure. Do you understand!?" By the end, Chanisen's face had twisted.
"I know it's Young Master Wen. Though he's very formidable, I won't fight back. I'm only a sparring partner, right?" Mu Fan narrowed his eyes and smiled. "As for Young Master Harry, don't worry about him either. I've already spoken with him beforehand. If he comes, remember to let him know."
"Still, as you said, I'll only go once. After all, Young Master Harry has limits to his tolerance too." Mu Fan gave the martial arts hall manager before him a "kind" reminder.
"Go. Room One, third floor!" Chanisen clenched a cigar between his teeth and took a hard drag.
The moment Mu Fan stepped out, his expression quickly faded. With a blank face, he headed toward Room One in Building Three. He walked the same road as before, but with a completely different mood.
"Beep. Identification: sparring partner—Mu Fan. Please wait." Mu Fan pressed the communications bell.
"Heh, a sandbag finally came again. The hall is pretty efficient. Don't tell me they sent another piece of trash. Tsk, tsk. Come in." A gloomy, mocking voice came through the intercom.
Mu Fan's lips twitched. As he stepped into the room, he saw a bare-chested young man kick a Wooden Dummy apart with one leg. Hearing Mu Fan enter, the young man turned his head and shot him a sidelong glance.
He looked around twenty, taller than Mu Fan, with a well-proportioned, powerful build. His face was currently filled with malice, and his gaze carried naked contempt, as if he were looking at livestock awaiting slaughter.
This was Young Master Wen! The only son of Luoqie Star's Second Councilor—Wen Zheming!
"Chanisen really will send anyone to me. Well done, Chanisen. Heh heh." Wen Zheming lowered his raised leg, stretched his muscles and bones, then crooked a finger at Mu Fan.
"Come on. Don't worry, I won't beat you to death. But whether you can endure it or not depends on you." Bloodlust gleamed in his eyes, the twisted excitement of someone about to brutalize an opponent with his fists and feet!
"Hello, Young Master Wen." Mu Fan showed none of the reactions Wen Zheming had expected. There was not a trace of fear on his face; there was even amusement in his eyes.
Wen Zheming hated this feeling of things slipping beyond his control, and he hated self-righteous people even more. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly as he narrowed his eyes and stared coldly at this scrawnier kid before him.
As though he had not seen Young Master Wen's expression, Mu Fan continued, "Young Master Wen, I am a sparring partner from Starfall Martial Arts Hall. Mr. Chanisen temporarily assigned me to be your sparring partner. I can only spar with you once. I hope you enjoy your training at Starfall Martial Arts Hall."
Wen Zheming walked over step by step, looking down at Mu Fan as he said coldly, "I hate self-righteous people the most, so I hit hard. If you can't last an hour, I'll be very angry."
"Hello, Young Master Wen. What if I last an hour?" Mu Fan's faint smile made Wen Zheming's gaze grow increasingly cold.
"Then name your request. But if you can't last an hour..."
"Then I'll go die." Mu Fan smiled as he said it, patting the punching target strapped to his hand.
"Then go die!" Wen Zheming's eyes instantly turned crazed as a swift straight punch shot toward Mu Fan's chest!
The smile vanished from Mu Fan's face, and he raised his right arm at the same time.
Bang! The fist struck the punching target heavily, its force dissipating into nothing.
The two raised their heads and looked at each other at the same time!
Mu Fan had not retreated even half a step. His left hand still hung at his side, while the punching target on his right hand remained firmly held before him.
"Heh, you've got some skill!" Wen Zheming licked his lips. A strong lamb made the slaughter all the more satisfying. But a lamb was still a lamb.
Bloodlust flashed through his eyes once more. He drew back his fist, the muscles in his upper arm swelling as his right hook shot straight at Mu Fan's temple.
The instant Wen Zheming threw the punch, Mu Fan's head swayed slightly. Wen Zheming did not notice it, but for some reason, Mu Fan did not continue dodging. Instead, his head stopped its nearly imperceptible movement. His right hand moved to his temple faster than Wen Zheming's fist, while his left hand steadily braced his right.
Bang! It struck the punching target again, but Mu Fan's body still did not move! The force was fifty percent greater than Man Kun's punch.
A punch with 600 kilograms of force was blocked again!
Was this bug, which he could crush so easily, trying to prove its existence this way?? Hadn't he seen what happened to that big idiot before him? A bloodthirsty smile appeared on Wen Zheming's face again as he continued increasing his strength.
700 kilograms! Wen Zheming simply wanted to vent! Last night, his councilor father had berated him, leaving him filled with resentment. He had tried to force himself on the daughter of a junior councilor from District 22, but that councilor had actually called Wen Zheming's backer, and the matter ended up reaching his father.
The evil fire in his heart had nowhere to go!
Why had he come to this dump? Because of a woman, he had provoked his father and completely ruined his rare good mood.
She actually dared refuse me, that bitch!
And all you lowly creatures in this district too—watch me beat every last one of you until you kneel at my feet and beg for mercy! Ahahaha!
This kid in front of him, a trash-tier sparring partner, dared provoke him too. Did he really think he could leave here alive? Wen Zheming looked utterly crazed, his punches coming faster and faster.
Mu Fan took the blows without fighting back. He no longer stood perfectly still, instead retreating a step to brace his body. The punching target in his hand appeared precisely along Wen Zheming's attack paths, blocking every strike aimed to kill.
Trash, so he couldn't hold on anymore? Thinking of Mu Fan's faint, elusive smile from earlier filled Wen Zheming with rage. A martial arts hall sparring partner thought he was qualified to make demands of him? What the hell was he!
If people in his circle found out he had made a bet with a sparring partner, it would be a complete joke.
Both arms exerted force!
The wind from his punches whistled fiercely. Wen Zheming attacked vital points with every strike—eyes, ribs, heart. He had not used his full strength. He wanted to cripple the person before him bit by bit, far worse than the previous two combined, then stomp him to death beneath his foot as he looked on in despair. Hahahaha...
His fists shot out from every tricky, bizarre angle. Seeing Mu Fan take another retreating step only made Wen Zheming more excited.
He was about to give out?? Being able to block so many hits meant he had some skill, but... trash, fall for me already!
He threw a punch with twelve levels of force. Instantaneous punching power exceeding 1,150 kilograms surged through his arm into his fist, and a cruel smile spread across Wen Zheming's face.
"Bang!" A huge, heavy impact rang out like leather splitting. Mu Fan lowered his head, his right arm instantly sweeping across his body.
Rocks pierced the sky, raging waves battered the shore!
Mu Fan's gaze turned sharp!
PS: Thanks to reader "Remnant★Snow Without Trace" for the generous reward!
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