Chapter 60 Another Ambush

"You know Dongxue! Where is she now?" Old Han suddenly became agitated, his eyes burning as he stared at Qin Yang, desperate for an answer.

But Qin Yang had no intention of letting the old man off so easily. With a low growl, he leapt into the air, his right fist charging down like a tiger descending the mountain. Though he had only practiced Xingyi Boxing for a few days, Han Mufeng’s careful instruction, coupled with his own strength and talent, had allowed him to progress rapidly. The onlookers could almost hear the roar of a king of beasts. Old Han dared not be careless—the force of Qin Yang’s fist forced him to retreat over two meters, skillfully dissipating the tremendous power.

"Your medical skills are worthy of a third-level master, but your fighting is far from it," Qin Yang sneered, his eyes icy cold. The memory of nearly losing his right arm fueled his anger. He lunged forward, striking with such raw, unrefined instinct that Old Han had no time for technique—he narrowly dodged, biting his lip, his right foot stepping aside. As Qin Yang overextended, Old Han’s finger jabbed at the pressure point on his arm, but to his shock, a domineering force within Qin Yang’s body repelled his touch.

"Qin Yang, stop!" Huang Zequn hurried over, grabbing Qin Yang from behind. "Are you trying to get the both of us killed?"

"Qin Yang, that's enough!" Guo Yang, ever the opportunist, rushed to block him as well. "If you cause any more trouble, how am I supposed to explain it?"

"Out of my way."

With a surge, Qin Yang threw both Huang Zequn and Guo Yang aside, murderous intent radiating from him. "Today, I won’t stop until one of us is dead!"

Staggering back three or four steps, Huang Zequn and Guo Yang exchanged wry smiles as they watched Qin Yang charge forward. This time, he’d really gone too far. Old Han was no ordinary man—if his disciples heard Qin Yang had insulted and fought him in front of such a crowd, how could they not seek revenge?

Even Yang Feng, watching from the side, sneered. He despised this pampered heir who survived by sheer luck, a fool driven by impulse. Now, the whole Qin family was in danger.

"Well, Qin Yang, let me see what you’re truly capable of today." Old Han was not angry, but grave. His earlier exchange had revealed much—this young man had some understanding of Xingyi Boxing and Bagua Palm, and even hints of ancient special forces techniques. Old Han didn’t know where Qin Yang had learned it, but he was eager to test him.

A fierce wind filled the hall as Old Han moved with surprising power and agility for his age. His mastery of medicine was matched by his formidable martial arts. In contrast, Qin Yang’s technique was hidden beneath a savage, murderous aura—he seemed less man, more killing machine.

The two exchanged blows—Old Han’s attacks balanced and precise, repeatedly forcing Qin Yang back. Some spectators even applauded Old Han’s skill as Qin Yang, despite his bravado, was struck several times and staggered back. Many secretly mocked the arrogant young man, but a few noticed the deepening cold smile at the corner of Qin Yang’s mouth.

Liu Molan believed she understood Qin Yang’s combat prowess better than anyone present. She’d seen him, wounded and bleeding, slaughter a dozen hardened thugs without pause. Compared to that, Old Han’s attacks were negligible, and Qin Yang’s recovery was monstrous—after being pierced by an arrow, he’d been up and energetic the next day, defying every doctor’s prognosis. She wasn’t worried about him getting hurt; she feared what might happen when Old Han’s strength was spent and Qin Yang lost control.

Liu Yan noticed Qin Yang’s intentions as well, alarmed and already pondering how to stop him.

Forced back another seven or eight steps, Qin Yang paused, rolling his shoulder. Old Han’s face flushed, his arms trembling slightly, though he hid it well.

"Old Han is truly vigorous for his age," someone murmured.

"Who would have thought Old Han’s mastery extends not only to medicine, but to the pinnacle of Chinese martial arts?"

Cracking his neck, Qin Yang flexed his fists, a sinister smile on his lips. "Old Han, enjoying yourself? Now it’s my turn."

"This brat..." Old Han remained expressionless, but inside he was bitter. Qin Yang was deliberately exhausting him, relying on youth and stamina—such shameless tactics! Even worse, Old Han knew that after what Cheng Ye did, nearly crippling Qin Yang’s arm, this young man would show no mercy, family ties be damned. One of those boys had almost died at Qin Yang’s hands.

Taking a deep breath, Qin Yang fixed Old Han with a chilling gaze.

"Qin Yang, Old Han has already yielded many times. Don’t push your luck," Liu Yan interjected, hoping to sway public opinion. "He’s a senior. Isn’t it enough to exchange a few moves?"

"Shut up."

Qin Yang’s icy retort cut her off completely. Someone swallowed nervously. Even when such a beautiful woman spoke up, this notorious playboy simply told her to shut up? Anger flared in Liu Yan’s eyes, but she suppressed it, gesturing with her right hand.

At that moment, Qin Yang leapt nearly two meters high, launching a powerful kick at Old Han. Even Old Han’s face turned grim, calculating how to defend against such ferocity. But suddenly, from within the crowd, a man darted forward, aiming straight at Qin Yang.

Qin Yang narrowed his eyes, catching the mocking glint in the small eyes of an ugly face. Old Han’s expression darkened, but he was too late—the ugly man kicked Qin Yang midair, sending him spinning before he crashed to the ground.

"Qin Yang, this isn’t the place for your antics. Get out—now!"

The ugly man advanced, towering over Qin Yang as he lay on the floor.

"Qin Yang!"

Qi Mengwei’s face went pale as she rushed to his side. Yang Feng’s expression grew even darker, but he was too slow to intervene. Qi Mengwei tried to help Qin Yang up, only to see him wave her off with his right hand. The ugly man’s eyes widened in disbelief, instinctively retreating two steps. He had kicked with enough force to hospitalize Qin Yang for three months, yet the young man was already getting up?

Qin Yang slowly rose, dusting himself off, his face calm but his eyes darkening. Cracking his neck, he said coldly, "If anyone else is hiding in the shadows, come out now."

Old Han’s gaze turned sinister. "Qin Yang, if you kill him by accident, I’ll guarantee your safety."

"Old Han!" Liu Yan gasped. "He—"

"Enough," Old Han snapped. "In all my years, I’ve never been so humiliated."

"I’ll deal with you after I finish with him," Qin Yang pointed at Old Han, then looked at the ugly man. "I won’t kill you, but don’t expect to leave here standing."

He cracked his knuckles and said softly, "Qi Mengwei, step back."

Qi Mengwei nodded and moved away cautiously.

"Don’t kill anyone," Liu Molan stepped forward, her voice low. "Do you understand?"

"Don’t worry," Qin Yang nodded gently.

This time, he threw himself forward with all his strength, swift as the wind. The ugly man, facing Qin Yang head-on, thought he saw a black tiger stalking behind him. Just as he braced himself, Qin Yang’s body flickered and vanished. Before the man could react, Qin Yang appeared at his side, unleashing a classic Bruce Lee side-kick that sent him flying over two meters, crashing into a table. Bottles and glasses shattered, spilling liquor across the carpet, filling the hall with its aroma.

"This morning at the teahouse, I simply didn’t want to fight you. Your skill is barely on par with Old Han. I was only curious to see the depth of his family’s techniques. Did you really think you were someone important?" Qin Yang looked down at the ugly man, sneering. "Old Han’s medical skill is superb, but his martial arts barely scratch the surface. I could cripple him with one hand—so what chance do you have?"

"You—you!" The ugly man lay on the floor, wracked with pain.

"I have a grudge with him, but at least he dares face me openly. You? What are you?" Qin Yang laughed scornfully, squatting down to grab the man’s right hand. "Tell me, how should I deal with you?"

"Qin Yang, stop!" Liu Yan hurried to intervene.

Qin Yang ignored her completely, gripping the man’s arm tightly. The room winced at the crisp crack as he twisted it a full three hundred and sixty degrees. Many turned away, unable to bear the sight, as the ugly man’s face contorted in agony, growing even more grotesque.