C6 If You Don't Listen, Who Are You Blaming?

Chen Qiang's eyes narrowed as he observed Ke Dong's dismissive demeanor, a surge of anger igniting within him.

I may have been your punching bag in the past, but times have changed. I've mastered the Iron Shirt technique and have become a true martial arts master. Do you really think I'm still afraid of you?

With this thought fueling his resolve, Chen Qiang clenched his fists and advanced several steps toward Ke Dong. "If you're looking for trouble, you've found it. Don't say I didn't warn you—prepare to meet your end!"

His words barely hung in the air before his fist barreled toward Ke Dong. Despite acquiring the Iron Shirt, which bolstered his bodily strength and made him tougher to take down, it didn't grant him any additional advantages. His approach to combat remained unchanged: ruthless, with an element of surprise.

But to Ke Dong, Chen Qiang's tactics were laughably ineffective, as slow as a tortoise in comparison.

With a swift sidestep, Ke Dong dodged the incoming punch and launched a kick with his right foot. This time, however, Chen Qiang didn't get sent flying. He stood his ground, and even Ke Dong felt a numbing sensation in his foot from the impact.

The prowess of the Iron Shirt was nothing short of impressive.

The crowd watching the skirmish looked on with envy at Chen Qiang's newfound resilience.

Before, Chen Qiang was like a mere child before Ke Dong, easily bullied. But now, with the Iron Shirt in his arsenal, the tables had turned. Who wouldn't covet such a stroke of luck?

They cursed their own hesitation, regretting that they hadn't seized the moment with the same daring and determination as Chen Qiang.

Yu Xuan's expression shifted as well. Her interest in Ke Dong was not solely based on attraction; it was his strength that promised safety. But with Chen Qiang's transformation, could aligning with him be the better choice?

Chen Qiang glanced down at his abdomen and nonchalantly brushed away the footprint. "Is that the best you can do, Ke Dong? Trying to tickle your grandpa? Come on, put some muscle into it!"

A chill crossed Ke Dong's expression as he slowly lifted his right hand, gripping the Coldsteel Sword. If unarmed combat proved futile, it was time to let the blade speak.

"Ke, hold on a second, I'll take this one!"

Soong Wan once again stepped forward, shielding Chen Qiang from view.

He had two reasons for intervening: firstly, he wanted to test the mettle of the Iron Shirt technique. As a martial arts master, the thrill of facing a true expert was irresistible. Secondly, he hadn't given up on recruiting Ke Dong. If he could extricate Ke Dong from this situation and extend another invitation, Ke Dong would likely accept.

Ke Dong was reluctant to be indebted to Soong Wan, but before he could intervene, Soong Wan had already charged ahead.

Soong Wan practiced the Iron Sand Palm, a style that prized aggression and taking the initiative. He certainly wouldn't wait for Chen Qiang to make the first move.

Besides, Chen Qiang was clueless about martial arts techniques, relying solely on the brute force of his Iron Shirt to intimidate others. Soong Wan wasn't concerned.

Chen Qiang hadn't anticipated Soong Wan jumping in to defend him, and before he could utter a word, Soong Wan was upon him.

The next moment, Soong Wan's iron palm struck Chen Qiang's chest. Chen Qiang staggered, biting back the pain and refusing to fall back. Then, with a loud curse, he hurled his right fist at Soong Wan's head.

Years of street fighting had taught Chen Qiang that showing weakness to a more ferocious opponent was not an option. Even outmatched, he knew to dominate with his presence. His curse served to embolden himself and to throw Soong Wan off.

Soong Wan was accustomed to sparring with honorable martial arts masters, not brutes like Chen Qiang, and certainly not to being sworn at. Sparring was one thing, but cursing?

Yet, cursing aside, Soong Wan's real problem was that his palms, though they connected with Chen Qiang, had little effect. Instead, he felt a jarring recoil, and his hands began to falter. With his guard wide open, he was unable to fend off Chen Qiang's punch, which hit him squarely.

With a resounding thud, a vivid bruise blossomed on Soong Wan's face as his body stumbled backward uncontrollably.

Despite his status as a martial arts master, he was still human, and a forceful punch could injure him just like anyone else.

Chen Qiang stared at his own fist, seemingly in shock. Had he truly bested a martial arts master?

Disbelief was etched on Soong Wan's face as well. Had he actually been defeated?

How could that be?

His Iron Sand Palm, honed over twenty painstaking years, had just been bested by a street thug who had only recently mastered the Iron Shirt?

The crowd, who had previously held Soong Wan in high esteem, now watched with changed expressions, their eyes clouded with doubt: Are you really a master?

Regret gnawed at Wang Chun. He knew Soong Wan possessed genuine skill, yet he had been vanquished by Chen Qiang. This confirmed the formidable nature of the Iron Shirt, a missed opportunity that Wang Chun lamented.

Yu Xuan's face flickered with emotion. She adjusted her hair and sashayed over to Chen Qiang, wrapping his arm in a cozy embrace and nuzzling against him. "Brother Qiang, I was only joking before, don't take it to heart. I've always known you were destined for greatness, even back at the company. From now on, I'll follow your lead."

Chen Qiang, basking in Yu Xuan's sudden change of heart, gave her a few playful scratches, sporting a smug look. "Soong Wan, Master Soong? You dare to challenge me with such meager skills? Ke Dong, you're up next!"

Soong Wan's face was a storm of emotions as he whispered, "Brother Ke, you've seen it yourself, the Iron Shirt is formidable. My Iron Sand Palm stood no chance. Perhaps we should join forces..."

"I've already told you, the Iron Shirt means nothing to me."

Ke Dong shook his head, stepping past Soong Wan to confront Chen Qiang. "Chen Qiang, I have no desire to fight or to end your life. There's still time for you to walk away."

Chen Qiang burst into laughter. "What was that? I didn't catch it. You don't want to fight or kill me? Well, I'm curious—do you even have what it takes?"

"Do you even understand what the Iron Shirt technique is? Can you grasp its formidable power? Soong Wan's Iron Palm can't even touch me; what makes you think you stand a chance against me?"

"Just give up gracefully, kneel, and call me 'grandpa.' I might just spare your life if you do."

At that moment, the onlookers lost their appetite for gossip, instead casting sympathetic glances toward Ke Dong.

If even Master Soong couldn't best Chen Qiang, what chance did you have? Better to concede and save your skin.

Ke Dong let out a sigh, "Clearly, some folks just refuse to see reason."

Chen Qiang let out a cold laugh, "You're the one who's beyond redemption! Since you're hell-bent on meeting your demise, don't blame me for what comes next!"

With those words, Chen Qiang charged at Ke Dong, banking on his Iron Shirt's invincibility and not bothering to defend. His bronzed fist hurtled toward Ke Dong's head.

Left with no choice, Ke Dong flicked his right hand, and the Coldsteel Sword became a streak of chilling light, piercing Chen Qiang's chest in a flash!

Against the Coldsteel Sword, the Iron Shirt was a mere trifle!

Chen Qiang came to an abrupt halt, staring in disbelief at the sword impaling his chest, his complexion ashen, bewildered: Wasn't I protected by the Iron Shirt?

Ke Dong shook his head once more, "I warned you time and again, yet you wouldn't listen. Who's to blame but yourself?"