C17 The Thief

The man crept into Faang Yu's room with such stealth that his footsteps made no sound upon landing. His movements and posture betrayed a practiced ease, suggesting he was no stranger to this kind of work.

His cautious expression, the way his eyes darted about, sizing up the surroundings, left no doubt that he was a thief. After all, who else would slip into a stranger's home in the dead of night with such light-footed care?

The thief's gaze swept over Faang Yu's room, searching for anything of value to pocket. His search led him to a wooden box tucked under a small cabinet against the wall. Years of thievery had taught him that such containers often concealed treasures—jade, antiques, fine art—items of considerable worth.

With a surge of excitement, the thief gingerly opened the box, only to be met with disappointment. Inside were mere pencils, fountain pens, and an assortment of candies—hardly the lucrative haul he was after. He was in it for the money, not these trinkets.

Frustrated, he stood up to continue his search, but froze in shock. There, standing behind him, was none other than Faang Yu—the very man who had been asleep just moments before.

Faang Yu, once a heavy sleeper, would have missed the intruder's presence entirely. But now, having fully embraced the legacy of the Soldier King, he possessed the 'golden finger' of the King of Ice, granting him acute sensory perception. He could detect the faintest sounds, including the soft tread of the thief in his room.

Unbeknownst to the thief, Faang Yu had silently positioned himself just behind the intruder. The thief, priding himself on his keen awareness and his ability to evade capture, couldn't fathom how Faang Yu had managed to sneak up on him. Despite his own vigilance and finely honed instincts, he now faced the one person he had failed to detect.

Faang Yu's arrival was so sudden, it was as if he had always been there, invisible until that very moment. Unless he had turned his head, he would have remained completely undetected.

In this room, an unexpected presence could only mean one of two things: either it was a colleague or the room's owner. Observing Faang Yu's attire—a set of pajamas—it became clear to him; this was the homeowner. With that realization, he didn't hesitate; he turned on his heels and bolted. In such a scenario, what else was there to do but run?

He fancied himself quick, but he hadn't anticipated the whirlwind that seemed to chase him, and before he knew it, Faang Yu was there, blocking his path.

He slammed on the brakes, desperate to avoid a collision with Faang Yu. But his efforts were in vain; he had overestimated his ability to stop in time. The impact felt like crashing into an iron fortress; he was sent flying backward, his body wracked with pain, his bones seemingly shattered upon contact.

Yet Faang Yu stood unscathed, unmoved, as if rooted to the spot. In the split second of the encounter, his body had instinctively tensed, his muscles swelling to form an impenetrable shield as hard as steel. This was why the thief felt as though he had struck a wall of iron.

Now, the thief lay groaning, frantically trying to soothe his aching body. He looked up at Zheng Rong, who stood perfectly intact, fear flashing in his eyes. It was clear that no ordinary person could take such a hit and remain standing, let alone send an assailant flying.

In that moment, the realization dawned on him: he had crossed paths with a true master. Faang Yu was a legend among martial artists, a Soldier King. He had encountered martial arts experts before, some capable of launching a person through the air with a single touch. Faang Yu was evidently one of those rare individuals.

The thought filled him with a profound sense of misfortune. He had never imagined that a simple theft would lead him to the home of a martial arts master.

He could already picture the next scene in his mind: Faang Yu would give him a thrashing and then drag him off to the police station.

He had always been a successful thief, never once getting caught—until now. And to make matters worse, he had been nabbed by none other than a martial arts master. The thought alone was enough to bring him to tears.

Meanwhile, Faang Yu was approaching, and try as he might, he couldn't muster the strength to stand. The pain from his earlier encounter was too intense.

As Faang Yu drew nearer, his fear escalated, and panic flooded his eyes. Now, with Faang Yu standing right before him, the beating seemed inevitable.

The thought of pain terrified him, as did the prospect of being hit. In a desperate plea, he cried out to Faang Yu, "Big Brother, Big Brother... I was wrong, I was wrong... Please, don't hit me. I admit my mistake, I admit it..."

The thief began to apologize profusely, begging for mercy, knowing all too well the power behind a martial arts expert's punch. A few blows could land him in the hospital for over a fortnight, a fate he was keen to avoid.

His apologies were relentless, his pleas for forgiveness sincere. All he wanted was for Faang Yu to spare him the beating. He didn't even dare to hope for release; he knew that was out of the question. Any reasonable person would turn him in, especially a martial arts master like Faang Yu.