C21 Killing Wang Meng

Faang Ming didn't hesitate for a moment. In two strides, he leaped onto the coffee table and lunged for Wang Meng.

Wang Meng wasn't about to go down without a fight. He grabbed a girl, already shaking with fear, and hurled her at Faang Ming. Another girl, witnessing Wang Meng's desperate act, had retreated to a corner of the room, sobbing.

Normally, Faang Ming wouldn't have been fazed, but this time he frowned, caught the girl, and quickly pushed her aside. As he spun around, a chair was already flying towards him.

With a loud crash, Faang Ming, unable to dodge, was struck by the chair and staggered back a couple of steps.

Rubbing the sore spot where the chair had hit him, Faang Ming saw Wang Meng reaching for another makeshift weapon. With a swift leap and a kick, he sent Wang Meng's hefty frame tumbling to the ground. Before Wang Meng could recover, Faang Ming seized him by the shoulders and hoisted him up with ease.

"Go to hell," Wang Meng spat, swinging a punch at Faang Ming's left cheek. Faang Ming merely tilted his head, dodging with ease, and countered with a crushing blow to Wang Meng's right hand.

A sickening crack filled the air as Wang Meng collapsed to the ground, wailing in agony. Faang Ming's hands were now gripping Wang Meng's head.

"No... please, don't kill me!" Wang Meng pleaded, the pain in his broken arm forgotten in his fear.

The sounds of shattering glass, cries, and screams finally caught the attention of others. A lackey rushed to inform Yang.

Upon hearing the commotion, Yang angrily flicked his cigar to the floor and barked, "This is bad! Round up the brothers and let's check it out."

In no time, Yang, with a posse of fifty to sixty men, charged up the stairs and made a beeline for room eighteen.

"Jie is in there with the boss, discussing business. No one gets in," declared the guard at the door.

"To hell with that! Do you think I'm a fool? Attack!" Yang commanded, and his men surged forward, a tidal wave armed with iron bars and machetes.

"Brothers, it's do or die!" The eighteen guards, realizing their cover was blown, drew their hidden machetes and met the onslaught head-on.

Downstairs, patrons who had been dining, singing, and dancing scrambled for the exits, grabbing their belongings in a panicked rush.

The narrow corridor became a bottleneck. Despite Yang's numbers, chaos ensued as everyone jostled upwards. The eighteen guards, knowing the stakes, fought with the ferocity of the cornered, their machetes flashing wildly.

In moments, bodies hit the floor amidst a cacophony of screams and curses.

Meanwhile, Zhang Yijie, having dealt with the last of his opponents, heard the uproar and turned to Faang Ming. "Move fast, I'm going out to help," he said.

Knife in hand, Zhang Yijie burst through the door and charged at Yang's men. Within seconds, several were wounded.

Zhang Yijie's eighteen hadn't fallen yet; at most, a few had suffered minor cuts. Bolstered by Zhang Yijie's arrival, they rallied with renewed vigor, shouting as they plunged into the fray.

"Please, don't kill me! I'll give you whatever you want," the remaining people in the room begged desperately.

Faang Ming gave him a cold glance and said, "The blame is on you for setting Lee Dafeng after Ning'er. This isn't on me."

With those words, Faang Ming seized Wang Meng's head, exerted a bit of force, and a crisp snap echoed. Wang Meng's head drooped powerlessly, and he slumped down, breathless.

Having dispatched Wang Meng, Faang Ming dashed out. He spotted Zhang Yijie clashing with Four-eyed Old Yang's crew, with more rushing up the stairs. "Yijie, you've done it! Take the brothers and jump from the window on the right side of the private room, quick!" Faang Ming called out urgently.

Zhang Yijie, upon hearing this, led his men to fight their way back. Faang Ming shattered the windowpane with a kick and urged Zhang Yijie, "Go first, we'll connect by phone later."

"No, there are too many of them. You go first!" Zhang Yijie insisted, raising his voice to Faang Ming.

"Stop dawdling, will you? Move it, or we won't stand a chance when the cops show up," Faang Ming snapped, shoving Zhang Yijie towards the window.

Touched by Faang Ming's gesture and mindful of his own prowess, Zhang Yijie gave Faang Ming a nod, then scaled the windowsill and descended the drainpipe.

"Move it! Go, go!" Faang Ming yelled to those left behind, stepping forward to engage the assailants.

Old Yang, infuriated, bellowed at Faang Ming, "You might have let Zhang Yijie slip away, but you won't escape, Faang Ming. You dared to kill Wang Meng, now my brothers will hack you to pieces!"

In that instant, Faang Ming sidestepped a machete and, with a burst of strength, leapt up and sprinted along the wall, closing in on Old Yang and delivering a decisive slash.

Old Yang clutched his neck as blood seeped through his fingers, his eyes betraying his disbelief. He never imagined Faang Ming could scale the wall and confront him face-to-face.

Old Yang lay dead, but Faang Ming was now surrounded.

Despite the enhanced strength, agility, and speed from drinking the pond water of the Spiritual Energy Space, Faang Ming found himself outnumbered. Dodging left and right, he couldn't avoid a blade that sliced into his back, soaking his clothes in blood.

The sharp pain made Faang Ming gasp, but his remarkable resolve had him swinging his machete, felling many as their cries filled the air.

Faang Ming's actions had captured the gang's full attention, giving Zhang Yijie and his eighteen a much-needed reprieve.

"Boss! We gotta get out of here! The cops!" one of the remaining three with Zhang Yijie shouted up to Faang Ming.

Hearing the wail of police sirens, Faang Ming longed to flee, but the deep gash on his back throbbed excruciatingly with every movement, and his depleted strength left him unable to scale the walls any longer.

"Go on without me!" Faang Ming hollered to the three still waiting.

Seeing Faang Ming's ashen face and his struggle to stay upright, they realized that without his diversion, few of their original eighteen would have made it out.

The three men exchanged glances, gripping their bloodied machetes tightly, and with a collective shout, they charged at the group encircling Faang Ming.

Their cries immediately drew the attention of the assailants, prompting one of them to brandish a machete and confront the trio.

Despite their injuries, the three men fought their way to Faang Ming's side.

"Big brother! Let's get out of here! We'll cover you and fight our way through!" No sooner had one of them spoken than he was struck by a barrage of knives and slowly collapsed to the ground.

Upon witnessing this, Faang Ming let out a furious roar and, with the two remaining men, made a desperate dash for the window. As they neared it, another man fell.

Faang Ming, now at the window, clutched the drainage pipe and urged the last man standing, "Go! Now!"

The man turned back to Faang Ming, then faced forward again, gripping the window ledge tightly as blades rained down upon his back. Coughing up blood, he implored Faang Ming, "Big brother! Get out of here! Tell Jie for me... I've never once regretted following him, not once."

As San's eyes slowly closed, Faang Ming fought back tears and slid down the pipe. Reaching the ground, he found himself amidst a fleet of police cars outside "Sleepless Town." A policeman, stepping out of his vehicle, spotted a blood-soaked figure but couldn't make out Faang Ming's face in the dim light.

Ignoring his pain, Faang Ming bolted. The policeman's voice rang out, "Surround this area! The rest of you, with me!"

It was past nine in the evening, yet the streets were bustling. People screamed and scattered at the sight of the blood-drenched Faang Ming.

"Move aside! Police!" came the shouts from behind, as seven or eight officers ran forward, gesturing for people to clear the way.

Unfamiliar with Arrowguard, Faang Ming nonetheless knew to follow the crowd. Glancing back at the relentless police pursuit, he stripped off his shirt and tied it around his waist to prevent leaving a trail of blood.

Anyone witnessing the gaping wound on Faang Ming's back, bleeding profusely and widening, would have been horrified into unconsciousness.

Faang Ming's complexion grew increasingly pale, his lips tinged with purple. Despite this, he kept running, driven by sheer determination, refusing to succumb.

Unbeknownst to him, Faang Ming had reached a residential area and quickly ducked behind the wall of a building.

The search party, flashlights in hand, scoured the area. "This is insane," one muttered. "He ran this way, but there's no blood to be found."

"He's probably hiding. A wounded man can't get far. Let's keep looking," another suggested, and they dispersed to search.

Leaning against the wall, Faang Ming could feel his blood soaking through his shirt and trickling down his pants.

His arm was growing numb, his body colder by the second. Just then, he detected faint footsteps behind him.

Peering out, Faang Ming saw the police still on the hunt. He edged toward the corner of the wall, and as a figure emerged, he swiftly covered their mouth with one hand and tightened his grip around their neck with the other.