Chen Chuan's overlap time with his Second Self now exceeded a full minute, which was more than enough for him at this moment.
Once the two merged, his running speed became astonishingly fast. In virtually a single breath, he burst right in front of the lead man. The thug scrambled to raise his steel pipe, but Chen Chuan flicked his wrist, and the two stones gripped in his palm shot out ahead of him.
An instant scream tore from ahead. Chen Chuan kicked off the ground and launched into a leaping knee strike. Before the man's cry could fade, the impact rammed him backward through the air, crashing into and obstructing the men behind him.
The moment his feet touched down, he grabbed the man by the collar and yanked him to the right, swinging the entire body around to block an attacker rushing in from the flank.
Wind whistled behind him. Bending at the waist, he ducked beneath a steel pipe sweeping across above his head. Without turning his head, he leaned his weight backward and drove an elbow straight into the attacker's abdomen, instantly dropping the man to his knees.
Shadows flickered before him as another steel pipe came swinging down. Chen Chuan raised his left arm to block. Expression unchanged, he hooked his hand back to seize the pipe while blasting a punch straight into the assailant's nose bridge. The man's head snapped back; he let go of the pipe and staggered backward into the oncoming crowd, clutching his face.
By this time, he heard hurried footsteps and shouting from behind, signaling that the men from the rear were closing in.
Paying them no mind, he advanced straight toward the crowd ahead. Just as he drew near, he stepped to the right and swept the steel pipe forward. This strike naturally channeled the whip-hand force of Greater Sanshou—twisting from the waist, swinging the arm like cracking a whip. The blow cracked against the forearm of an incoming thug, snapping it in a visibly bent fracture, and the pipe in the man's grip clattered to the ground.
His movements flowed seamlessly. Driving his arm through his hips, he whipped the steel pipe back across to the left, striking another man squarely on the knee. At first, the man didn't seem to register the blow. But just as he tried to move and took half a step, his leg buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his knee in howling agony.
As Chen Chuan swung the pipe, his feet never stopped, keeping him constantly on the move. After those two strikes, he had already slipped past. Along the way, two men tried to rush in and wrap their arms around him; if he were tangled up, the mob could swarm him, leaving him unable to bring his skills to bear.
Yet empowered by the Second Self, his footwork was blisteringly fast. He darted right past the two men, leaving them grasping at empty air. Lurching forward off balance, they stumbled and tumbled, bowling over the people beside them into a tangled heap.
By now, Chen Chuan had broken through the crowd. Ahead of him stood a burly man wearing cargo pants. This man had a firm, rooted stance, carrying an entirely different presence. Seeing Chen Chuan approach, he raised the steel pipe in his hands and thrust it straight along Chen Chuan's centerline.
Chen Chuan sidestepped while raising his other hand to parry and deflect. His fingers spread slightly; had the pipe continued along its original path, he would have caught it in a single clasp. But keeping his upper arm steady, the man snapped his wrist in a rapid flick, steering the pipe clear of the grab to abruptly lash toward Chen Chuan's face!
Yet Chen Chuan was faster. Before the steel pipe could reach his face, his footwork carried his body out of range. The burly man in cargo pants wasn't finished, however. Lifting and kicking off his right foot, he twisted his torso backward into a leaning arch, thrusting the steel pipe like a spear with a sharp whoosh. The strike was swift, precise, and completely unexpected.
Chen Chuan kicked off the ground. In that split second, instead of retreating, he surged forward. Ducking his head as he lunged, he let the steel pipe graze past his cheek while driving a punch straight into the man's ribs. The savage force of the blow lifted the man completely off his feet with a muffled grunt.
Seeing that the man still gripped the steel pipe tightly, seemingly unwilling to surrender, Chen Chuan snapped his knee up and delivered a ferocious stomp to his jaw. Shattered teeth flew out amid blood and saliva. The burly man flew backward, head arched back, followed a moment later by the heavy, dull thud of his body hitting the ground.
Pulling his foot back, Chen Chuan stood still and glanced halfway behind him. Only one man remained standing on that side. Terror filled his eyes. When Chen Chuan's gaze swept over him, he took several involuntary steps backward, then simply threw down his steel pipe and turned tail, running for his life.
Meanwhile, the hurried footsteps that had been rushing in from the other end of the long alley gradually slowed, until they fell completely silent.
Chen Chuan turned around and walked toward the group, steel pipe hanging from his hand. Though seven or eight men were still standing there, they shrank back instinctively at his approach, shuffling backward step for step as he advanced.
Chen Chuan walked calmly through the crowd of groaning and wailing bodies sprawled across the ground until he reached the spot where he had first stood. He tossed the steel pipe forward; it hit the ground with a loud clatter, scaring the crowd into retreating several more steps.
Chen Chuan simply walked to the side, picked up his clothes, patted off the dust, slung them over his shoulder, and walked toward the end of the alley where sunlight washed over the ground.
This time, none of the survivors dared step up to stop him. They merely watched him walk away with fearful, reverent eyes.
Inside the temporary rented room, Brother Qi stood by the window, the cigarette in his mouth already extinguished, the corners of his eyes twitching faintly. The man in the patterned shirt had his mouth hanging wide open in utter disbelief, fear creeping into his eyes. "T-This kid... he can fight like this...?"
On the other side, the youth Wei Dong had already leapt down from the building, intending to back Chen Chuan up. But he had only just landed on a wall offering a foothold; before he could even drop down, the entire fight was already over. He stared blankly in the direction Chen Chuan had departed, sheer amazement written across his face. "Hey, hey... is he really this ridiculous?"
From the moment Chen Chuan made his first move to when he took these men down, only seven or eight seconds had elapsed from start to finish. The speed, power, and reflexes displayed were unlike anything Wei Dong had ever seen in someone of their age.
He stared for a few more moments, then, as if spurred on, turned and scrambled quickly back into his room. Moments later, the popping thuds of rapid blows against a heavy bag drifted out.
By now, Chen Chuan had walked out of the alley. He arrived before a four-cornered telephone booth, lifted the receiver, dropped a coin inside, and dialed a number. Once the line connected on the other end, he said, "Is this the constabulary? I'm looking for Captain Nian Fuli. I'm his nephew; I have business with him."
After a moment, Nian Fuli's voice came through: "Chen Chuan? What is it?"
Chen Chuan recounted the ambush. He hadn't bothered questioning the attackers about their background earlier, knowing the constabulary would undoubtedly dig it up anyway, saving him the effort.
Nian Fuli asked, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. I just struck a bit heavy-handed."
"Did you have your satchel on you?"
"I've been jogging back and forth these days, so it wasn't convenient. I didn't bring it."
"Understood. Head home first; I'll handle it."
Inside the Baofeng District Constabulary, Nian Fuli hung up the phone. His expression darkened, and he called out toward the office, "Xiao Wu, get in here."
A sharp, capable young patrolman walked over immediately. "Master?"
Nian Fuli said, "Take some men and head over to Xigang District." With that, he added a few hushed instructions. Xiao Wu nodded, gave a salute, and headed out. Before long, a shrill whistle blew outside, followed by the rhythmic stomp of combat boots marching in unison.
Nian Fuli picked up the receiver again and dialed another number. Once connected, he said, "Hello, Old Yu? It's Old Nian..."
In the four-cornered telephone booth, Chen Chuan hung up the receiver and stepped outside. At this very moment, the figure of the Second Self behind him seemed to have become slightly more solid.
He looked up at the vast, azure sky, completely clear without a wisp of cloud.
Tomorrow was matriculation day.
Chapter 21