The clash erupted in an instant. The first to engage was Big Xiong at the front. He charged forward in a few bounding steps, closing in on the four men in black. His right fist shot out, aiming for the foremost man. The black-suited man reacted swiftly, dodging to the side to avoid the blow while simultaneously swinging his club in a vicious arc toward Big Xiong's head.
Big Xiong showed no trace of tension. His left arm, bent at the elbow, came up to block.
Thud!The club struck his forearm with a solid, dull sound.
Despite taking a solid blow, Big Xiong's expression didn't flicker. His right fist, having missed its initial target, immediately transformed into a sweeping hook, lashing toward the man.
The black-suited man had initially felt a surge of triumph upon landing his strike. But seeing Big Xiong's unchanged face and the swiftly hooking fist, his elation vanished. He hurriedly tried to dodge the side attack. However, his evasion was a fraction too slow.
Smack!Big Xiong's fist connected with the area near the man's left shoulder. The force behind the punch was clearly not light.
The man's face twisted in pain. Using the momentum of the blow, he staggered back several meters, agony unmistakable on his features.
Seeing this, Big Xiong let out a low roar and immediately pressed his advantage.
The exchange had lasted only a moment. As Big Xiong moved to press his assault, he was intercepted by the other three men. Quanzi, brandishing his stun baton, had also rushed forward. Together, he and Big Xiong became entangled in combat with the four black-suited men at the front.
Simultaneously, the fight at the rear involving He Zhong and Bai Xiaohua had also commenced. The two hadn't charged; they waited for the four attackers to close in before making their move.
The four men from behind coordinated well, immediately splitting into two pairs—one pair charging toward Bai Xiaohua on the left side of the van's rear, the other toward He Zhong on the right.
He Zhong and Bai Xiaohua showed no sign of nervousness, their expressions remarkably calm. Bai Xiaohua evaded a club swing, kicked back the man who had wielded it, then with a flash of his silver knife, slashed at the other attacker. On the other side, He Zhong faced the pincer attack of his two opponents with only his fists.
Bai Hao didn't intervene immediately. He first scanned the fights involving Bai Xiaohua and He Zhong. Seeing both were holding their own, he relaxed slightly, then fixed his gaze on the masked man approaching with slow, deliberate steps.
The masked man seemed in no hurry to join the fray. He advanced step by step, stopping about ten meters from the skirmish, his eyes still holding that unconcealed malice, as if he wished to devour He Zhong whole. However, after watching the fight for over ten seconds, his gaze shifted, settling on Bai Hao.
Their eyes met, a spark of electricity seeming to pass between them.
Bai Hao's attention remained almost entirely on the masked man. The moment the man showed any intention of acting, Bai Hao would rush forward without hesitation to maintain the temporary equilibrium of the battle.
From the brief skirmish, Bai Hao could tell the black-suited men weren't ordinary street thugs; they possessed some combat skills. Of course, He Zhong and Bai Xiaohua were faster and more precise, their techniques and speed noticeably sharper than their opponents.
'Are all underworld figures in the Central Star Sector trained fighters? Each one so skilled?'Bai Hao mused silently. Back on Planet B5, there were so-called underworld types too, and he'd seen plenty. But compared to He Zhong's group and these eight men, the B5 varieties were clearly amateurish—like children's squabbles versus a duel between adults.
Bai Hao knew little about the Central Sector's underworld. Though He Zhong had mentioned some things last night, it had mostly gone in one ear and out the other, as he had no interest and believed he'd never have any involvement with that world—like two parallel lines with no intersection. But now, he realized he might have been wrong. He seemed to have been dragged into an underworld conflict. He wasn't the main player, but he was no mere spectator either.
After studying Bai Hao for a few seconds, the masked man's eyes drifted back to He Zhong.
"Ahh!" A scream suddenly came from the front of the van.
Following behind Big Xiong, Quanzi executed a precise sneak attack. His black stun baton jabbed into one of the black-suited men. Under the powerful electric shock, the man groaned and collapsed, directly losing consciousness.
Quanzi smirked coldly, stepped on the fallen man to confirm he was out, then quickly rejoined Big Xiong, his stun baton poised to strike again.
Meanwhile, the fight at the rear seemed to be tilting. Facing the two men, He Zhong showed no sign of losing; instead, he subtly suppressed them, appearing perfectly at ease. Bai Xiaohua's situation was even better. His movements were incredibly agile, effortlessly dodging every club swing. His silver knife was precise and tricky; he'd already slashed one man's arm, reducing that opponent's fighting capacity by half.
In just over a minute, the tide had turned in He Zhong's favor.
A few dozen seconds later, another scream came from the front. Another black-suited man was taken down by the combined efforts of Big Xiong and Quanzi. Under Big Xiong's cover, Quanzi's stun-baton sneak attacks were almost impossible to guard against. The remaining two men were clearly outmatched. Simultaneously, at the rear, He Zhong had successfully incapacitated one of his opponents and was launching a fierce assault on the other with overwhelming advantage. Bai Xiaohua, with his silver knife, had firmly suppressed his two adversaries.
The masked man's eyes narrowed slightly. An instant later, his pupils contracted sharply, erupting with a malice even fiercer than before. His right hand darted into his white suit jacket, and he spat out two words with a violent edge: "Worthless."
The next moment, the man drew a silver pistol from his jacket pocket and pointed it directly at He Zhong.
Seeing the silver pistol, Bai Hao's expression changed, his heart sinking. In a fistfight, he had some confidence. But against a gun, even the strongest fist would likely be instantly defeated—just as on the star-liner, he could easily beat Ning Bei, but facing the second squad's guns, he could only surrender.
"Brother Chun, watch out!" Bai Hao shouted the warning to He Zhong, a few meters away in the fight. Simultaneously, his body shot forward like an arrow from a bow. His goal was to stop the masked man. The distance wasn't great, about twenty meters. If the man hesitated even slightly before firing, Bai Hao might be able to intervene.
Bang!A gunshot.
The man showed no hesitation. Raising the silver pistol, he fired a shot at He Zhong. The bullet screamed from the barrel toward its target.
Heeding Bai Hao's warning, He Zhong instantly sensed the grave threat. His previously calm, stern face darkened as if covered by thick clouds. However, as a seasoned underworld figure facing a mortal threat, he remained relatively composed. His body twisted swiftly in an evasive maneuver.
A pained grunt escaped He Zhong. His reaction was still a split-second slower than the bullet. Nonetheless, his dodge had some effect. The bullet didn't hit a vital spot, instead embedding itself in the muscular flesh of his left arm.
The masked man's brow furrowed slightly. A cold light intensified in his eyes, like that of a vicious wolf. Clearly, he was dissatisfied with the first shot.
His gun shifted slightly, aiming at He Zhong once more.
Just as the masked man was about to pull the trigger, a foot swept toward his gun-holding hand like a gust of wind.
Slap!The swift, fierce kick connected with the man's right hand. The silver pistol, struck by the sudden impact, traced a parabola through the air before landing elsewhere.
Bai Hao felt a wave of relief. This was near his limit. Covering twenty meters had taken nearly two seconds, and that kick was his fastest possible attack. What surprised him was the masked man's slow reaction. Anyone with even modest combat skills should have had enough time to react in two seconds.
The masked man, his right hand struck, showed a flicker of panic and fear in his malicious eyes. The visible half of his face beneath the mask twisted in pain. His whole body staggered back several steps, his left hand clutching his injured right wrist.
Bai Hao glanced back at He Zhong. Seeing the man was only wounded in the arm, he breathed a sigh of relief, then swiftly refocused on the masked man a few meters away. In a flash, he closed the distance. His right fist shot straight for the man's abdomen.
"Argh!" The man let out a choked cry, doubling over, hands clutching his stomach. The visible part of his face was a mask of agony, his eyes a mix of venom and terror. Through gritted teeth, he managed, "You… you… don't…"
Wham!Bai Hao gave him no chance to finish. He launched a vicious kick, stamping on the man's face.
"Oomph… urgh…" Before the man could react, he was sent sprawling by Bai Hao's foot. A faint shoe print was left on his face, and his previously somewhat prominent nose seemed to collapse. The mask covering his mouth and nose was now stained crimson with blood. Muffled groans of pain came from behind it.
Having identified the man as a dangerous threat, Bai Hao had gone all out. His series of attacks aimed to deny the man any chance to counterattack. What puzzled him slightly was the man's combat skills—they were utterly pathetic. Probably even the club-wielding men in black could have beaten him to a pulp with ease.