Chapter Forty-Three: The Kung Fu Couple (Part Two)

Chapter Forty-Three: Kung Fu Couple (Part Two)

Zhang Le had inherited genuine martial arts skills and had even mastered the inner force, but he was ultimately lacking in real combat experience.

In his previous life, he had won quite a few martial arts trophies, but those were all from demonstration matches. His work as a stunt double was also more about performance than actual fighting. In fact, strictly speaking, Zhang Le had no real combat experience at all—at most, he’d been in a few street brawls.

To be made so disheveled by these petty thugs, who had little to no foundation in fighting and relied solely on ruthlessness and street-fighting experience, was indeed a loss of face for a martial arts master who had developed inner strength.

The big guy among them did have some basic boxing skills, but it was just that—basic. He could hardly be said to have any technique; he was still operating in the realm of brute force.

Taking that knife wound, Zhang Le was truly provoked.

He was angry—genuinely angry this time. Not merely because it was humiliating to be cut, but more so because the blade had not been aimed at him, but at Yang Xin’er.

Previously, Zhang Le had held back out of concern for Yang Xin’er’s safety, striking harder when necessary, but always with restraint and hesitation. He had never expected that his mercy would nearly cost Yang Xin’er harm at the hands of these men.

That surge of anger mingled with self-reproach.

Several thugs already lay sprawled on the ground—some clutching their limbs and howling, some unconscious. The remaining ones, seeing how formidable Zhang Le and Yang Xin’er were, hesitated as they looked at their miserable companions. Still, they seemed to grow more aggressive out of frustration.

Of course, they did not flee, not because they were fired up for revenge, but because their main force was still intact—their boss had not yet spoken.

Zhang Le was just over one eighty centimeters tall and did not look particularly robust. Compared to the nearly two-meter-tall black giant, he seemed downright scrawny. Moreover, during the earlier fight, Zhang Le had always avoided that man, as if afraid of him.

Now, after being cut, Zhang Le’s anger flared. He no longer showed any intent to dodge. His provocative words made it clear he would not avoid the fight.

“You’re looking for death!” the black giant roared, swinging a heavy fist.

As the punch came, Zhang Le didn’t dodge at all. Instead, he struck out with his own fist, unleashing his inner force.

Their fists collided with a dull thud, followed by a sharp crack—it was clear someone’s hand had broken.

To the onlookers, Zhang Le going head-to-head with the black giant seemed an act of foolishness, a stone against an egg, driven by anger. Surely it was his own hand that had broken.

Yet, contrary to their expectations, it was the giant whose hand was fractured; his twisted expression and pained howls made that obvious.

But Zhang Le did not stop there. This black giant was undoubtedly the greatest threat. Once he was dealt with, the others would be no trouble.

Stepping forward, Zhang Le took advantage of the opening as the giant reeled in pain from his broken hand, and delivered a powerful swinging punch.

Bang!

Crash!

The blow landed with full force, sending the man flying into a car at the roadside. The door caved in from the impact.

Blood sprayed from the giant’s mouth as he collapsed, motionless.

The remaining thugs looked at their fallen boss, then at Zhang Le, visibly losing their nerve. This skinny-looking guy had just sent a two-hundred-pound man flying—was he even human?

“Kill him!” their leader suddenly shouted, kicking a thug armed with a steel pipe as if to summon his own courage.

The thug, emboldened by his boss’s shout, roared and charged at Zhang Le, swinging the pipe at his head. The others, whether armed or not, rushed in as well.

But the pipe never landed. Zhang Le sidestepped, seized the weapon with a flourish—a basic disarm from grappling arts—and snatched it away.

With the pipe in hand, he knocked the thug out cold.

Armed now, Zhang Le was unstoppable.

Though most of his trophy-winning performances with weapons had been for show, it didn’t mean he couldn’t fight with them. The staff was one of his specialties. Of course, his true expertise lay in swordsmanship. Though the Golden Cicada branch of Wudang was less renowned than the Dan branch, the superiority of their swordplay was hard to judge. The Dan branch, after all, had only gained its fame through the legendary swordsman Li Jinglin.

With a weapon in hand, Zhang Le’s lethality increased dramatically. In moments, several more were down, leaving only the leader and one other, who had hesitated just in time.

The leader’s face betrayed his fear. The other, catching Zhang Le’s fierce glare just as sirens wailed ever closer, dropped his knife and bolted in terror.

But escape was impossible. Zhang Le hurled the steel pipe, striking the fleeing man’s ankle and sending him sprawling face-first into the ground, dazed and unable to rise.

The leader tried to run too, but Zhang Le instantly gave chase, leaping forward and clamping onto his neck, flipping him to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Yang Xin’er hurried over, her concern plain, only to speak in unison with Zhang Le.

“I’m fine,” Zhang Le replied, glancing toward the spot where Fatty Lin had been. The man was nowhere to be seen.

“He got away?” Yang Xin’er looked over as well, frowning.

“Yes,” Zhang Le nodded, striding over to the leader, pulling a phone from his pocket, and checking the call records. He hit redial.

“Running quickly, aren’t you, Young Master Lin?” Zhang Le said coolly when the line connected. “Don’t bother denying it or staying silent. It won’t be hard to find out who was behind this. What, you can act but not take responsibility?”

“So what if I hired them? What can you do about it? Bite me! This is America, but even in China, what can you do to me?” Lin Xiaofan replied with a sinister sneer.

“Lin Xiaofan, is it? This isn’t over! You can run, but you can’t hide. Wanbang Group, right? Just you wait!” Yang Xin’er snatched the phone, her voice furious.

“You think you can threaten me? Prepare to be blacklisted!” Lin scoffed, then hung up.

Zhang Le looked at Yang Xin’er and asked, “Does he really not know your background?”

“If he did, would he dare pull something like this?” Yang Xin’er’s expression was cold. “Hardly anyone in the industry knows. If word got out, I’d probably have less trouble, but it’d be hard to get anywhere.”

Zhang Le nodded, understanding. Given the choice, directors and producers would always pick the actress with no powerful background over one with connections. Who would want to risk offending a young lady with a powerful family on set?

The police arrived, followed by the show’s director and several staff members. Of course, the press was there too—“Kung Fu Couple Battles Over a Dozen Thugs” made for irresistible headlines.

Especially since this couple belonged to the entertainment world.