Chapter 23: The Growth of a Rookie (Part 3)

After taking down Zhao, Chen Zheng's situation didn't improve as much as he hoped. He had eliminated the most formidable fighter in the group, but there were still over twenty men left, along with two experts in hidden weapons. These remaining threats would prove far more difficult to deal with.

In particular, those two who wielded hidden weapons posed a real challenge. If they kept their distance, Chen Zheng had no idea how he could handle them, especially without a weapon of his own.

But after taking out Zhao, Chen Zheng didn't hesitate. He charged toward one of the hidden weapon experts, who had been momentarily stunned by the sudden loss of Zhao. Chen Zheng seized the opportunity and closed the gap quickly. The man, startled and panicked, threw his *tossing daggers* in a wild arc, but Chen Zheng easily dodged, his hand brushing past the man's ear as he executed a move he had learned from Huo Yuanjia—**"Loulán Zhá Kuí"**—a technique designed to disarm and incapacitate.

Chen Zheng's fists struck the man's temples, knocking him unconscious in a single blow. If this had been Zhao, even a technique like that wouldn't have been enough to incapacitate him immediately. The difference between a well-trained fighter like Zhao and a less experienced opponent was significant.

However, Chen Zheng paid a price for his success. As he finished off this man, two *jin money darts* struck his back, sent by the scar-faced man. This was clearly an attempt to distract Chen Zheng, to force him into a defensive posture.

But Chen Zheng wasn't about to let up. He was fueled by a surge of fighting spirit. The pain from the darts was sharp but not life-threatening, and he pressed on, ignoring the stinging injury. The darts had only penetrated his skin, causing superficial damage, but they couldn't stop him now.

"He's injured! Attack!" the scar-faced man shouted. Instead of charging directly himself, he raised his hand, commanding the remaining twenty men to rush toward Chen Zheng.

This was the situation Chen Zheng feared most—the sheer numbers and variety of weapons at play. There was no cinematic heroism here. Unlike in the movie *Kung Fu*, where the protagonist defeats a horde of enemies with effortless ease, reality was much more brutal. Surrounded by so many armed men, it was impossible for Chen Zheng to fight his way through without facing grave consequences. 

The scar-faced man again hurled three more money darts, not to strike Chen Zheng, but to block his escape route. They landed precisely, sealing off the only viable way out.

At that moment, Chen Zheng realized the full extent of his opponent's experience. The scar-faced man wasn't just a brute; he was a seasoned veteran who understood how to control the flow of battle.

This brief moment of hesitation was all the enemies needed to close in. Chen Zheng, unwilling to back down, shifted tactics. He had to break out of the encirclement, so he used his most brutal moves from Huo Yuanjia's martial art repertoire, striking with lethal precision in an attempt to break free.

The remaining men were bloodthirsty, wielding weapons with deadly intent. Chen Zheng felt the gravity of the situation. He couldn't hold back anymore. If he did, his life would be forfeit.

With a single, decisive step, he launched two punches at the nearest enemies, one from below and the other from the side. Both punches landed with surgical precision, striking their solar plexuses. The two men crumpled to the ground, unable to continue fighting.

But Chen Zheng wasn't without his own injuries. He felt two sharp blows hit his back, the impact sending searing pain through his body. One of the strikes hit the area where the money dart had lodged earlier, intensifying the pain. Despite the agony, his fury burned hotter, driving him to strike harder and faster.

Every punch Chen Zheng delivered brought an opponent to the ground, but every strike was also met with multiple retaliatory blows. His defense was solid, but the sheer number of enemies meant he couldn't avoid every attack.

At one point, Chen Zheng found himself forced to defend, his body battered from several hits. These weren't just martial artists—they were killers, each strike fueled by the intent to end his life. 

Among the attackers, there were several with knives. Chen Zheng knew this was the most dangerous threat. A knife wound could be fatal, and he couldn't afford to let one slip through. Fortunately, there weren't many with knives, and he kept a wary eye on them.

He saw one man with a wooden stick swing it at him. Using his foot, Chen Zheng kicked it away with tremendous force, sending the stick flying into the air and striking the man wielding a knife in the chest. The man staggered back, disoriented, and Chen Zheng took advantage of the opening. 

With his fist raised, he executed a **Ma Bu Chōng Quan** (Horse Stance Charging Punch), breaking the wooden stick in two with a single blow. 

In that chaotic moment, something clicked in Chen Zheng's mind. He thought of the iconic move from *Kung Fu*, where the protagonist, Ah Xing, stomped on his opponent's toes. Without much thought, Chen Zheng tried it out. The results were spectacular. 

His reflexes were quicker than normal, and with the additional speed and precision, Chen Zheng's footwork left his enemies no chance to react. Within moments, the four men in front of him were incapacitated, their movements rendered useless.

With this newfound strategy, the remaining opponents started to fall one by one, their numbers dwindling until only a handful remained, trembling in fear. The scar-faced man, too, had vanished from his original position. Chen Zheng assumed he had fled, but after scanning the area, he found the man had moved toward the unconscious tossing-knife user. 

Anger surged within Chen Zheng. He didn't care what the scar-faced man was doing—he was up to no good. Chen Zheng kicked a nearby torch at him. Although he hadn't practiced any specific foot techniques, his strength was enough to launch the torch with deadly accuracy. The scar-faced man didn't notice it until it was too late.

The torch struck him squarely on the back of the head, knocking him out cold. When Chen Zheng approached to make sure he wouldn't get up, he kicked him once more—this time with full force.

The scar-faced man was launched backward, landing on the ground in an unnatural position. Chen Zheng immediately realized that he had likely killed him. His foot had struck with so much power that the man's neck might have snapped.

The remaining few men, having witnessed the brutal efficiency with which Chen Zheng dispatched their comrades, turned and fled in terror. Chen Zheng didn't pursue them. They were no longer a threat.

The battlefield was eerily quiet, with only the three Westerners left, untouched and clearly frightened. Chen Zheng walked toward them and bent down to pick up the small cloth bag the scar-faced man had dropped. Before he even opened it, a powerful, fragrant aroma wafted up from within, a strange but familiar scent.