Chapter 61: He’s Pretending—Hit Him Hard!

On the other side, Ye Xingchen was desperately holding on.

Fighting off eight masters at once was no small feat. Even for him, it was difficult—but not impossible. While he couldn't defeat them outright, lasting four or five minutes should be doable.

And in four or five minutes, Lin Beifan would arrive.

Once they joined forces, they could take them all down.

This belief was the only thing keeping him going.

But just then—

BAM!

An elbow strike landed viciously under his ribs, right in the armpit.

A sharp, searing pain shot through his nerves, so intense that tears welled up in his eyes.

A thousand curses flooded his mind, but all that came out was a single, national-level swear word—

"F**k!"

Before he could recover, a powerful kick slammed into his thigh.

The impact sent another wave of agony crashing through his body, like a high-speed train ramming straight into his skull.

"F**k!"

At that moment, the pain was so unbearable that even his ancestors wouldn't have recognized him!

His reaction slowed just a fraction—and that was all it took.

Two more enemies seized the opening.

One delivered a brutal punch to his ribs, while the other struck him square in the stomach.

In that instant, Ye Xingchen forgot who he was.

His entire body screamed in pain.

His organs ached.

His skin burned.

Every inch of him hurt!

It was so excruciating that he howled, "Damn it! These bastards… they were holding back before!"

Now it all made sense!

These guys had deliberately hidden their true strength just to toy with him!

Otherwise, why hadn't it hurt this much earlier? But now? It felt like every single blow was aimed straight at his soul!

A deep sense of crisis surged within him.

But at that moment, the masked men were just as confused.

"What the hell is this guy screaming about?"

"We barely touched him, and he's wailing like a dying pig?"

"He wasn't yelling this much earlier…"

"He sounds like he's being slaughtered!"

…

Finally, their leader narrowed his eyes and made a judgment.

"Don't be fooled! He's pretending! Trying to make us lower our guard so he can slip away! Stay focused—hit him harder! Give it everything you've got!"

And with that order—

They went all in.

Fists and feet rained down mercilessly on Ye Xingchen.

Because the overwhelming pain dulled his reactions, he couldn't dodge fast enough.

A slap smashed across his face—his cheek swelled up like a steamed bun.

A fist crashed into his ribs—something cracked inside.

A heavy kick struck his leg—his muscles tore from the force.

…

His screams echoed through the alley.

In the end, he had no strength left to resist.

He collapsed onto the ground, curling up into a defensive position, shielding his head with his arms.

And the masked men?

They surrounded him and began stomping on him—

Like they were trampling a sack of grain.

At that moment, Ye Xingchen felt an overwhelming sense of humiliation.

When had the mighty God of War ever been reduced to this?

Even in his past life, when he lost to Lin Beifan, he hadn't suffered this badly!

And now?

He was getting beaten to pulp by a group of nobodies?!

Just you wait!

One day, I'll settle this score!

But for now, only one thought kept him going—

Lin Beifan, hurry up!

If you don't come soon… I really can't hold on anymore!

—

Time passed, though he had no idea how long.

Then, suddenly—

The masked men retreated!

The pressure on his body eased.

Barely conscious, Ye Xingchen forced his swollen eyes open just a sliver—

And saw a familiar figure rushing toward him, accompanied by two police officers.

It was Lin Beifan.

With quick strides, Lin Beifan reached him, crouched down, and lifted his battered body with concern.

"Brother Ye! Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Ye Xingchen's lips trembled, but he couldn't get a word out.

His vision blurred—

And then he blacked out.

—

When he regained consciousness, he was lying in a hospital bed.

His entire body was wrapped in white bandages, like a full-body cast.

Only his eyes were exposed.

He tried shifting slightly—

Pain.

Then he tried breathing—

Pain.

His entire existence was pain.

"Brother Ye, you're finally awake!" Lin Beifan said, sitting beside him. "Are you feeling better?"

Ye Xingchen's voice was hoarse. "Everything… hurts…"

Lin Beifan sighed.

"Of course it hurts! When I got there, you were practically unrecognizable! After the hospital checkup, the results weren't pretty—mild concussion, five fractured ribs, torn muscles in both arms and legs…"

Lin Beifan shook his head.

"Basically, you're injured everywhere! If you weren't so tough, you'd probably be having tea with the King of Hell by now."

Ye Xingchen let out a weak breath.

Even he had to admit—this was the worst injury he had sustained since becoming a mercenary.

His hatred for the masked men burned even fiercer.

And for the mastermind behind them?

Unforgivable!

Lin Beifan looked at him seriously. "Who were those people? Why did they attack you?"

Ye Xingchen's voice was weak and broken.

"I don't… know… I was just… walking… Then they jumped out… and attacked… They're strong… very strong…"

Lin Beifan sighed. "Alright, don't worry about that for now. Focus on healing—I'll take care of the rest."

Ye Xingchen's eyes flickered. "Thank you… President Lin…"

Lin Beifan smiled slightly. "We're brothers—no need for thanks."