Framed

Huo Xuan's fist collided with the elbow strike, sending a metallic shockwave of pain through his knuckles. Only his rooted Taiji stance kept him steady as he slid half a meter sideways from the impact.

The dark-skinned youth grimaced—his own elbow throbbed from the counterstrike, and an oppressive tightness clenched his chest. This is no ordinary opponent, he realized, steeling himself for the fight ahead.

Shaking out his hand, Huo Xuan smirked. Muay Thai. No wonder those elbows hit like steel. With a sudden lunge, he barked, "Try mine!"

He unleashed the Hammer technique from the Nine Fundamental Taiji Forms—a relentless barrage of fists and elbows raining down like a typhoon.

Blocking two elbows and three punches, the Thai fighter staggered as if struck by actual sledgehammers, his bones vibrating painfully with each blow. His footwork dissolved into retreat.

Though the youth was a Muay Thai master who'd achieved the Ming Jin level of power projection, the darkness crippled his precision, reducing his effectiveness by forty percent.

Huo Xuan, meanwhile, saw with daylight clarity—every torque and trajectory of his opponent's moves illuminated. After a dozen exchanges, the Thai's breath grew ragged, panic flashing across his face.

Seizing the moment, Huo Xuan shifted tactics—his strikes now flowed like drizzle, transitioning into the Coiling Silk technique. Just as his opponent thought to catch his breath, the subtle joint locks threatened to snap tendons with every glancing contact.

Methodically, Huo Xuan cycled through the Nine Forms—Sword, Saber, Axe, Vajra, Whip, Spear—turning the fight into a live training session. The Thai could only parry desperately, all offense stripped away.

Below the hill, SWAT teams finally arrived. The commander frowned at Shen Rong's group. "Suspects still up there?"

Her jaw tightened. "We called for backup an hour ago!"

The officer spread his hands helplessly. "Traffic jam. Not even gods could've gotten here faster."

Shen Rong bit back a retort. "Our man's already engaged. Half of you secure the perimeter—the rest move in now!"

The officer's face darkened. "Someone went up alone? Are you trying to get him killed?" He whirled around and barked orders: "Teams One and Three hold position! Teams Two and Four—move out!"

By the time the SWAT units reached the scene, the dark-skinned Thai fighter was slumped against the boulder, drenched in sweat and utterly spent. He'd become Huo Xuan's living punching bag, every last ounce of energy drained.

Huo Xuan himself was breathing heavily but exhilarated. "So this is Muay Thai? I hadn't even shifted to True Martial Stance and you're already done."

A dozen tactical flashlights suddenly pinned them in blinding light. "FREEZE!"

Raising his hands, Huo Xuan sighed. "Friend."

The arriving officers found five unconscious men and one barely conscious Thai fighter—all neutralized without resistance. The arrests proceeded smoothly, the suspects loaded into police vans without incident.

Shen Rong rushed to Huo Xuan's side. "Are you hurt?"

He grinned. "They weren't even close."

"I mean it—you were incredible out there," she said earnestly.

The SWAT commander approached, eyeing Huo Xuan with newfound respect. "Damn impressive work, taking them down solo."

"Just basic training," Huo Xuan deflected.

After processing the suspects, Shen Rong insisted Huo Xuan accompany them back to headquarters. That evening, the entire detective division treated him to a raucous dinner, then dragged him to karaoke. Officers lined up to toast their newfound hero, leaving him pleasantly buzzed.

By the time they settled into the private karaoke room, Huo Xuan was comfortably tipsy. During a particularly rowdy number, he excused himself to find the restroom.

In the hallway, he brushed past a familiar figure. Both men stopped dead, turning slowly.

Recognition flashed—it was Zeng Yong, the man who'd stolen Sun Fen from Huo Guoqiang, the same thug he'd hospitalized for weeks after their last encounter.

Zeng Yong's eyes burned with hatred. "You!"

Huo Xuan merely smirked and walked away without a word.

Watching his enemy's retreating back, Zeng Yong's fingers dug into his palms. "You only took down Hao Zi because someone pulled strings for you," he hissed. "But I've got ways to deal with you..."

Zeng Yong entered an upscale private karaoke room where five men lounged, each with a hostess in their lap. Though their hands wandered provocatively, drawing giggles from the women, their attention snapped up when Zeng Yong appeared.

A slightly overweight man in his thirties sat at the center, his arms draped around two hostesses with a predatory grin. "Xiao Yong! The hell took you so long?"

Zeng Yong approached, his expression grim. "Gang Ge, I just saw him—he's here at this KTV."

Ji Gang—the "Gang Ge" in question—was a second-generation red aristocrat like Zeng Yong, though with far greater political clout. Even Zeng Yong had to address him respectfully.

Ji Gang's smile vanished. "Who the hell are you talking about?"

"That bastard who took down Hao Zi," Zeng Yong clarified through gritted teeth.

Ji Gang shot to his feet, eyes glinting dangerously. "That motherfucker dares show his face in Kyoto? I owed Hao Zi one—this is my chance to settle that debt!"

Zeng Yong's gaze turned icy. "Gang Ge, the kid's got skills. We'll need a plan."

With a dismissive snort, Ji Gang retorted, "Taking him down will be easier than drinking water."

Meanwhile, Huo Xuan had returned to his own karaoke session, untroubled by the encounter. His singing was passable, though Shen Rong's soulful voice stole the show—her performances hushed the entire room.

As the party wound down, Shen Rong received an urgent call from her father Shen Wansong, compelling her to leave. Left alone, Huo Xuan headed to the parking garage.

He'd just reached his car when harsh footsteps echoed behind him. "FREEZE!"

Assuming it was a prank by his police friends, Huo Xuan turned—only to find five officers, Zeng Yong, and an unfamiliar portly young man.

An officer shoved him against the car. "Hand over your keys. We're searching for contraband."

Huo Xuan's lips curled as he met Zeng Yong's gaze. "I merely disliked you before. Now I think you're pathetic."

Zeng Yong sneered. "Save your smug act. You'll be crying soon."

Through his enhanced vision, Huo Xuan watched the searching officer palm a packet of white powder into the seat crevice before "discovering" it with theatrical shock.

"Got it! Drugs!" the officer announced triumphantly.

As handcuffs snapped around his wrists, Huo Xuan remained eerily calm. "You set me up. I'll return this tenfold."

"Shut your mouth!" The officer swung a baton at his head.

Huo Xuan dodged effortlessly, countering with a brutal stomp that crushed the man's nose in a spray of blood. The victim collapsed, howling.

Two other officers drew their pistols. "On the ground or we shoot!"

Weighing his odds against two guns, Huo Xuan reluctantly surrendered. For now.

By midnight, he found himself in the back of a police van, en route to an undisclosed detention facility.

An hour later, Ji Gang and Zeng Yong appeared in a secluded courtyard house. Inside, Zeng Yong asked uncertainly, "Brother Gang, will this plan really work?"

"Of course it will." Ji Gang's lips curled. "Prison No. 4 houses only the most dangerous felons—vicious killers who'll tear that punk apart. Plus the drug trafficking charge alone carries the death penalty. Either way, he's finished."

Zeng Yong exhaled in relief, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Brother Gang always has the answers. I've investigated thoroughly—he's just some martial arts punk with no connections. Nobody will miss him."

Ji Gang suddenly remembered something. "Those cops today were all my men. Make sure to thank them properly later—it'll grease the wheels for future business."

"Of course," Zeng Yong said quickly. "I'd have done that without your reminder."

While Huo Xuan was being transported to prison, the Jiangzhou-bound truck encountered trouble of its own. A black BMW suddenly cut it off, armed men jumping out to force it to stop.

Just as they prepared to execute the driver and seize the jade cargo, several vehicles screeched to the scene behind them. Before the cars even stopped, five gun barrels emerged from windows as a voice roared, "FREEZE!"

The would-be hijackers froze in shock. Seeing over a dozen agile men pouring from five vehicles, they wisely dropped their weapons and assumed the surrender position.

After securing the captives, Li Yunfei kicked one in frustration. "Blind fools—daring to rob my brother's shipment!" He immediately tried calling Huo Xuan, but the line kept failing. A cold premonition gripped him as he ordered his men, "Turn back—now!"