Chapter 92: The Terrifying Battle

Master Tang turned his face, staring blankly at the dagger plunged into his waist. When the blade sank into his body, a sudden wave of fear that had gripped me just moments ago instantly vanished.

He was just a man—someone who could be taken down. There was no reason for me to be afraid.

I didn't hesitate or drop the knife, even though it was my first time stabbing someone. I knew that this wound only hit his kidney, not enough to immobilize him. If anything, it would only enrage him further.

At this moment, hesitation meant death—for both me and Huang Xiaotao.

So I tightened my grip on the handle and pulled the knife out. Fresh blood sprayed out immediately. Tang's body shuddered, then he screamed wildly, raising his cleaver to strike down at me.

"Song Yang, dodge!" Huang Xiaotao shouted from behind.

I leapt back and activated my 'Dong You Eyes.' Though these eyes lacked dynamic vision, they allowed me to catch every subtle muscle movement, predicting the direction of his next strike.

Sure enough, I easily dodged!

Tang swung his cleaver like a madman right in front of me, but I evaded every blow precisely. Furious beyond control, he let out a guttural, pig-like roar.

Seizing the right moment, I drove my blade through his pectoral muscle, flicked upward, and severed a tendon—his entire right arm went limp.

...

Taking advantage of his weakened right arm, I plunged the knife again into his chest, piercing through ribs and puncturing a lung.

I knew human anatomy like the back of my hand. To me, he was just a living anatomy chart hanging on the wall. I knew exactly where to stab to cripple him.

To you, I'm just pork filling. To me, you're a walking corpse. Pervert versus pervert—let's see who's more twisted!

Tang was already struggling to breathe, glaring at me with fiery hatred. I sneered coldly, daring him to kill me.

Unexpectedly, the trapped beast fought back desperately, switching the knife to his left hand, trying to slash me again.

But his movements had slowed considerably. As he swung without retracting his arm, I grabbed a boning knife and stabbed hard into his left shoulder joint—the blade stayed lodged.

Tang couldn't lift his left hand either. He staggered forward with great effort, blood pouring from three wounds, staining his apron red.

Finally, he dropped to his knees, eyes rolling back, collapsing with a dull thud.

It was finally over. I let out a long breath.

I rushed to Huang Xiaotao and helped her up. She was shaking violently, hugging me tightly, silent. I could feel her tiny body trembling in my arms.

"It's okay, it's okay," I comforted, gently rubbing her back. "Let me see where you're hurt."

I examined her. She had a deep cut on her forehead, bleeding. Her wrist was injured but thankfully no broken bones. I wasn't sure about her ribs—broken ribs piercing a lung were dangerous. I hesitated to check further.

Sensing my worry, Xiaotao grabbed my hand and placed it under her ribs, letting out a sharp hiss—probably meaning it hurt a lot there.

No time for embarrassment now—I gently checked. She asked, "Are my ribs broken?"

"No, but maybe some internal injury," I replied.

"And you? Any injuries?"

"I'm fine."

I had just been kicked hard—probably some stomach bleeding—there was a persistent burning pain inside, but nothing serious.

She hugged me again. "Song Yang, I was so scared you'd die just now!"

I felt warm tears trickle down my neck as she rested her head on my shoulder. Her hair brushed against my ear tickling me.

Though holding her felt good, now wasn't the time. After a moment, I let go and said, "Call 911, quick!"

"I'm fine," she shook her head.

"No, for him!" I pointed at Tang, whose body was still twitching.

Xiaotao's eyes widened. "You mean he's not dead? I saw you stab him four or five times!"

I dialed 911 and started emergency care. His lung was bleeding, chest cavity under high pressure—he couldn't breathe and would suffocate within minutes. This is called a 'pneumothorax.'

I turned him over, stripped off his clothes, and raised his neck. Then I asked Xiaotao for a pen, carved it into a hollow tube, and inserted it into a gap in his chest.

The pressure in his lung released instantly. Tang, still unconscious, coughed up a few mouthfuls of blood violently. He should survive until the paramedics arrive.

I want him to face justice. And I want to clear some doubts in my heart.

Xiaotao looked stunned. "You aimed those stabs precisely, right?"

"You could say that. I'm no martial arts master at pressure points. In that moment, I just needed to disable him. By the way, is this considered self-defense?"

"Definitely. He was swinging a knife at you—that's textbook self-defense."

"Good!" I patted my chest. "I'm really worried when the cops arrive, they'll slap us each with a 'silver bracelet.'"

Xiaotao laughed and poked me. "Even if you killed him by overdoing defense, I'd bring you meals every day."

"Can you cook?" I asked.

"No, but I can learn!" she pouted.

I smiled, but underneath the laughter lurked a flicker of fear.

Not because of the near-death fight, but because when I stabbed Tang, a strange thrill surged through me.

Am I a pervert at heart?

When people hear horrific crimes on the news, they often say, 'How can someone be so twisted?' But actually, everyone harbors a seed of darkness. Given the 'right' environment, it can grow into evil fruit.

Light cannot exist without shadow. Those who deal with crime inevitably harbor a hidden criminal inside.

I'm not excusing myself—I just think knowing one's dark side is important, so the soul doesn't truly rot.

Soon the police and paramedics arrived and took over. Xiaotao and I left the basement. Outside, the sun was still shining brightly—but it felt like a different world.

Someone handed us blankets. I'd seen this in movies—police wrapping rescued victims in blankets—but never understood why. Now I knew: after terrifying experiences, drenched in cold sweat, stepping outside really is cold.

Curious neighbors gathered as police cordoned off the scene. The basement was bustling with activity. I watched as the body was carried out and said, "Looks like there'll be an autopsy."

Xiaotao sighed. "The case is closed. Let the forensic team handle the body. I'm exhausted—my legs feel like jelly. I need to go home and sleep."

"Maybe you should go first. I'll ride with the police back to the station."

Xiaotao smiled. "You're impossible. Let's go."