Chapter 693: Cross‑Training Strongman

Ling Zhaixing steadied her slightly trembling body by holding onto that avenue tree.

She took a deep breath; the dull ache in her chest had not fully cleared, as if someone had jammed a red‑hot piece of iron between her ribs, and each breath tugged at a lingering pain.

She swallowed the metallic taste in her mouth, lifted the back of her hand to wipe away the lingering blood at the corner of her mouth, then slowly turned around to face the Boxing Gym main door again.

Lei Pengfei stood Inside the doorway, his towering figure blocking most of the doorframe.

He was shirtless, his bulging muscles gleaming bronze in the light; the aura of Heavenly Person Peak still pressed there, causing the dogs on the surrounding streets to dare not bark.

He clasped his hands in front of his chest, tilted his head to look at Ling Zhaixing, a playful smile hanging at the corner of his mouth.

Ling Zhaixing lifted her eyes to look at him; the thin layer of ice in her gaze re‑solidified, colder than before.

"Since it is so..."

She stared at Lei Pengfei, her eyes gradually hardening.

"Then today, let us decide victory or defeat, and life or death as well."

These words fell upon the stone slab Path in front of the Boxing Gym, and the surrounding air seemed to have a segment sucked out, suddenly falling silent. Lei Pengfei, after hearing them, was first stunned, then threw his head back and laughed heartily.

After his laughter subsided, he lowered his head to look at Ling Zhaixing, the playful glint in his eyes deepening, as if watching a child ignorant of the world throwing a tantrum.

"Seeking death!"

He repeated those two words, sneered, raised his hand to pat his bare chest, the palm striking his hard muscle with a muffled thump thump.

"Do you think my cross‑training skill is a joke?"

The burly men behind him immediately joined in the heckling.

"Lord Lei is awesome!"

Then the second, the third, and so on; the sounds inside the Boxing Gym merged into a cacophony of shouts, a chaotic clamor that surged outward like beating drums.

Ling Zhaixing paid no heed to those sounds.

She moved.

Her figure left an after‑image on the stone slab Path as she swooped toward Lei Pengfei.

She did not charge head‑on but angled sideways in an arc, cutting in from Lei Pengfei's left‑rib side.

Her palm flipped outward, five fingers together like a blade, the Fingers gathering a thin layer of true qi, slashing toward Lei Pengfei's side waist.

Lei Pengfei neither dodged nor evaded, not even raising a hand to block.

Ling Zhaixing's hand‑blade cut his side waist; her Fingers struck the copper‑glinting muscle, producing a muffled clang, like chopping a piece of iron ingot.

A reverberating numb pain traveled to her Fingers, and her whole body was knocked back a step.

Lei Pengfei remained perfectly still, not even bending his waist.

"Is that all?"

He lowered his head to glance at the spot he had been struck; there was not even a white mark left.

He sneered with a laugh, stepped forward, and his Fist, whistling with wind, slammed toward Ling Zhaixing's face.

Ling Zhaixing slipped sideways.

Lei Pengfei's Fist brushed past her ear side, the Fist Wind blowing her loose hair backward, the sharp airflow making her cheek ache.

She did not stop; seizing the moment after Lei Pengfei's punch shifted his center of gravity forward, she pivoted, circled behind him, and a palm struck his back of his heart.

The palm's base felt as hard as iron, as if striking a half‑person‑tall Green Stone stele.

Lei Pengfei's body merely swayed, steady and solid, without moving a footstep.

"Not enough, not enough!"

Lei Pengfei's voice floated from the Front, carrying a lazy, smug tone.

"Uncle Master, is this all your skill?"

He abruptly turned, sweeping a horizontal Fist across.

Ling Zhaixing slid along the ground, evading the punch; her body's agility was pushed to the limit, like a fish darting through water.

Her speed was swift, constantly shifting positions around Lei Pengfei...

Palms, Fingers, and Fists were deployed in turn, each strike precisely hitting the most vulnerable points on Lei Pengfei's body that ordinary people cannot endure: under the ribs, throat, knee bend, and lower back.

Yet each time proved useless.

Her attacks landed on Lei Pengfei's body like raindrops on an iron roof, clanging a continuous din, yet leaving not even a single mark.

Lei Pengfei grew more excited with each strike, the copper sheen on his body brightening, the feral glint in his eyes intensifying.

He no longer rushed to counter; instead, he stood firm at the Boxing Gym entrance, allowing Ling Zhaixing to circle and attack him, like a fierce tiger toying with a desperately struggling hare.

Ling Zhaixing's Breath grew increasingly heavy.

Blood seeped again from the corner of her mouth; the internal injury previously inflicted was being torn repeatedly by the intense movement, each strike costing her several times the price.

Her movements began to slow, her steps less nimble than before, and the true qi in her palm thinned bit by bit.

Lei Pengfei timed the gap after her attack when she couldn't recover, and thrust a palm out forcefully.

That palm moved as fast as a flash of light; Ling Zhaixing couldn't dodge, and could only cross her arms to block again.

But this time the remaining true qi in her body could no longer sustain a complete shield; the force on Lei Pengfei's palm surged like a mountain flood, crashing into her arms with a deep, booming thud.

Ling Zhaixing was flung backward again.

This time she flew farther, crashing beneath a street tree more than ten meters away; her back struck the trunk heavily, shaking the leaves loose.

She fell to the ground, a mouthful of fresh blood spurted out, splashing onto the Green Stone slab ground before her; dark‑red blood droplets rolled a few times before stopping.

She tried to push off the ground to rise, but her elbow gave way, and she fell back down.

Lei Pengfei stepped out of the Boxing Gym, barefoot on the stone slab Path, walking step by step toward Ling Zhaixing.

He lowered his head to look at the woman lying on the ground, almost unable to move; his expression shifted from excitement to a kind of merciful mockery.

He crouched, one foot pressing on Ling Zhaixing's back.

"Uncle Master, why bother?"

They tilted their head, watching Ling Zhaixing's hair scattered across the ground in fragments and their face covered in dust.

"With your skill, if you're willing to help me, the whole Jiangnan—there's nowhere you can't steal from?"

They said, lowering their voice a bit.

"I've already discovered that the one who wiped out the Feixing Gang is the Jiangnan Wang."

Ling Zhaixing lay on the ground, the back being stepped on tensing ever so slightly.

Lei Pengfei noticed Ling Zhaixing's reaction, and the smile at the corner of their mouth grew richer.

"If you're willing, I can give you the address of the Jiangnan Wangfu Baoku."

Their voice carried a seductive magnetism.

"We can't strike the Jiangnan Wang, but making him suffer a massive loss of wealth— that's not an easy task, is it?"

They paused, leaned down, and whispered close to Ling Zhaixing's ear.

"Uncle, the Feixing Gang is gone, but the thieving techniques the old man taught you shouldn't go to waste."

Ling Zhaixing lay on the ground, the palm supporting a cold stone slab, fingertips whitening from the strain.

They jerked their head aside, spitting a mouthful of blood‑stained saliva at Lei Pengfei's foot.

They glared at them viciously, eyes rimmed with red threads, voice hoarse yet every word bitten out clearly.

"Kill if you want to kill, no need for idle words."

Lei Pengfei's smile froze.

They looked at Ling Zhaixing's face, smeared with dust and blood, and their gaze slowly sank.

They had originally regarded Ling Zhaixing highly—a young master at the Heavenly Person Mid-stage, the consummate thief of the Feixing Gang; such a person, when put to good use, is an extremely useful dog.

But this dog is disobedient.

A disobedient dog is useless to keep.

The smile on their face vanished completely, and a layer of unmasked ruthlessness rose in their eyes.

They shifted the foot that had been on Ling Zhaixing's back, stepped back half a step, clenched their fist again, and the bone joints emitted a crisp 'ka‑ka' sound.

"Give face? No face!"

Their voice deepened.

"If that's the case, then go die."

They raised the copper‑glinting fist, the true qi in the fist reconsolidating, a cyan‑white light flickering between the knuckles, bearing a force capable of shattering rock.

Their arm swung back like a drawn bow, then slammed down fiercely toward Ling Zhaixing's crown.

Ling Zhaixing closed their eyes.

The wind brushed across their face; the Fist Wind had already reached the top of their hair.

Death is not frightening to them.

They have lived this whole life up to now, still not knowing who they truly are, even the dearest person in those memories was false……

Perhaps dying would be cleaner.

In the instant the fist was about to fall, a voice rang out from afar.

"Who gave you permission to move her?"

Buzz!

Lei Pengfei's fist halted in mid‑air.