97: Chapter 97 The Martial Arts Fanatic from Xia Country

Just as the young man was carrying a pile of food and preparing to find a seat, a foot suddenly shot out from the side, blocking his path firmly.

If it were an ordinary person without any foundation, holding a mountain of plates that blocked their vision, being tripped so suddenly would definitely have resulted in them falling flat on their face and getting severely injured.

Moreover, this kind of underhanded trick was extremely subtle; even if the guards hired by the CFC Fast Food Restaurant were vigilant, it would be difficult for them to notice it in time.

However, the young man carrying the long object on his back seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

The moment he passed the foot blocking the way, he lightly tapped his toe on the ground, his entire body rose half a foot into the air, and he stepped right over it.

What was most shocking was that the tray he was steadily holding didn't even wobble; the mountain of burgers and buns remained as stable as Mount Tai, and not even a single sesame seed fell off.

"Oops, I was walking too fast and almost fell."

The young man's expression remained unchanged as he muttered to himself.

The white youth nearby who had intentionally stuck out his foot saw this, and the surprise in his eyes flashed and vanished, quickly replaced by a touch of malice as he stared fixedly at the young man's back.

Sitting at his table were three ruffian-like white companions, who were also staring at the Chinese youth with unkind intentions.

However, this was, after all, the CFC Fast Food Restaurant, the property of the famous New York tycoon, Bruce.

Even if there were no martial arts masters guarding the hall, they wouldn't dare to smash Lin Tian's reputation in broad daylight, even if they had ten times the courage.

A terrifying rumor had always circulated among the low-level gangs of New York.

Once, an ignorant Italian gang leader brought dozens of his brothers to the CFC Fast Food Restaurant to forcibly collect protection money.

As a result, just three days later, that arrogant gang was completely uprooted by a group of mysterious men in black suits.

As for that gang leader, although he kept his life, his limbs were broken, leaving him a lifelong invalid, and he completely vanished from the New York underworld from then on.

These few petty thugs who only dared to engage in petty theft on the streets wouldn't dare to provoke the legendary Bruce.

The four white youths exchanged glances, casually threw down a few coins, and got up, leaving the fast-food restaurant while cursing.

The Chinese youth didn't take these small fries to heart at all.

He sat at a small round table and began to feast on the food before him.

His speed was like a whirlwind sweeping away clouds, leaving the diners at nearby tables stunned.

He finished a fist-sized beef bun in three bites.

He could swallow a burger with a thick meat patty in four bites.

He stuffed a crispy, golden-fried chicken leg into his mouth; his teeth moved slightly, and when he took it out, only a clean bone remained.

Because the cola here offered unlimited refills, he chewed the meat while gulping down iced cola, and in the blink of an eye, he had the waiter refill it over a dozen times.

In just ten minutes, the mountain of food on the table had completely vanished without a trace.

"Finally, I'm halfway full. Come to think of it, this CFC Fast Food Restaurant suits my taste the best; it's satisfying. If I finish my business and return to my country, it would be such a pity not to be able to eat this again."

The young man wiped his mouth with some emotion.

Afterward, he let out a long sigh, put the long object wrapped in thick white cloth that he had placed on the bench back on his back, and walked out of the fast-food restaurant's door.

"Time to get down to business."

The young man stood in the sunlight for a moment and muttered to himself.

But just as he turned a street corner and walked into a secluded alley that seemed somewhat dim due to the two buildings standing side by side, four figures suddenly darted out from the shadows, surrounding him and blocking his path.

"Chinese kid, you were jumping pretty high in the shop earlier. Now, can you please be cooperative and take out everything valuable you have to pay tribute to us brothers?"

The leader was none other than the white youth who had stuck out his foot to trip him in the fast-food restaurant earlier.

This guy looked to be only in his teens, wearing a faded old jacket, a newsboy cap worn askew on his head, and tossing a sharp switchblade in his hand.

The Chinese youth swept his gaze over the four people around him; not only was he not afraid, but he actually laughed:

"To tell you the truth, I really don't have many silver dollars on me. I hitched trains and walked all the way from San Francisco, and it was quite a struggle to make it to New York City. The money for that meal earlier was pretty much all I had."

"Hmph, every yellow monkey we surround says that. Since you don't know what's good for you, we brothers will search you ourselves!"

The leading white youth snorted coldly, signaled to his three companions, and approached the young man with a ferocious expression.

"Sigh."

The Chinese youth shook his head, sighed, and then whispered to himself in a pure Cangzhou dialect:

"Come to think of it, Li has traveled thousands of miles, and it's all thanks to enthusiastic friends like you who sponsored my travel expenses."

Before his voice had even faded, his body moved without warning.

The speed was so fast that it left a blurred afterimage in the air, and in the blink of an eye, he was right in front of the nearest white youth.

In the instant when the opponent was too terrified to make any defensive reaction, the young man dropped his shoulders and elbows, landing a solid, basic, and fierce Cross Fist squarely on the opponent's chest.

Bang!

A dull sound of flesh colliding rang out.

As the young man withdrew his fist, the white youth who had been struck turned pale instantly; he couldn't even let out a scream, and with blood mixed in his mouth, he fell to his knees with a thud.

Immediately after, he fell straight backward into the muddy water, his whole body twitching violently as if he were having a seizure.

"Fuck! Kill him!"

A gust of wind came from behind; another companion saw the situation was bad and launched a sneak attack from behind, throwing a heavy punch toward the back of the Chinese youth's head.

But it was as if the young man had eyes in the back of his head; without even turning around, his right hand shot backward like lightning, gripping the opponent's incoming wrist with pinpoint accuracy.

Using the momentum to pull and borrow force, he simultaneously swept his right foot backward and pushed hard against the opponent's joint with a backhand.

Crack!

A teeth-grinding sound of bone cracking rang clearly through the alley; the attacker's wrist was instantly twisted in the wrong direction, and the bones of his entire arm were completely shattered by that inch-force strike.

In less than two minutes, the young man was the only one left standing in the narrow alley.

He rummaged through the four thugs lying helter-skelter on the ground and finally fished out three dollars in loose bills.

The young man brushed the dust off his hands, looked down at the groaning people on the ground, and said with a calm expression:

"In return for sponsoring my travel expenses, here's a piece of friendly advice. If you want to live, you'd better lie obediently in bed for the next two months."

"The force of my hard fist has already penetrated your internal organs; if you don't recover properly, you'll be completely crippled for the rest of your lives."

After saying this, he tucked the three dollars into his pocket and walked away from the other end of the alley without looking back.

Walking out of the alley, he raised his head, squinted against the somewhat glaring sun, and muttered to himself:

"Lin Tian, I hope you are truly the once-in-a-century martial arts genius that the old masters back home described. Otherwise, it would be too boring for me to suffer all this trouble to come all the way to America."

This young man's real name was Li Shuwen, courtesy name Tongchen, born in Cangzhou, Zhili.

Since he was young, he had apprenticed under Zhang Jingxing, the fourth-generation successor of Baji Fist, and practiced Baji Fist diligently for three years.

Afterward, he switched to apprentice under his senior martial uncle, Huang Sihai, and put in six full years of rigorous training on the Plum Blossom Spear.

Relying on his astonishing martial arts talent and innate strength, combined with the grit of training through the hottest days of summer and the coldest days of winter, he made a name for himself in the hidden-dragon-crouching-tiger world of Chinese martial arts at the age of only fifteen.

Now, his spear skills and fist techniques had both reached great accomplishment.

In a room, he could exhale and shout, striking the air to vibrate window paper from five feet away.

If he held a large spear and thrust at a fly on a wall, the fly would burst and fall to the ground where the spear tip passed, while not leaving even the slightest mark on the snow-white wall.

But Li Shuwen was an out-and-out martial arts fanatic.

Except for his own teachers and elders, whom he could not fight, by the age of twenty-five, he could find almost no opponents in the domestic martial arts world who could fight him.

Until a few years ago, a rumor from the other side of the ocean reached the country.

Rumor had it that in America, a ten-year-old Chinese boy had easily defeated a two-meter-tall Russian strongman under the gaze of everyone, relying solely on his family's Gu Ang Fist.

This news ignited a raging fire of combat in the heart of Li Shuwen, who had been without an opponent for a long time.

Especially those martial arts masters who returned from America, who described that great battle so vividly that it caused countless martial artists in the country to exclaim in amazement.

Those masters even asserted:

"Although Lin Tian is young, his fist technique is fierce and unparalleled, and his martial arts have reached a state of perfection; he can be called the best in the world today!"

Hearing this assessment, Li Shuwen, who considered himself invincible in the country, could no longer sit still.

He sold off his possessions and resolutely boarded a cruise ship bound for America.

He wanted to see this Lin Tian in person, have a fair and square fight, and see who was truly the unparalleled one among the younger generation of China.

That evening.

When Lin Tian finished handling affairs at the laboratory and returned by car to the Lin Manor located on the outskirts of New York, The Old Butler with a graying beard, Butler John, immediately came up to meet him and respectfully handed him something.

In this country on the other side of the ocean, this object seemed extremely abrupt—it was a Chinese-style visiting card folded from rice paper.

Lin Tian took it and unfolded it; on it were five Chinese characters written in vigorous ink strokes:

[ Li Tongchen, requests an audience! ]

Lin Tian stood frozen in place for a moment, unable to react to who this guy who delivered the visiting card was.

After all, second-generation Chinese immigrants born and raised on this land were long accustomed to Western social etiquette and would never visit in such an old, traditional way.

Moreover, an ordinary person definitely wouldn't have the guts to deliver a visiting card directly to the heavily guarded Lin Manor.

"Li Tongchen... who on earth is this?"

Lin Tian was a bit puzzled holding the visiting card.

Just then, a piece of gossip from the martial arts world that his assistant Willie had reported a month ago suddenly flashed through his mind.

It was said that at the time, a mysterious Chinese youth who had arrived by boat had just settled in San Francisco when he single-handedly kicked through all the martial arts schools in the local Chinatown.

None of the martial arts masters who were famous in the Chinese community could take a single punch or palm strike from that young man.

The young man's name seemed to be Li Shuwen, and he was proficient in Baji Fist.

Lin Tian felt a jolt of energy at the time and immediately realized that this young man was likely the famous martial arts legend in history, the peerless tough guy known as "Hard Fist Without a Second Strike, Divine Spear Li Shuwen."

He just didn't expect the other party to head east so quickly and come knocking on his door.

He put away the visiting card and looked at Butler John: "John, where is the person who delivered the visiting card now?"

"Master, he left the item and departed. However, he asked me to convey to you that he will visit again tonight," Butler John answered, bowing.

As a professional butler who had received strict training in England, Butler John was always rigid and dogmatic.

Before obtaining Lin Tian's permission, no stranger would ever be allowed to step even half a step into the manor.