Chapter Thirty-Five: Xiao Fei’s Might! The Glory of China!

Damn it, last time you gave me the cold shoulder, didn't you? Well, today I'll return the favor, Xiao Fei thought to himself, deliberately refusing to glance at Jin Wanyu.

This made Jin Wanyu furious. "You—I've never seen anyone like you!"

"Miss Jin, please believe in my husband. I trust him," Qin Tianxiang said earnestly, throwing Xiao Fei a resolute look.

Hearing this, Xiao Fei found it secretly amusing. This little girl is crafty—she's not just encouraging me, she's also sending a message to the beautiful Jin Wanyu: Xiao Fei is already a married man.

Jin Wanyu, upon hearing Qin Tianxiang's words, only looked down on Xiao Fei even more. Married at such a young age, with not a shred of revolutionary spirit or ambition to save the nation as a man should. Fine, if you want to fight, go ahead. A lesson might do you good.

This match was of immense importance. Personal glory or disgrace mattered little—it was the honor of the nation at stake. No one could help but worry, for it was a single man facing the top fighters of five nations.

Paul Novsky spoke up, "Xiao Fei, don’t get too cocky. You're clearly looking down on us. What’s the meaning of having the five of us face you alone?"

"Exactly. Xiao Fei, I, Hillary Barton, am not one to bully the few with the many. Such a victory would not be honorable for practitioners like us," Hillary Barton added.

"Who cares! Let’s just finish him off first!" said the other two national representatives.

From this, Xiao Fei gathered some understanding: Hillary Barton and Paul Novsky at least had some backbone. But even so, Xiao Fei would show them no mercy.

"Since this young man is so confident, why not let him fight? Let's see how strong he truly is. Young people ought to be more modest and realistic," the French envoy's representative remarked.

"Very well, since everyone agrees, let Xiao Fei represent the Chinese team. Should he win, China claims victory. If he is defeated, the ultimate winner will be chosen from among the other five nations, and the Chinese must accept the title of 'Sick Man of East Asia.'" The envoys of the other countries all concurred.

Xiao Fei knew he could not afford to lose. The pressure weighed on him, but as his eyes fell upon the "Sick Man of East Asia" plaque, a surge of confidence and strength flooded his heart.

"Come on—all five of you, get up here," Xiao Fei called, pointing at the top fighters of the five national teams below the ring.

"You little brat, you’re asking for death!" The American envoy's representative, Washington Carey, was the first to leap onto the stage. Hot-tempered by nature, he could not tolerate Xiao Fei's arrogance and charged forward.

Now that the decision was made, the other four wasted no time and followed him onto the stage.

"Your life is mine!" Washington Carey launched the first attack, kicking at Xiao Fei with all his might—he knew he could not afford to lose, so he struck with full force, leaving Xiao Fei no room to breathe.

Xiao Fei didn’t budge. When Washington Carey’s foot drew near, Xiao Fei struck first, his own kick landing squarely in Carey’s abdomen. The speed was astonishing; to the onlookers, Xiao Fei’s movement was a blur, almost invisible.

Thud!

Washington Carey crashed to the ground in plain sight, agony written across his face—he nearly screamed out loud. Had Hillary Barton not caught him from behind, he would have fallen off the stage.

Hillary Barton and Paul Novsky wasted no more time and charged together. Xiao Fei still did not move, feet planted firmly like a boulder, calm in offense and defense. As they drew close, Xiao Fei suddenly lashed out with a fist and a kick. Though both had anticipated an attack and braced themselves, they were still caught off guard by Xiao Fei's overwhelming power—far beyond their ability to resist.

Thud. Thud.

Reeling from the pain, they staggered backward, but Xiao Fei pressed forward relentlessly, granting them no respite.

Behind them, Rhett Brown and Howard exchanged a glance, then launched themselves into the air in perfect sync, springing off the shoulders of their teammates, aiming straight for Xiao Fei’s head. Xiao Fei, already anticipating this, pushed off the ground with explosive force, leaping skyward and landing a foot atop each of their heads, twisting sharply. The two had no choice but to dodge, failing even to engage.

Silence—absolute silence. The entire arena was stunned. Xiao Fei's moves were simply too magnificent! He was the very image of a legendary hero from ancient times!

In just a few short exchanges, the five found themselves forced back, pressed into a corner of the ring by Xiao Fei.

This scene electrified the crowd. After a long moment of astonished quiet, everyone erupted in cheers. The five foreign masters had been trounced by Xiao Fei in a single round. Compared to him, even Kim Jong Il seemed less terrifying—no one could even follow the speed of his attacks.

"Xiao Fei! Xiao Fei! Xiao Fei!" The Chinese spectators roared, thrilled beyond measure. Even those young men who had once envied Xiao Fei now stood firmly on his side—for Xiao Fei had beaten back all the foreign powers, and done so with style!

"You—get over here," Xiao Fei said coldly to the most arrogant, Washington Carey.

Though he feared Xiao Fei, being called out by name left him no choice as a man. Washington Carey circled Xiao Fei warily, trying to calculate his chances.

Suddenly, he moved—quick as the wind, swift as lightning.

Whoosh!

A blade of white energy, formed from condensed breath, slashed toward Xiao Fei, whistling through the air with unstoppable force—the edge of his palm as sharp as a diamond blade.

Had it struck anyone else, it would have sent them straight to the underworld. But Xiao Fei was different. Even if he stood his ground, the strike landing squarely on his shoulder, his formidable inner strength would be more than enough to withstand it.

Clang! The sound rang out as Xiao Fei deliberately took the blow from Washington Carey, causing the crowd to break out in cold sweat. But any keen observer would see that Xiao Fei was merely luring his opponent in.

Sure enough, Washington Carey, thinking he had succeeded, became overconfident. "Damn it, I’ll hack you to pieces," he cursed inwardly.

He struck again, but Xiao Fei caught his wrist with lightning speed, spun behind Gogoligal, and whispered in his ear, "Idiot, let me show you real power—Tendon-Splitting Bone-Breaking Hand!"

With a chilling crack and Washington Carey's hysterical screams, Xiao Fei shattered both his arms.

With a savage kick, Xiao Fei sent him flying.

"Who’s next?" he asked the remaining four, his tone icy.

"I will," said Howard, who had long awaited a chance for revenge—even though he had already lost to Xiao Fei before.

"You? Howard, you’ve already lost to me once. What face do you have for a solo match?" Xiao Fei retorted bluntly.

"I..." Howard was speechless. A man's pride was everything; such words were unbearable.

"How about me?" The British envoy’s representative, Rhett Brown, stepped forward, leaping at Xiao Fei and launching a fierce attack.

Xiao Fei stood unmoved, reached out with a sweeping motion, and with a flick of his hand, effortlessly neutralized the attack.

Rhett Brown, undeterred, threw himself into another assault, his palms slashing through the air like twin blades.

But Xiao Fei was no sacrificial lamb. Gathering his inner strength, he met Rhett Brown's blows head-on.

Thud, thud, thud.

Their palms collided four times, and with a thunderous crash, sparks seemed to fly—their inner strength tremendous, though Rhett Brown’s was clearly no match for Xiao Fei’s.

"Not good!" Rhett Brown realized he was outmatched and tried to retreat, but before he knew it, Xiao Fei was behind him, seizing his shoulder.

Whoosh—

Smash—

"Ah—"

Xiao Fei’s kick landed squarely on Rhett Brown’s waist. "Remember this: never again provoke the might of the Chinese dragon. Defy us, and death will be your fate! Hyah!"

With a sickening crunch, the British fighter’s waist snapped.

Despite the unbearable pain, Rhett Brown did not utter a sound, sweat pouring down his body. Xiao Fei couldn’t help but admire such toughness, and since he had shown some backbone, Xiao Fei spared his life, tossing him aside.

"Come at me together," Xiao Fei said coldly.

But the five were in no shape to fight—those without courage lacked courage, those without strength lacked strength. Not one dared move.

Just because you won't fight doesn’t mean I won’t!

Xiao Fei sprang into the air, unleashing a flurry of kicks—smack, smack, smack—sending all five tumbling off the stage.

He tossed the "Sick Man of East Asia" plaque high into the air, then leapt up, shattering it into pieces with his bare hands. The broken fragments rained down before the envoys, who recoiled in terror.

For a few seconds, the arena was silent. Then, thunderous applause erupted. Patriotic young men surged onto the stage, hoisting Xiao Fei high and chanting, "Xiao Fei, mighty! China, mighty! Roar!"