Barehanded Combat

The intense pain in his leg forced the man who had tried to kick to stumble back, but the second punch already landed hard on Hou Rui’s eye socket. The sudden agony made it impossible for Hou Rui to open his eyes, tears and blood from his nose streaming down together. Immediately after, Hou Rui felt someone grab his collar—likely the same man, ready to press the advantage with a third punch. Hou Rui understood this perfectly, but his hands were powerless to resist; he was still clutching another man’s wrist with all his strength. If Hou Rui dared let go now, the spring-loaded knife would pierce his belly without a moment’s hesitation.

As expected, the third punch landed, knocking Hou Rui’s nose askew. The pain now was not just physical; a numbing, unbearable sensation surged straight to his brain, driving Hou Rui into a frenzy. With a wild cry, Hou Rui wrenched the wrist he was holding downward, skillfully twisting both hands to clamp from above. Using the difference in height and the angle of the opponent’s wrist, he snapped the wrist holding the spring knife, breaking it cleanly.

Freed from the deadly threat, Hou Rui turned on the man who had been punching him. Before the fourth blow could come, Hou Rui launched forward with a swift headbutt, smashing directly into the man's face and sending him staggering backward. Unfortunately, the enemies surrounding them were too many; as Hou Rui tried to pursue, the man whose leg had been injured earlier lunged back, aiming a flying kick at Hou Rui’s chest.

Dodging by a hair’s breadth, what could have been a rib-breaking kick slammed into the door instead. In the next instant, Hou Rui grabbed the attacker’s thigh, reached for his other ankle, and pinned him to the ground. After enduring so many blows, Hou Rui finally had a target for his anger—he mounted the man and rained punch after punch down upon him.

The number of n-gang members in the room dwindled rapidly. Jin Yongchan, clutching Jin Yonghwan’s corpse, grew desperate. He snatched up a pistol and fired at the furious Hou Rui. The bullet grazed Hou Rui’s hair, instantly dispelling his blind rage. As Jin Yongchan fired a second shot, Hou Rui dove forward, rolling to hide behind a sofa.

Deprived of his target, Jin Yonghwan turned his gun toward Old Xiao. Old Xiao’s response was simpler; he dragged an n-gang underling in front of himself as a shield. Four shots rang out, making the sacrificial victim’s body jerk violently, but Old Xiao seized the opportunity to push the shield right up to Jin Yongchan. Just as Old Xiao was about to shove the shield aside to finish his remaining task, a tall, thin n-gang member snatched a decorative Japanese katana from the wall. With both hands raised overhead, he swung it down in a classic kendo high-strike.

The long, sharp katana was nothing like a bullet; if it landed, even with a shield in front, Old Xiao would not be safe. Old Xiao chose to retreat, shoving the shield forward and nimbly dodging to one side.

The flashing katana sliced through the shield’s body, and from behind the sofa, Hou Rui saw the victim’s torso split cleanly from left shoulder to right hip. Bones and muscles offered no resistance; intestines spilled across the floor, and the man was cut into two pieces without even uttering a scream.

Old Xiao, a seasoned veteran, wasted no time. While Hou Rui was still stunned by the sight of viscera and blood, Old Xiao grabbed a slender iron pipe and confronted the katana, charging forward with unstoppable momentum.

The katana wielder licked his lips and sneered, raising his blade overhead for another heavy strike, aiming to cleave Old Xiao in two. “The shortest distance between two points is a straight line!” Old Xiao shouted as the blade descended. He thrust the iron pipe forward with both arms, piercing the tall man’s right eye with uncanny precision.

The two passed each other; Old Xiao rushed straight toward Jin Yongchan, while the tall man stood dazed, iron pipe lodged in his eye. Blood dripped from the pipe, and the man finally released the katana, collapsed to his knees, and died in that eerie pose, supported by the pipe, never fully falling.

Only two underlings remained by Jin Yongchan’s side, but his pistol was out of bullets. As Old Xiao approached step by step, Jin Yongchan retreated, babbling loudly in Korean, but Old Xiao neither understood nor cared.

Suddenly, the n-gang member whom Hou Rui had headbutted rushed for the door. Hou Rui, seeing this, dove from behind the sofa to intercept him. No words were exchanged; the man swung a punch at Hou Rui’s nose. Hou Rui dodged, but the man seized the door handle, about to escape. Hou Rui shouted and slammed the man’s head against the door with all his strength.

Once wasn’t enough; the man kept struggling. So Hou Rui did it again, and again, until the n-gang member’s brains were splattered across the door.

Old Xiao watched Hou Rui’s actions with admiration, then swiftly dodged another punch, leaned in, and delivered a vicious elbow to the attacker’s back, causing him to cough blood and collapse.

The last n-gang member was pulled by Jin Yongchan to serve as a shield. Old Xiao seized the opportunity, grabbed the man's tie, spun him around like a dog, then twisted his arm and tie over his shoulder, squatted, and quickly stood again, suspending the man by his neck over his shoulder.

With his neck squeezed, the last n-gang member struggled briefly before falling still. Only Jin Yongchan remained, facing Old Xiao, the harbinger of death.

“Don’t kill me!” he pleaded in broken English. Hou Rui was about to mimic a movie line—something like, “Don’t blame me, someone paid for your life”—but Old Xiao’s hand shot out, his palm landing precisely on Jin Yongchan’s throat. As Jin Yongchan, unable to breathe, knelt, Old Xiao slipped behind him, twisted his arms, and snapped his neck.

In less than three minutes, a dozen strong men had been turned into corpses by just two people—mostly Old Xiao. As the adrenaline and bloodlust faded, Hou Rui looked at the sticky blood on the floor, listened to faint sounds of struggle, and realized Old Xiao’s method of killing was far more brutal than using a gun. Hou Rui’s throat itched, his stomach churned, and an uncontrollable nausea threatened to make him vomit.

“Hold it in!” Old Xiao suddenly turned, his unfocused eyes terrifying beyond words. Being stared at by him was like being watched by Death; his cold tone was full of menace. Hou Rui remembered: this man, who usually joked around, was someone even Ding Ye dared not provoke. If he really threw up here, Old Xiao would kill him without hesitation.

Survival was the strongest motivation. Hou Rui forced himself to suppress the nausea, swallowing everything that threatened to rise, then carefully returned to his post by the door.

Old Xiao finally stopped staring at Hou Rui. He finished off the remaining n-gang members who were still breathing, simply stomping hard on their necks. Once the room no longer echoed with the sound of breaking vertebrae, Old Xiao confirmed there were no survivors left. Before leaving, he took a goose-egg-sized metal sphere from his pocket and tossed it onto the blood-soaked floor.

About twenty-three seconds later, tiny holes appeared around the sphere, and a gray, unidentified gas sprayed out, quickly filling the entire room. Satisfied at last, Old Xiao closed the door and left the nightclub with Hou Rui.

Before returning to the Lovers’ Motel, Old Xiao led Hou Rui to the parking lot, where he had somehow prepared a change of clothes in the Hyundai. After stowing away their bloodstained garments and shoes, they returned to the motel and their respective rooms. Soon, Hou Rui heard the vigorous sounds of a couple next door.

Before dawn, on the banks of the Han River in Seoul, a few vagrants gathered around homemade barrel fires for warmth, while Hou Rui and Old Xiao watched from their car. After distracting the vagrants with a few bottles of soju, Hou Rui burned their bloodstained clothes and shoes, preparing to return to the folk hotel.

“You did well last night. Even during fierce fighting, you kept your wits and noticed when the enemy drew a gun,” Old Xiao, now calm and devoid of his bloodthirsty persona, remarked.

“Mm, I’m not used to fighting empty-handed. I prefer using a gun,” Hou Rui replied quietly.

“Often, a gun is restricted, but your fists and feet are always your most convenient weapons.”

Hou Rui pondered Old Xiao’s words carefully.

“Do you know why I’m looking for those two girls?” Without waiting for Hou Rui’s reply, Old Xiao continued…