Future Masters in Modern Times

Chapter 31: The Man You Shouldn’t Mess With

The man felt a sudden surge of suffocation as he watched himself being lifted off the ground; only then did he realize that this man from Asia was not someone to be messed with. The man’s companions let out a barrage of curses, rushing from their seats and surrounding Zhao Wuji while continuing to rant and rave. Sikov watched everything unfold before him and thought to himself, “Another bunch of good-for-nothings.” “Let him go, you bastard,” one of the man’s companions snapped, still spewing profanities one after another. “Hold it right there. Can’t you see this is my way of showing him leniency?” A smile played at the corners of Zhao Wuji’s mouth as he turned to the man and said, “What do you have to back that up? Go ahead, tell me.” “I—I work for Aleksandr.” The man was in agony; being suspended in midair with his neck gripped was absolutely unbearable. “Aleks? Never heard of him.” Zhao Wuji shook his head, looking at the man with a hint of pity. “So you’ve got nothing to back you up after all! How dare you be so arrogant without any backing? It’s a good thing you ran into me.” The man and his companions all stared blankly at Zhao Wuji, unsure what he was going to say next. “I’ve always been happy to help. If you go out there without any resources, you might end up putting your life in danger. To keep you from running around and getting involved with the wrong people, I’ll just break all your limbs. Without legs, you won’t be able to run around, and without arms, you won’t be able to fight back. How does that sound?” Zhao Wuji spoke slowly, his words seemingly reasonable, while the man was so furious he felt like his lungs were about to explode. “What kind of logic is that? the man howled in indignation. His companions were furious as well—they were the ones who always threatened others; when had it ever been their turn to be threatened? A man in the lead, whose muscles seemed ready to burst, raised his fist and swung it at Zhao Wuji’s head. “Oh? Do you guys want a taste of my ‘kindness’ too?” Zhao Wuji instantly stepped back, raised his foot, and kicked the man from the front of the car to the back. With a “thud,” he slammed into the rear wall of the car, immediately losing consciousness, leaving only the “huffing and puffing” of a broken bellows. This move stunned the other two, and they dared not make a move. Even the man Zhao Wuji was holding froze, overcome by a sense of foreboding. Just then, a dramatic turn of events unfolded: the driver actually stopped the bus, leaped out of the driver’s seat, and, with a look of righteous indignation on his face, snapped at Zhao Wuji, “Let go of him right now! How dare you hit someone? Just because you’re from Asia doesn’t mean you can push us Diliasians around. Do you think I won’t call the police right this minute? It’s precisely because of people like you that public order here is getting worse by the day.” To Zhao Wuji’s surprise, the other passengers on the bus also began to turn on him one after another, as if he were the source of all evil. “Great. Diliasi really is a wonderful place.” Zhao Wuji glanced at Sikov, whose face had gone pale. Sikov was the one on the bus who understood best the consequences of angering Zhao Wuji. Thinking of Zhao Wuji in a rage, Sikov could hardly imagine what might happen next. “You’re right. A person like me isn’t a good person—I wasn’t in the past, I’m not now, and I never will be.” Although Zhao Wuji still appeared calm on the surface, his heart was already raging with fury; it was only his emotional maturity that kept him from letting his emotions show. Zhao Wuji wasn’t about to waste any more time. There was no need to keep putting on a show for these people in front of him; sometimes, letting his fists do the talking was more effective than anything else. Zhao Wuji grabbed the man’s arm with his right hand and swept his gaze across the group of so-called “outraged citizens” inside the car. “I’m a bad person to the core. Today, I’ll show you exactly what it means to be bad to the core.” “What are you doing?” The man in Zhao Wuji’s grip struggled in panic. Without a word, Zhao Wuji began twisting the man’s arm, tightening his grip with each turn, as if he wouldn’t stop until he’d twisted it into a pretzel. “Crunch, crunch!” The man let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered. Under Zhao Wuji’s grip, that arm was literally twisted into a pretzel—even with the most advanced medical technology, it would be impossible to heal it. “Zhao, put him down first. Listen to me.” Sikov suddenly spoke up at that moment, trying to stop Zhao Wuji from going any further. “Shut up.” The words burst from Zhao Wuji’s mouth, causing Sikov to immediately clam up, not daring to utter another word. Immediately afterward, Zhao Wuji crippled the man’s other arm as well. With a flick of his wrist, the man collapsed to the ground like a heap of mud, his chest heaving, his head trembling, and drool soaking the floor beneath the car. Zhao Wuji seemed to have turned his attention elsewhere, but as he walked past the man, he stomped on his leg, crippling both of them as well. The driver’s pupils contracted, and he pointed at Zhao Wuji with a trembling hand. “You… you’re as good as dead. I’ve already called the police. You’ll face the full force of the law. It’d be best to drive all you Orientals out of here—only then will we have some peace and quiet around here.” The driver was undoubtedly afraid of Zhao Wuji; the man’s brutal actions moments earlier had been constantly rattling his nerves. Yet, for some reason, he still chose to stand up to Zhao Wuji. “Shut up.” Zhao Wuji landed a punch on the driver’s jaw, dislocating it entirely. At that, every passenger on the bus fell silent. Just as expected—whoever packs the biggest punch is the boss. Zhao Wuji walked to the back of the bus, effortlessly hoisting the muscular man he’d kicked there, then, on his way back, grabbed the man whose limbs had been completely crippled as well. Carrying two men—both taller and more muscular than himself—he strode to the bus door and kicked it off its hinges onto the street, sending pedestrians screaming and scattering in all directions. Zhao Wuji tossed the two men—who lay in his hands like dead dogs—onto the street, paying no heed to their fate. He then turned to look at the two men who were still standing there in a daze and motioned for them to get out of the car. The two men dared not say a word and hurried to the car door to get out, but they didn’t expect a cold glint to flash in Zhao Wuji’s eyes at that moment. His feet struck both men’s lower backs with lightning-fast kicks, sending them flying out of the car—their lower spines shattered beyond repair. All four of them ended up crippled at Zhao Wuji’s hands! After dealing with these four, Zhao Wuji returned to his seat, glanced at the driver clutching his chin, and said, “Drive.” A look of malice flashed in the driver’s eyes, but he shook his head repeatedly—wasn’t he still hoping the police would arrive? “Fine!” Zhao Wuji cut to the chase, stepping down from his seat. As he walked past the driver, he paused briefly; the driver shuddered and looked at Zhao Wuji with fear. Zhao Wuji smiled but didn’t hit him again. He got out of the car on his own. Seeing this, Sikov quickly followed Zhao Wuji out. The boy who’d been bullied earlier thought for a moment, struggled to his feet, and also got out of the car. Aside from them, no one else in the car moved; some even wore expressions of anticipation, hoping to see Zhao Wuji get arrested. Just then, one of the passengers who had remained silent until now suddenly stepped forward. Dressed in a suit and wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, he held up a camcorder and said to Zhao Wuji in a righteous tone, “You’d better not try to run—it’s no use. I’ve recorded all your crimes on video. Just wait to go to jail, you yellow pig.” ” A savage glint flashed in the eyes of this seemingly upstanding man. He held the camcorder aloft, looking as though his scheme had succeeded. After getting out of the car, Zhao Wuji didn’t leave. Instead, he shouted loudly, “I’ll count to three. Everyone get out of the car, or you’ll face the consequences.” The “successful businessman” holding the camcorder laughed derisively: “Still so cocky when death is staring you in the face? What else do you think you’re going to do?” Zhao Wuji ignored him and began counting on his own. “One!” “Two!” “Three!” “Anyone who hasn’t gotten off the bus yet, just stay put! Never get off.” Zhao Wuji suddenly sprang to his feet, every muscle in his body tensing up. As Sikov watched this unfold, an utterly unbelievable thought suddenly crossed his mind. “Impossible, impossible—he’s human. He’s human, and a human simply couldn’t do that.” Unfortunately, he was wrong. Zhao Wuji, now in a frenzy, resembled an ancient beast or a heavy tank; everything in his path was destined to be crushed. What happened next defied explanation. No one saw how Zhao Wuji did it; all they saw was the bus being struck as if by a speeding train. With a deafening crash, punctuated by screams, the entire bus was flipped upside down. Deep skid marks remained on the ground, with the wheels still spinning on them. The fate of the passengers inside was now unknown. Hundreds of meters away from the scene, a police car was heading toward the area when it suddenly slammed on the brakes, turned a corner, and hurriedly fled the scene. “Let’s go!” Zhao Wuji glanced at the stunned Sikov and motioned for him to lead the way. Sikov snapped out of his daze, hurriedly bowed his head, and walked nervously ahead of Zhao Wuji, leading him into a narrow alley and away from the scene. Afterward, the incident was ruled a traffic accident, and many of those who claimed to have witnessed the truth at the scene were sent to psychiatric hospitals. Some were hospitalized out of sheer fear, some were genuinely ill, and others were diagnosed with delusional disorder. In short, under the deliberate suppression and downplaying by the authorities, the impact of this incident was eventually forgotten in the recesses of time. In the alley, neither Sikov nor Zhao Wuji said much. Sikov had deliberately led Zhao Wuji to this secluded alley to evade any potential pursuit. As they walked, Sikov felt it necessary to explain the situation to Zhao Wuji. “Zhao, actually, I know the Aleks those people were talking about.” Sikov’s voice sounded somewhat jarring in the quiet surroundings. “Hm?” Zhao Wuji stopped in his tracks. Sikov sensed the air around him growing stifling and felt a bone-chilling cold run through his body. He hurriedly explained to Zhao Wuji: “Aleks is actually one of the two coaches I mentioned. He used to be a coach at the Siberian Training Camp, but later left and opened the Aliksei Boxing Gym here. He usually takes on students—people who weren’t exactly up to much to begin with—and under Aleks’s name, they’ve gone on to commit every kind of crime imaginable.” ” At this point, Sikov cautiously glanced at Zhao Wujin’s expression. Seeing that he seemed unperturbed, he continued, “Actually, the passengers on the bus—including the driver—probably run into those guys on this route all the time. That’s why they’re so wary of them and afraid of their retaliation, which is why they acted that way….” Having said this, Sikov found himself unable to continue; after all, the way those men had behaved just now was truly… “So it seems Aleks is the root of all this. Is he a skilled fighter?” Zhao Wuji asked. “Although Aleks isn’t a household name, he once trained a man who went on to become the ‘Underground Demon’ of the United States boxing world—Antonio. That alone speaks to Aleks’s capabilities,” Sikov said solemnly, only to suddenly realize that mentioning this in front of Zhao Wuji was nothing short of a joke. “I see,” Zhao Wuji said, his expression softening. “Tomorrow, take me to meet Aleks.” Sikov nodded, but a chill ran down his spine. Who knows what kind of chaos might erupt tomorrow?