Just then, I suddenly heard a car horn behind me, honking very urgently!
Inside the car, the fat man was driving and yelled at me, "Kid, get in!"
I felt like a drowning person seeing their last straw, and I rushed towards it as fast as I could.
The fat guy didn't stop, he just slowed down. I opened the passenger door, but my legs were a little weak, and I couldn't step on it the first time. I almost fell off.
At that moment, the people chasing me rushed out from the alley behind me, and the one in the lead, a long-haired thug wearing a floral shirt, was actually holding a homemade short-barreled gun!
This guy pointed his gun at my back and fired a shot!
This was a homemade hunting rifle that used iron shot. I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my back, almost making me faint. Fatty had already grabbed my shoulder and pulled me inside!
Then, with the car door still open, the fat man immediately saw the thug with the homemade gun aiming at me. He quickly pulled the pointed screwdriver from my waist and flicked it...
Whoosh!
The thug screamed, dropped his gun, and saw a screwdriver pierce the center of his hand!
Then the fat man stepped on the gas and sped me off the street like a rocket.
I couldn't hold on any longer and finally fainted.
The last thing I heard was the fat man yelling at me as he drove: "Hey kid, don't die! It'll be bad luck if someone dies in my car..."
Is Chapter 121 of the first book, "A Man in the Martial World, Helpless in His Own Way," worth it?
I don't know when it happened, but I felt waves of excruciating pain washing over me, as if all the muscles in my body were being torn apart. I opened my eyes and was about to struggle when I heard Fatty's unusually serious voice: "Don't move!"
I found myself lying in a dimly lit room, on a small bed with white sheets. The air was filled with the smell of blood, and a curtain hung beside me.
The fat man stood at the foot of my bed, squinting at me. Seeing I was awake, he chuckled, "How was it?"
My lips trembled, and I used all my strength to utter a single word:
"pain!"
"That's good, it should hurt." The fat man sighed, then shouted, "Old man, why aren't you coming in? This kid's almost done for!"
The curtain was lifted, and a bald man walked in. He was about forty years old, with a fleshy face, rolled-up sleeves, and a white shirt with some kind of dirty stain on it. His arms were muscular, he was stocky, and had a fierce look on his face.
"What's your blood type?" The bald, fierce-looking man glanced at me.
"Type A." I gritted my teeth.
He grunted in agreement, then went outside. I watched as the curtain was half-drawn, and I saw him pull out two bags of blood plasma from the refrigerator and walk up to me: "We're out of type A blood at home, so two bags of type O will do. This kid's got a good constitution, he shouldn't die."
The fat man glanced at it, expressionless: "This is a doctor. He's going to clean your wound now. Just bear with it and don't move."
To be honest, my whole body was trembling. That's a normal muscle reaction to pain, and I couldn't control it.
I glanced weakly at the man... Was he a doctor?
Judging from his appearance, with a face full of fat and a fierce body, he looks more like a butcher than a doctor...
The bald man walked up to me and started taking off my clothes. He took out a pair of scissors and carefully cut open my blood-stained clothes. Then he gave me a cold look and said, "You're really tough. How many times have you been stabbed?"
My lips turned blue, and I gritted my teeth and said, "Thirteen cuts."
"Hmph, you remember it very clearly." The bald man grinned, a smile that looked quite ferocious.
"Of course... I'll remember." I forced a smile through gritted teeth. "I'll pay them back in the future!"
The bald man then took out a small syringe and inserted it into my arm: "Just morphine. To relieve your pain."
I was so tired that I felt my body getting colder and colder, and my intuition was gradually leaving me. Although I tried my best to open my eyes wide to see the person in front of me clearly, the outline in front of me kept blurring.
I don't know if it was the effect of the morphine or the unconsciousness from excessive blood loss, but I closed my eyes again. My senses began to dull—which had one advantage, at least the pain wasn't so intense. I spent the next few hours in a semi-conscious state.
This doctor, who looked like he was butchering a pig, had incredibly skillful hands. After tending to my wound, he even gave me a blood transfusion... There was actually a blood transfusion machine here!
Then, like a tailor, he carefully stitched up the thirteen knife wounds on my body! I felt like a rag doll that had been torn to shreds, and now it was being stitched back together piece by piece.
The fat man stood at the foot of the bed watching me. Seeing my eyes half-open, he laughed and said, "You'll have a lot more scars on your body from now on. You won't be able to wear short sleeves in the summer."
I tried to force a smile, but my facial muscles were stiff... I felt like I had no strength left, not even the strength to control my facial muscles!
The doctor then turned me over, so I was lying on my side. I felt like a puppet, letting him manipulate me as he pleased, barely able to feel anything. His clothes were cut open from the back. In some places, the blood had clotted, and tearing open the clothes broke the scabs, causing intense pain. But my senses were dulled at that moment, and I only felt my body instinctively tremble a few times.
"Holy crap." The doctor stared at my back for a good few seconds, then turned to look at the fat guy: "I say, Dahai... this kid's got some nerve! Look at his back, it's riddled with holes! Damn, a whole patch of flesh is rotten."
The fat man said calmly, "They shot at us with homemade guns. Iron pellets. Those things aren't very lethal, but they can hit a lot of people. It's lucky they didn't hit anyone in the face! Stop talking nonsense and hurry up and clean it up."
The doctor pursed his lips: "This is a very meticulous job, extra money, extra money!"
The fat man didn't say anything, but simply swiped a gold ring off his finger: "I don't have much money on me, you can pawn this."
The doctor took it. His hands were covered in blood, but he put the ring in his mouth and bit it hard to make sure it wasn't a fake before wiping it on his body and putting it in his pocket.
Then the doctor took out a small pair of tweezers, put a lens over his eye, and spent a full hour carefully removing the iron filings embedded in the flesh from the bloodied and mangled skin on my back.
The whole process took a full hour. The effects of the morphine in my body were gradually wearing off, and in the end, I was in so much pain that large beads of sweat kept falling from my forehead. The fat man was no longer standing; instead, he was pressing me down hard beside me, preventing me from moving.
This guy is incredibly strong! He pinned me down with his huge hands, and I couldn't move at all. The doctor behind me wasn't satisfied, though: "Don't move! Don't fucking let him move!"
The fat man was also sweating profusely and got anxious: "I'll fuck you and see! This kid's got some strength!"
Finally, everything went black, and I fainted again...
When I woke up, it was already broad daylight. My upper body was wrapped in bandages, as were my thighs. My body looked like a mummy, and I couldn't even turn my head.
I was woken up by the pain; those who haven't experienced it can't understand! Even though my body was completely covered up, it felt like my muscles were being whipped relentlessly! Each spasm was so painful that my whole body writhed like a snake.
The fat guy was sitting on the edge of my bed smoking. When he saw me wake up, he immediately threw away his cigarette butt, grabbed me, and yelled, "Kid, I know it hurts, but you fucking bear it! Don't reopen the wound!"
In my delirium of pain, I mumbled incoherently, "Endure...endure my ass! It hurts like hell!"
I was drenched in sweat, and the pain had taken control of my entire nervous system.
To be honest, I cried.
It's not that I'm weak, but in situations like this, the tear ducts are no longer under my control! It's like someone punched you in the nose; after the pain, tears involuntarily stream down your face! Right now, I wasn't just crying, my mouth was full of snot. My face was a mess, a mixture of tears, snot, and sweat. Fatty was holding me down tightly. But the struggle of someone in extreme pain is surprisingly strong. Fatty panicked and couldn't help but yell, "Old man! You fucking come here! This kid's gone mad!"
The doctor's cold voice drifted from afar: "You son of a bitch! Haven't you ever been injured before? Don't you know this is a normal reaction? The pain will pass in a while, just hold him down and don't move."
The fat man, covered in sweat, said, "Give him another injection of morphine."
"That's all," the doctor said coldly. "Do you think this is a big hospital? We're lucky if we can get even a little bit of that stuff."
I couldn't help but scream in pain at first, my voice became hoarse, but the fat man quickly covered my mouth. He said sternly, "Don't scream! Do you want to die?" Then he simply pulled something and stuffed it into my mouth.
I was trembling with pain, my fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that my knuckles were sticking out. They were white!
Fortunately, the pain came in waves, and after a few minutes, I caught my breath and gradually calmed down. When the fat man saw that I wasn't moving anymore, he let go of me, wiped his forehead, and laughed and cursed, "You little brat, you're like a fucking calf, I almost couldn't hold you down."
I was still in pain, desperately gasping for air, unable to speak. The fat man lit a cigarette, put it in my mouth, and said in a deep voice, "Take a drag, take a drag, it might make you feel better."
To be honest, I felt like a baby finding a pacifier. I bit down on the cigarette butt, chewing the filter to pieces, and took several desperate drags. I inhaled a third of the cigarette in one go before Fatty finally pulled it away. Smoke billowed from my mouth, my eyes were fixed on the ceiling, my body trembled slightly, and I gritted my teeth, not uttering a single word…
At that moment, my heart was filled with hatred!
This day was incredibly difficult!
I can't remember how many times I fell asleep, but I would be woken up by the pain shortly after falling asleep, then struggle for a while, and after being exhausted, I would fall asleep again, only to be woken up by the pain again a while later.
This went on for a while, and the day passed. The fat man was exhausted, but the doctor still didn't intervene. He only came over occasionally to check my injuries. His expression was indifferent, as if I weren't a living person in his eyes, but a dead pig.
I don't know the exact time; I only know that another day has passed because the lights in the room have turned on and off, and the small patch of sky outside the window has turned black and white.
By the afternoon of the second day, I had finally recovered.
In the fat guy's words, I made it through!
Although I still feel pain all over my body, my face is pale, and it's difficult for me to speak, I basically don't need anyone to hold me down anymore. Occasionally, when the pain subsides, I can even say a few words to Fatty.
The doctor didn't show up again, and only Fatty and I were left in the house.
"How are you feeling?" He found a chair and sat down on the edge of my bed, propping his legs up on the headboard, smoking and looking at me.
I forced a smile: "Thank you! You saved my life!"
He smiled, leaned over, and stretched out a thick palm to wipe the snot, sweat, and of course, tears from my face.
Then, out of the blue, he asked me a question.
"Let me ask you a question I asked you the day before yesterday. Now, do you still think this matter... is worth it?"
The fat man looked at me with a half-smile...
Book 1, Part 1: A Man in the Martial World, Forced to His Own Destiny, Chapter 122: Choice? No Choice?
Is it worth it?
I closed my eyes, then opened them again, and continued staring at the ceiling.
I didn't even dare to close my eyes, because if I did, it was as if I could see Jinhe standing in front of me, coldly saying, "I'm sorry, Xiao Wu."
sorry?
sorry!!
A faint smile unconsciously tugged at the corner of my mouth, then my gaze fell on the fat man's face, and I slowly said, "I... don't know."
The fat man remained calm, leaned over, and put the half-smoked cigarette in my mouth, letting me take a puff. This gesture immediately warmed my heart.
"I feel terrible." I managed to squeeze out those words, looking at the fat man. In that instant, I felt so weak... so incredibly weak!
“I understand,” the fat man said calmly. “It’s normal for you to feel bad right now.” A hint of mockery lingered in his eyes. “Do you believe me now?”
"Wh-what?"
"Do you remember what I told you the day before yesterday..." the fat man said coldly, "In this world, apart from your own parents, there is no favor that you should repay with your life and your whole life!"
I raised my finger and struggled for a moment. The fat man took the cigarette again and gave me a puff. This time, he simply left half of the cigarette in my mouth and lit another one for himself.
"I consider Huan-ge my father." I gritted my teeth and looked at Fatty. Fatty paused for a moment, his gaze slowly settling on my face: "Father?"
“Yes.” I smiled, but my eyes were a little moist. “My parents passed away when I was in school. Later, I found a master who was the first great benefactor in my life, but unfortunately he died young, and I was unable to repay him. Brother Huan was the second. He gave me everything, gave me a job, gave me status, he respected me, and treated me like his own confidant…”
I recounted my story calmly. I talked about how, back when I was with Huan Ge, he promoted me from a lowly waiter to a high-ranking one, and how he asked me to train with him in boxing. I told him about how I went to saunas with him and even personally scrubbed his back…