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Almost the same moves, the same head-on collision.

The result presented to everyone was quite the opposite.

Yugoro Momochi's right arm, which he considered to be as hard as an alloy after countless trials, twisted and folded in an instant, starting from the knuckles, wrist, forearm, elbow, and even the entire shoulder blade.

It then tore apart piece by piece, and blood gushed out.

The stark white bone fragments pierced through the dark red skin, shockingly exposed to the air.

"Ugh!"

A piercing scream had just escaped from its throat.

A massive shockwave then swept outwards from the two of them in all directions.

The remaining Persian carpet in the hall was blown away by the roots, torn into countless strips of fabric, like countless black butterflies fluttering in the air.

Large, deep cracks appeared on the surface of the load-bearing columns on both sides, which required three people to hug, and cement fragments rolled off.

The destructive force generated by this collision was more than ten times greater than when Momochi Yugoro knocked Zhao Lei away!
It was like a bomb exploding indoors, creating a violent shockwave.

Yugoro Momochi's imposing body, over two meters tall, flew backwards like a heavy truck that had been intercepted, spraying blood.

It moved so fast that it even left a trail of crimson blood in mid-air.

"Yugoro!"

On the other side of the hall, Hattori Kyuzo, who had been observing indifferently, finally changed his expression.

He suddenly released his arms, which were originally crossed in front of his chest, and stepped out with the "shrinking earth" footwork unique to the Iga school.

His figure blurred instantly, like a ghost without substance, and cut into the path behind Yugoro Momochi as he flew backward.

This scene was almost identical to the one where Fang Cheng had just caught Zhao Lei.

The only difference is that the goal has completely changed.

Hattori Kyuzo stretched out his hands and precisely placed them on his cousin's broad back, attempting to use a technique of ninjutsu to deflect force and save his opponent.

However, the moment his hand touched his back, Hattori Hisazo's expression changed drastically.

The remaining force within Momochi Yugoro's body was incredibly powerful, like a raging dragon crossing the river, flowing effortlessly into his arms.

Hattori Hisazo groaned, feeling a tingling, numb pain in his arms and a surge of blood in his chest, making it impossible for him to maintain his balance.

He could only grit his teeth and protect Yugoro Momochi as they retreated backward.

The paving stones beneath their feet, as fragile as tofu, were plowed into two deep furrows, each several centimeters deep.

The gravel, mixed together, rolled and tumbled towards both sides of the soil with an astonishing force.

They retreated a good dozen steps.

Hattori Hisazo's back slammed heavily against the steel door frame of the first-floor lobby.

It was accompanied by a loud "bang".

The heavy metal door frame was dented and deformed by the impact, which barely relieved the terrifying force.

The battle ended instantly.

The hall was deathly silent.

Dust and a strong smell of blood mingled and permeated the air.

Momochi Yugoro collapsed limply into Hattori Hisazo's arms.

His right arm hung limply at his side, like a cooked noodle.

The skin and flesh were turned inside out, and fresh blood dripped and gathered at his feet.

The intense pain caused his muscles to spasm and twitch uncontrollably, and his forehead was covered in cold sweat the size of soybeans.

Momochi Yugoro let out a painful hiss from his throat, unable to even string together a complete harsh word.

Hattori Hisazo gently put his cousin down and stood up.

The fingers gripping the katana tightened slightly, the fingertips digging into the bandages on the hilt.

At this moment, the contempt and arrogance in his eyes had been replaced by utter shock as he stared intently at Fang Cheng, who stood in the center of the hall.

As a ninja skilled in assassination and hand-to-hand combat, he has an exceptionally high level of insight.

But he clearly didn't sense any trace of supernatural power fluctuations from Fang Cheng just now.

Pure physical strength? How is that possible?!
When exactly did this monster appear? Why isn't it recorded in the intelligence database?
Could it be a powerful weapon carefully cultivated by a prominent family in the Xia Kingdom, or a legendary martial arts genius?

Hattori Hisazo's eyes flickered, his mind filled with doubt and uncertainty, a multitude of thoughts racing through his mind.

The True Thought Society members standing behind Fang Cheng, after a brief moment of stunned silence, burst into uncontrollable ecstasy and shock.

Zheng Hongxin's hands, which were supporting him on his crutches, trembled with excitement, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged out from the force he exerted.

His originally cloudy eyes were now frighteningly bright, and as he looked at Fang Cheng's tall and straight back, a tear even welled up in his eyes.

one move!
With just one move, he crushed the Japanese martial arts master who had just reached the S-level threshold in the most brutal and direct way!
This unreasonable and oppressive force is in no way inferior to that of Chairman Su Jing'an back then, and even surpasses it in terms of pure violent aesthetics.

Could it be that... the long-depleted Truth Society has finally found a successor?
Chen Jiandong let out a long breath and quietly loosened his grip on the knife handle.

His back was already soaked with cold sweat, and he secretly felt relieved.

He had maintained his composure in the underground cave and had not done anything offensive to the new chairman.

Recalling Fang Cheng's composed demeanor on the altar, he now truly understood that the other party's confidence stemmed from absolute strength.

Feng Kehai stroked his chin, his glasses reflecting Fang Cheng's silhouette.

His eyes flickered as he reassessed Fang Cheng's strategic value.

What this young man brought was clearly not just the key to unlocking the secret realm, but also a stabilizing force capable of maintaining peace on Yong'an Island and suppressing all villains.

Wu Yingshan, standing next to her, made no attempt to hide the gleam in her eyes.

She clasped her hands together in front of her chest, her bright red lips curving into a seductive smile, her high breasts heaving slightly with excitement.

So handsome!
This nonchalant attitude in wielding absolute violence is far more fatally attractive to women than any power or wealth.

Wu Yingshan's heart pounded wildly, and she couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

With such a strong and handsome man as my boss, I don't think I'll ever be bored again.

As for the guards and middle-level cadres who had just arrived from downstairs and were still unaware of Fang Cheng's specific identity, they were dumbfounded and even forgot to put down their guns.

They witnessed the battle firsthand.

That arrogant, burly Japanese man who treated human life like dirt was actually crippled by a single punch, and was sent flying like a dead dog.

At that moment, the young man in the black linen shirt was completely established as an unapproachable figure in their minds.

Fang Cheng slowly withdrew his right fist, casually flicking away a bit of blood and foam from his finger bones.

Then he moved his wrists around, and his joints made two crisp popping sounds.

His expression remained calm, as if he had merely swatted away an annoying fly on the dining table.

Then he took a step, his shoes crunching on the broken glass and cement fragments scattered on the ground.

Fang Cheng traversed the ruined hall, step by step, approaching the two Japanese men leaning against the door. Hattori Hisazo's pupils contracted slightly, and he subconsciously lowered his center of gravity.

At the same time, he placed his left hand on the scabbard, concealed his body in the shadow of the door frame, and assumed the starting stance of the Iga-ryu sword-drawing technique.

Inside the hall, the members of the True Thought Society, who had just been indignant, all held their breath in unison.

Dozens of eyes followed Fang Cheng's tall and straight back, their eyes gleaming with barely suppressed fervor and anticipation.

They gripped their weapons tightly, but no one dared to step forward and intervene.

Everyone was waiting to see how this unfathomable new chairman would personally defeat the so-called genius of the Iga school.

Click, click.

With each step Fang Cheng took forward, Hattori Hisazo felt the invisible weight pressing down on his shoulders increase.

The air in the hall seemed to have turned into a swamp.

The strong smell of blood, mixed with the intense heat emanating from Fang Cheng, penetrated his lungs through his respiratory tract.

Hattori Hisazo's back was covered in a fine layer of cold sweat, which soaked through the lining of his black kimono.

He swallowed hard, forcibly suppressing the instinctive trembling that ran through his body.

As one of the most outstanding geniuses of the Iga school in the past thirty years, he was able to hold his breath and meditate under a waterfall at the age of seven, and at the age of fifteen, he ventured alone into the Hokkaido ice field and killed a mutated giant bear that had gone berserk with his bare hands.

He has been in the S-class realm for two full years. Not only has his physical fitness surpassed the physiological limits of humans, but he has also mastered hundreds of assassination and ninja techniques.

How could he possibly back down in front of an unknown young man from the Xia Kingdom, showing cowardice before even engaging in battle?
"You Chinese bastards, don't think you can defeat the Iga ninjutsu just because you succeeded in a sneak attack with brute force!"

Hattori Hisazo let out a low growl and launched the first attack before Fang Cheng could get close.

He slammed his left thumb against the guard, and with a sharp "clang," the long, narrow katana bounced half an inch off.

At the same time, he waved his right hand up and down in front of his chest, his fingers flying, instantly forming four complex hand seals: "Lin, Bing, Dou, Zhe".

"Ninja Technique: Four Purple Shadows Killing Formation!"

boom!
A thick cloud of white smoke exploded at Hattori Kyuzo's feet, instantly obscuring everyone's view.

Immediately afterwards, four sharp, tearing sounds, like ripping through a curtain, echoed through the air.

The white smoke was forcibly dispersed by the rapidly moving body.

Four identical Hattori Kyuzos, each wielding a sharp samurai sword, simultaneously attacked Fang Cheng, who was positioned in the center, from four directions: front, back, left, and right.

There was no lingering sense of sluggishness or afterimage.

These four figures seemed to be solid entities, with the same breathing rate, the same body temperature, and even the same wind pressure generated when the blades slashed.

They formed a cross-shaped attack formation, completely blocking all of Fang Cheng's escape routes.

Seeing this, Zheng Hongxin, who was watching from the back, felt a sudden jolt in his heart, and his palms, which were gripping his cane, were covered in sweat.

He had witnessed the power of this move firsthand.

Back in the day on the high seas, Kenji Hattori, who was crippled by Chairman Su, also used a similar shadow clone attack.

If it weren't for Chairman Su's intervention, Zheng Hongxin would probably have been cut in two.

Hattori Hisazo, now mixed in with his clones, curled a cruel smile at the corner of his mouth.

Three years ago, he used this "Four Purple Shadow Killing Formation" to assassinate a target under military protection in Bangkok, instantly shredding the tycoon sitting in his car.

No matter how strong this Xia Guoren is, as long as these four katana swords, some real and some fake, hit the target simultaneously, even an armored vehicle will be dismantled.

However, Fang Cheng remained unusually calm and composed in the face of this airtight killing formation.

He stopped and stood still, watching as four samurai swords, gleaming with a cold light, came crashing down on him.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Four crisp metallic clanging sounds rang out almost simultaneously, causing the nearest young guards to cover their ears and crouch down in pain.

Four samurai swords slashed at Fang Cheng's back of the head, carotid artery, left ribs, and back of the heart, respectively.

The blade tore through Fang Cheng's ordinary linen shirt, but could not go any further.

There was no gushing blood, no separation of flesh and bone.

Hattori Hisazo felt a violent tremor in his hand, as if his katana had struck an indestructible wall of bronze and iron.

He looked closely and saw that Fang Cheng's exposed skin had turned golden, with a faint glow emanating from it.

The golden light, though seemingly faint, was like a solid suit of armor, completely blocking the sharp blades.

"An indestructible body?!"

Hattori Hisazo gasped in surprise, his eyes filled with astonishment.

In modern society, how could anyone possibly have mastered such a basic martial art that only exists in ancient books and legends to this extent?

He can even ignore the full-force strike of an S-class expert like himself?

Seeing this scene, Zheng Hongxin, Chen Jiandong, and the others finally felt relieved, replaced by an overwhelming sense of excitement.

The president is ridiculously strong!
Fang Cheng turned his head slightly, glanced at the blade that had slashed his shoulder, and a mocking smile appeared on his lips.

"If that's all you've got, then I'm going to retaliate."

Upon hearing this, Hattori Hisazo's eyelids twitched violently, and a strong sense of crisis made the hairs on his body stand on end.

Without hesitation, he changed tactics, flicked his right wrist, and a black pill popped out from the end of the knife hilt, hitting Fang Cheng's feet.

boom!
A pungent black smoke burst open instantly, obscuring Fang Cheng's vision, and carrying a strong neurotoxin.

Under the cover of thick smoke, one of Hattori Hisazo's clones suddenly launched an attack.

He gripped the hilt of the knife tightly with both hands, concentrating all his strength on the tip, like a venomous snake emerging from its hole, aiming straight for Fang Cheng's most vulnerable eye.

This is the most insidious and ruthless assassination technique of the Iga school, "Poison Dragon Drill".

The tip of the knife was less than three centimeters away from Fang Cheng's pupils, and Hattori Hisazo could even see the trembling of Fang Cheng's eyelashes.

The overwhelming joy of impending success surged into his heart.

Snapped.

A crisp sound pierced through the smoke.

Two long, slender, white fingers, which had somehow appeared in mid-air, gripped the blade of the samurai sword with unparalleled precision, like hydraulic clamps made of iron.

Seeing this, Hattori Hisazo's arm muscles bulged, and he launched another attack.

He tried desperately to push the blade forward even a millimeter, but found that the blade was as if it were embedded in a titanium alloy base, and wouldn't budge.

"This knife looks good, it's a pity it has the wrong master."

Fang Cheng's calm voice rang out through the smoke.

Immediately afterwards, the two fingers that were gripping the blade twisted to the right in a seemingly casual manner.

crunch--

A sickening metallic creaking sound rang out. (End of Chapter)