By now Liu Jihao was so frightened he had wet his pants. He truly regretted it—how could he have believed Ouyang Junwei's words and gotten involved in this? If he had merely extorted money from Yang Ce, perhaps Yang Ce would not have done anything; but now Liu Jihao could scarcely imagine what Yang Ce would do to the rest of them after killing Delay Man 001.

How could he have trusted Ouyang Junwei? The man had praised Delay Man 001 to the skies, calling his kung fu peerless and unmatched—and what a fine result. He had been crowing about dealing Yang Ce a fatal blow, and instead had himself been killed with a single strike first.

Ouyang Kanqi was about to speak, but Yang Ce beat him to it. "Oh, that's right—there shouldn't be a next time. Leaving the two of you, old and young, in this world is just creating trouble for me."

"Hmph. Don't think you're so impressive just because you got lucky and killed Delay Man 001. If you've got the guts, come trade a few blows with me!" Ouyang Kanqi gave a cold snort. Though his heart was bleeding at the loss of a prized general, on the surface he still had to feign composure.

"With you?" It was not that Yang Ce looked down on Ouyang Kanqi, but the man's build clearly showed he was no martial artist. Perhaps in his youth he had been a fearsome brawler, relying on sheer ruthlessness, but when it came to actual skill, he was plainly lacking.

Anyone who has trained in martial arts for years can be told apart from ordinary people at a glance, no matter their age—but Ouyang Kanqi was clearly nothing of the sort.

"Fine. You've got nerve. If you're a man, then fight me one-on-one!" As he spoke, Ouyang Kanqi began swinging his arms and legs back and forth, as though warming up before a fight.

But to Yang Ce's eyes, Ouyang Kanqi's movements were utterly comical, and he could barely keep from laughing out loud. Warming up? He looked more like a giant toad.

What did Ouyang Kanqi know of martial arts? That, he knew best of all. Though he was the head of the Hawkeye Group, that did not mean he himself was an assassin.

What he provided the Hawkeye Group was funding and a training environment; in fact, there was no need for Ouyang Kanqi to personally carry out any missions. But this time he was saying all this to distract Yang Ce, to deliver Yang Ce an unexpected, fatal blow.

As Ouyang Kanqi waved his arms and danced about, his right hand slowly crept toward his chest. His movements were natural, with not the slightest hint of affectation.

But Yang Ce had long since sensed something off about Ouyang Kanqi. He had been watching the old man's every move, and when he saw his hand steal toward his chest, suspicion flared at once.

Yang Ce peered straight into Ouyang Kanqi's bosom with his special ability, and there, plain as day, he found a small Type 77 pistol hidden against his chest.

Damn it all—Yang Ce dearly wanted to point at that old wreck Ouyang Kanqi and curse him up one side and down the other. "If you're a man, then fight me one-on-one"—as if his tongue wouldn't trip over such a lie.

So he wanted to play with guns, did he? Fine. Having seen through the old man's intent, Yang Ce reached straight into his pocket and drew out that lipstick pistol of Wang Yanqiu's, then shot Ouyang Kanqi squarely through the heart. Ouyang Kanqi's eyes went wide, his throat gave a couple of gurgles, and he collapsed to the ground in unwilling defeat.

"You wanted to play guns with me, so I obliged." Yang Ce casually slipped the lipstick pistol back into his pocket.

Liu Jihao had nearly rolled his eyes to the back of his head. What sort of people were these, to be carrying guns? Sure, Liu Jihao moved in underworld circles himself, but firearms were still far beyond his reach. It was no surprise that Ouyang Kanqi had a gun, since the man headed a killer organization—but Yang Ce had one too?

Liu Jihao cursed inwardly, wishing he could slap himself a few times. Now it was clear that Yang Ce was a ruthless character. What Yang Yanzhou had said that day in the coffee shop had evidently not been empty talk; while this man had been running the streets, Liu Jihao hadn't even known what he himself was doing.

Had he known earlier how formidable Yang Cenbin was, Liu Jihao would never have dared extort him, not even if you beat him to death for it. Wasn't that just gambling with his own life? And the whole Ouyang family was good for nothing, all bluff and bluster—two of them cut down in an instant, and the one left was probably only a matter of time.

Ouyang Junwei had never imagined Yang Ce would actually bring a gun, much less that he would shoot his father dead with a single shot. Ouyang Junwei let out a grief-stricken roar: "Dad!" Then he turned to glare at Yang Ce with hatred, his eyes blazing with fury.

Ouyang Junwei knew this was no time for grief. If he didn't take care of Yang Ce, he likely wouldn't be leaving here today either.

"You're the only one left, you Ouyang Jun-whatever. How do you want to die?" Yang Ce didn't ask Ouyang Junwei what kind of contest he wanted; he asked him straight out how he wished to die. The tone was certainly arrogant, but Yang Ce had the capital to back it up now.

Ouyang Junwei forced down his rage, glared at Yang Ce, and got out a single sentence: "Taekwondo. Dare you?"

"I don't know that stuff. If you insist on a contest, I can only use something else." Yang Ce curled his lip.

"Use whatever you like, but you can't use a gun." That was what Ouyang Junwei had really meant. If Yang Ce used a gun, what was the point of fighting at all? There would be no fight to speak of.

Ouyang Junwei was also clinging to a faint hope: if Yang Ce would let him go, so much the better. He'd gladly play the coward for a while—it was worth it. A gentleman bides his time for revenge; there would be other chances to finish Yang Ce later.

"Fine, have it your way." Yang Ce found it amusing. So this Ouyang Junwei was a coward after all; he'd thought the man had some fight in him. No guns, then—Yang Shouxuan had no intention of using one again anyway.

Wang Yanqiu's lipstick pistol could hold only two bullets. One had been used yesterday, and the remaining one had just been awarded to Ouyang Kanqi. Even if Yang Ce wanted to use it, he'd have to be able to.

"Come on." Ouyang Junwei took off his coat and gestured for Yang Ce to begin.

"I'll say it again: you make the first move. Otherwise, once I move, there'll be nothing left for you," Yang Yanzhou said.

To be continued.

853. Still a One-Hit Kill

853 Still a One-Hit Kill "Good." Ouyang Junwei was angry, but he said nothing more. Seizing the initiative would be ideal. He was fairly confident in a fair one-on-one contest such as this—he was a taekwondo black belt, and ordinary men were no match for him.

To date, Ouyang Junwei had rarely met an opponent; he was quite confident in his own skill.

Ouyang Junwei still believed that Yang Ce's killing of Deadly Delay 001 and of his own father had both involved an element of luck. Yang Ce might be clever, but that didn't mean he had any real martial skill.

As for Yang Ce having a gun, Ouyang Junwei wasn't especially surprised. What did the Sun family of Donghai do for a living? How could they not have guns?

Ouyang Junwei was also thinking: if he struck first, could he take Yang Puqi out with a single blow? If so, that would be ideal. So after saying "Good," Ouyang Junwei did not strike first; instead he faced off against Yan, contemplating a perfect technique that might finish Yang Ce in an instant.

If one move couldn't kill Yang Ce, there was no telling what other tricks Yang Ce might pull to do him in. Ouyang Junwei was genuinely a little afraid now; this Yang Ce seemed a wily one.

"I say, you Ouyang Jun-whatever, could you hurry it up?" Yang Mo was growing impatient. "What are you pressing up against me for? If you don't make a move soon, I'm telling you, I might change my mind."