Top Grade Immortal Emperor in the Flower City

Clang, clang, the clear sound of bells rang out, and all the spectators held their breath, staring intently at the ring before them.

Hei Hu sneered, facing Ye Ling's bravado with disdain, "Your Huaxia kung fu stinks, a bunch of crap. There aren't a hundred who have died at my hand, but there are at least eighty."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Ye Ling looked up, a flicker of murderous intent in his deep eyes. To insult Huaxia kung fu was to insult the entirety of Huaxia; such a person must die!

"Well, today I will let you see what real kung fu is!" he proclaimed.

As soon as he finished speaking, Ye Ling took off running, leaping more than a meter off the ground, his sturdy body twisting three hundred and sixty degrees in mid-air, legs together.

Boom, a cannonade, his legs like cannons, ferociously bombarding Hei Hu.

Hei Hu's expression turned grave, for although he verbally scorned Huaxia kung fu, he knew deep down that there were many strong individuals in the vast Divine Land, and he couldn't afford to be careless at all.

With a roar, he stepped back, his muscular arms crossing in front of his chest—he was going to resist Ye Ling's cannonade dead on; he wanted to test Ye Ling's true strength.

Thump, thump, Ye Ling's body directly collided with Hei Hu, who instantly went from a fierce expression to one of utter astonishment, feeling as though his arms had been struck by a burning cannonball.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, Hei Hu staggered backward, a tightness in his chest and a surge of blood welling up in his throat, which he forcefully suppressed.

"Use all the strength you would for sucking milk, or you'll definitely not be able to block my second strike," Ye Ling said coldly as he landed.

All those around were dumbstruck; Hei Hu had been put at a disadvantage?

The guy who looked like the boy next door was so powerful he pressed down the Black Fist's grim reaper?

Hei Hu shook his numb arms, a trace of seriousness appearing in his eyes. Suddenly he moved—letting out a thunderous roar that echoed throughout the large boxing gym.

Roar, an unrestrained growl that reached its peak, like a howling Wolf King, the air of a wild beast enveloping him.

Whoosh, Hei Hu moved. The leg-specialist's speed was fast. In a blink, he had closed in on Ye Ling, his long leg whipping out fiercely, bringing a howling gale with it.

Hei Hu's legs were strong; he could break a ten-centimeter solid steel rod with a single kick, let alone the leg of an ordinary person—there was no stopping this awful strike.

Ye Ling remained unflustered, standing tall and motionless, his confidence astonishing.

Standing on the second floor, Mo Siqing's exquisitely demonic face showed a hint of worry; Hei Hu's leg was very strong, strong enough to hurt anyone.

Even if Ye Ling was very powerful, could he really ignore such a blow?

Then, Ye Ling gave everyone an answer. Clearly, he could!

Bang, a muffled collision, Hei Hu's face suddenly contorted. He felt as if he had kicked an indestructible blade, as if his bones were about to split.

"Ah! Go to hell!" Hei Hu bellowed, spinning his body, his right arm swinging back viciously. The punch was heavy; if it had landed on the back of Ye Ling's head, the consequences would be unthinkable.

Bingbing, sitting next to Shenfeng, covered her mouth, her eyes filled with terror. She even thought about closing her eyes.

But in the next moment, Ye Ling moved, his hand reaching out swiftly, grabbing Hei Hu's incoming fist.

Crack, the grating sound of bone snapping. Hei Hu let out a miserable roar, kneeling on the ground. Ye Ling sneered, twisting his arm violently, forcibly dislocating Hei Hu's limb.

The crowd was too stunned to react. In just a few seconds, Ye Ling's figure moved like the wind, appearing constantly around Hei Hu, his fists, elbows, and legs continuously bombing him.

Crack, snap, the kneeling Hei Hu was like a live target, powerless to resist, only able to take the beating.

The sturdy ring erupted with a dull friction sound, and even the rubber ropes around the ring seemed to tremble from the invisible force, shaking slightly, which was incredible.

Ye Ling advanced, his fist smashing down hard directly onto the back of Hei Hu, breaking his spine with one punch, and the next moment, Ye Ling drew back.

Everyone was stunned, on the ring, the invincible powerhouse, the reaper in everyone's heart, was now in a dire state.

Kneeling on the ground, covered in fist marks, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, his upper back slightly arched and unable to be lifted, and the eyes that were just filled with fierce murderous intent, were now dim and lifeless.

Thud, Hei Hu's eyes widened as he fell onto the boxing stage, disbelief in his eyes. Everyone could hear the crisp sound of Hei Hu's upper body bones breaking piece by piece.

Hei Hu was dead, breathless, a generation's Black Fist King had fallen, beaten by Ye Ling without the power to fight back, obliterated!

Rich young masters with their excitement hidden in their hearts, were all dumbfounded, not distressed over counting money, but because Ye Ling on the ring was too terrifying.

"Roar! Good! Well hit! So strong, this miss likes such a man!"

"Haha! Guy on the stage, this miss has set her sights on you today, I must have my fill of fun today!"

"Amazing! Amazing! Let those who look down on our Huaxia's kung fu see, now they're dumbfounded, dead for nothing haha!"

"It's okay to lose, young master here has plenty of money, winning is just exhilarating!"

Suddenly, everyone around the ring was boiling with excitement, especially the girls, who were screaming wildly, as if they were star-chasing fans, even more crazy than actual star chasers.

Bingbing's eyes widened, in disbelief, Ye Ling on the boxing stage was like the strongest character in a martial arts drama, incredibly powerful.

"Hehe, young master here won another ten-plus million, tsk tsk, all thanks to Ye Ling's blessing!" Mo Xing laughed heartily.

Shenfeng beside him also started laughing, wrapping his arm around Bingbing and said, "How about that? Didn't make you lose, right? Won three million, that's enough to top your month's salary, isn't it?"

On the ring, Ye Ling stood tall, accepting the worship belonging to the strong. The surrounding people were screaming insanely, and some women were boldly expressing their love without holding back.

"Tsk, tsk, what a thrilling feeling, should young master here come here often to throw a few punches?" Ye Ling chuckled with a sneer.

The atmosphere reached its peak, and the next moment, Ye Ling smiled, extending his finger to point at Jiang Xiaobai, who was sitting not far from the ring.

"Jiang Xiaobai, are you willing to accept your loss?" Ye Ling asked, tilting his head.

Everyone was taken aback, noticing Jiang Xiaobai, one of the four great young masters, who indeed had an unparalleled reputation. Seeing the newly crowned King directly initiating a hostile conversation with him, everyone was stunned.

"I admit defeat! But I'll add one hundred million, betting on my finger!" Jiang Xiaobai gritted his teeth.

Everyone was shocked, all taking a sharp intake of breath, astounded beyond belief!

These two guys were gambling with fists! And they'd even bet their fingers!

Everyone instantly guessed the stakes and their gaze towards Ye Ling changed from fervor to a hint of fear.

"One billion? Heh, you think too highly of your finger, young master here doesn't want money, just one of your fingers!"

Having said that, Ye Ling jumped down, approaching Jiang Xiaobai with a chilling sneer.

"Tell me, are you going to pay up, or not!"