The man hurriedly pulled the woman up, ignoring everything else, and squeezed out as fast as he could. The people who had been pushed by James Carter snapped back to their senses and immediately saw the butcher knife in James Carter's hand. None of them dared say a word, and they desperately squeezed their way out. James Carter paid no attention to these people and looked toward the police station inside. He saw that the curly-haired young man was still lying there, twitching—breathing in but not out. The police officers had disappeared somewhere.

“Damn, looks like this guy isn’t going to make it. If only I’d used the hidden force of ‘striking the cow through the mountain,’ even those others would have suffered badly.” Having vented his anger, James Carter felt an incomparable sense of relief.

Although the Iron Sand Palm is a path of sheer force, able to split stones and break tablets, when trained to a high level, one can concentrate the power in a single spot, store it without releasing, and control it at will—hard or soft, yin and yang in harmony, water and fire from the same source. Back in the day, the grandmaster Gu Ruzhang once struck a horse with his palm, and the horse died two days later. Such was the subtlety of his power.

But the soft method of storing force, like “striking the cow through the mountain,” is a technique of internal martial arts. Iron Sand Palm is an external art, so it doesn’t involve such subtleties. Gu Ruzhang practiced both internal and external arts, using internal skills to drive external techniques, which is why he achieved such effects. But now James Carter only trains in external arts, so all he has is brute force. He can’t yet manage the softer techniques.

The “Secret Transmission of Iron Sand Palm” doesn’t record any internal skills either—probably because martial arts schools were strictly divided back then. Even though Gu Ruzhang practiced internal arts, he couldn’t include others’ teachings in his own writings.

“Looks like authors back then had some integrity. Didn’t just plagiarize at will.” James Carter quickly shook his head, dismissing his momentary wandering thoughts.

“This is bad, I lost control and killed someone. Better get out while I can and call my mom to handle the aftermath.”

James Carter threw away the butcher knife and, taking advantage of the chaos, slipped through a few alleys and left the market. No one tried to stop him. Looking back, the market was still in turmoil, but he could vaguely see the crowd gathering toward the center—obviously to see the curly-haired youth who had been left barely alive by James Carter’s palm strike.

Thinking of that little girl, James Carter felt another pang in his heart: “Such a cute little sister, and they could still lay a hand on her—if that’s not inhuman, what is? Killing him was more than justified. Otherwise, my ten years of hard training would have been for nothing.”

James Carter knew that people like that, even if they went to jail, would be out in a few years—no real punishment. It wouldn’t really vent his anger. Plus, his Iron Sand Palm was so fierce that once he started, it was hard to hold back—breaking bones and taking lives was almost inevitable. In a moment of desperation, killing someone was unavoidable.

Now that it had happened, there was no point thinking about anything else—just focus on the aftermath. James Carter didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

Woo! Woo! Woo!… The sharp sound of police sirens came from nearby. After such an incident, someone was bound to call the police.

He saw a police car coming from the entrance. “Efficiency is pretty high these days!” James Carter ran as he checked himself—his phone was still there. He quickly dialed a number while running. A string of numbers connected him to an international call.

It was morning here, but on the other side of the world, in Ottawa, the capital of Canada, night had already fallen. In the countryside, at the center of a manor farm, several luxurious villas were connected together, their soft lights leaving not a single dark corner. From afar, the farm was full of flowers and grass. In the living room of one villa, a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl had kicked off her shoes and was lounging lazily on the sofa like a cat. The huge crystal coffee table in front of the sofa was piled high with snacks.

Opposite her was a giant wall-mounted LCD TV. The girl held the remote, flipping through channels as if bored. She finally settled on a channel, and a jumble of foreign bird-like sounds came out—it was the famous Al Jazeera.

“Yawn!” The girl yawned, when suddenly the phone in the living room rang. She picked up another remote and pressed a button, looking at the huge number on the video phone. “So it’s that guy.”

“Bro! You’re interrupting my TV time!” As soon as she answered, the girl shrieked, startling James Carter on the other end. This girl was actually James Carter’s younger sister, Emma Carter.

“Hey, little sis, it’s your brother. Good morning! Are Mom and Dad home? I’ve got an emergency. Huh, you haven’t gone to school yet?” James Carter laughed as he ran, picturing Emma Carter’s lazy look in his mind.

“Good morning my foot! School’s already out. What’s your emergency? Out of money chasing girls again?” Emma Carter immediately perked up and started teasing her brother: “Bro, not to nag, but you’ve been practicing that Iron Sand Palm since you were a kid. Now’s the perfect time for some hero-saves-the-beauty action—you could pick up a lot of girls, you know! But too many isn’t good for your health. Dad’s gone to the US, Mom just went out for a beauty treatment—she won’t be back for two or three hours. Why don’t you chat with your little sis? How many girls have you picked up lately? Any fun stories? Tell me, and your sis here still has some private savings—can lend you a few hundred thousand, even a million or so to spend.”

“Your brother can’t even drive, and it’s a hassle anyway—what girls am I going to chase? I’m in real trouble now, just killed someone. About to get arrested and shot—don’t nag, I’m serious.”