In just a moment, Brian Smith's scapula let out a groan, almost crushed.

　　Bang!

　　Ignoring the intense pain in his shoulder, Brian Smith threw a punch at the young man's face.

　　"You're too inexperienced."

　　The young man grabbed Brian Smith's shoulder with one hand, suddenly raised the other, spread his five fingers, and blocked Brian Smith's punch.

　　"Inexperienced?"

　　Brian Smith spat out a mouthful of bloody foam, stomped hard with a burst of force, the power surging up through his body to his shoulder and elbow.

　　At the same time, his arm bent and stretched, following the force the young man was pulling, and he delivered a flat elbow strike to the young man's chest.

　　A full-force move, six powers combined.

　　Bajiquan—Elbow to the Heart!

Chapter 10: Invulnerable to Gods, Begging for the Dao

　　As the saying goes, better to take ten punches than one elbow!

　　In Bajiquan, the fist replaces the spear, the elbow is the spear tip!

　　Combining all of Brian Smith's strength, and using the explosive force of a grandmaster at the Dan stage like Benjamin Martinez, this elbow to the heart was ferocious.

　　Bang!

　　With a dull thud of flesh colliding, the young man's chest instantly caved in, his back arched high, his eyes visibly bloodshot, and surging blood burst from his seven orifices!

　　"Ah! I'll kill you!"

　　Yet even so, the young man still didn't let go. His five fingers tightened, and with a crack, pierced through Brian Smith's scapula, dragging him to the ground and knocking over two display stands.

　　Crash—

　　Amid the shattered glass of the display stands, the two continued to grapple.

　　Bang!!

　　Brian Smith's crushed shoulder twisted, using flesh and blood to lock the young man's fingers, while his right hand gripped the other hand tightly, and his knee slammed hard into the young man's abdomen.

　　"Ugh!"

　　Taking this blow, the young man finally couldn't hold on, spewing a mouthful of blood all over Brian Smith's head and face, and fainted from the pain.

　　Rip—

　　Brian Smith struggled to his feet, tore off the young man's work uniform, wiped the sticky blood from his face, and looked down at the young man's twisted features, still shaken.

　　"Where did this savage come from?"

　　Brian Smith clutched his left shoulder, blood streaming from five finger holes.

　　This young man used military grappling techniques and fought fiercely. If he hadn't been trying to capture Brian Smith alive and lost the initiative, Brian Smith would have had little chance of winning.

　　Glancing at his shattered, black-screened phone, Brian Smith bent down to search the young man's body, but found nothing to identify him.

　　Fortunately, his phone was sturdy—though the screen was broken, it still worked.

　　Just as Brian Smith was about to call his father, the phone suddenly lit up with an unknown number, no name displayed.

　　He hesitated for two seconds, then hung up.

　　"What? You were attacked, and they used the military's Eagle Claw grappling technique?"

　　On the other end, Matthew Smith was so shocked he jumped up:

　　"Wait there, I'll be right over!"

　　Beep beep beep—

　　Casually tossing aside the disconnected phone, Brian Smith leaned against a display stand, began picking glass shards off himself, and took stock of his injuries.

　　Long illness doesn't make a doctor, but most martial artists know a bit of medicine.

　　Left shoulder: scapula shattered, humerus damaged, collarbone probably fractured...

　　When Matthew Smith rushed over and saw his son covered in blood, his hands trembled with heartache.

　　"That bastard!"

　　Looking at the unconscious young man at his feet, Matthew Smith wanted nothing more than to stomp his head in.

　　"What exactly happened?"

　　Brian Smith, his shoulder wrapped in his own clothes, walked over and briefly recounted what had happened.

　　Matthew Smith listened, heart pounding—he'd experienced similar things himself, so he knew just how dangerous that fight had been.

　　Crack!

　　The six-foot-three man stomped and broke both of the unconscious young man's scapulae, then took out special alloy handcuffs and cuffed him.

　　Matthew Smith lifted the young man with one hand, his expression serious:

　　"This isn't something that can be explained in a few words. Come with me. The martial arts hall is under lockdown—I can't even get out."

　　Brian Smith nodded. Though his injuries were severe, they weren't fatal. Knowing the urgency, he followed to the second floor of the martial arts hall.

　　On the second floor, there were quite a few people scattered about.

　　Brian Smith glanced around and saw that more than half were in uniform—Xingcheng Law Enforcement Team. The rest, in regular clothes, were probably from the Shanghai Martial Arts Headquarters.

　　Most of the people from the Shanghai Martial Arts Hall were young, and among them was a familiar face: Andrew Martinez, who had ranted about TV dramas on the train, and his friend David Thompson.

　　The two stood beside a young man with a calm, steady presence, and were surprised to see Brian Smith.

　　When Matthew Smith arrived, several uniformed men stepped forward and took the unconscious young man aside.

　　Another middle-aged man glanced at Brian Smith's shoulder and frowned slightly:

　　"Qisheng, are you alright?"

　　"I'm fine, Uncle Brooks."

　　Brian Smith sat on the sofa, blood seeping through the makeshift bandage on his shoulder:

　　"My bone was crushed, but it's nothing serious."

　　The speaker was Charles Brooks, Matthew Smith's childhood friend and old partner, who had watched Brian Smith grow up.

　　"Nonsense! Your bone is crushed and you say it's nothing? Bring the medicine, quick."

　　Charles Brooks scolded, instructing someone to fetch medicine.