This High Martial World is Too Crazy!!!

Never mind the conversation back at the villa. Two kilometers from that street, on the roof of a skyscraper...

A young man was leaning against a wall, resting with his eyes closed, ignoring the fierce battle and the deaths of his companions raging behind him.

As an assassin, he had to guarantee a one-shot kill. If his bullet missed, trying to "help" would only make things worse.

As a sniper who followed the teachings of Hawkeye and Wesley, he had his own code: three situations in which he would not shoot.

First, never engage a target whose power level is vastly different from your own.

When the gap is too wide, a shot is wasted.

Second, never shoot when the enemy is on high alert.

A shot must be a guaranteed hit. Fang Can would have been at his most vigilant at the very beginning of the siege, making the chance of success minimal.

And third, if your gut says not to shoot, you don’t shoot.

No questions asked. If you feel you can’t make the shot, it’s best to cut your losses and run. In this line of work, you trust your fate.

By adhering to this three-part code, he had maintained a 100% success rate throughout his career. One mistake meant death.

Lying in wait, the young man remained as still as a stone, even as the desperate cries for help from his teammates flooded his earpiece.

Don’t ask why. The answer was simple: he didn’t feel he could make the shot. He’d act when that feeling changed.

Lying low—that was the key to his survival.

...

Meanwhile, Fang Can was single-handedly routing the twenty-odd Reincarnators. A casual punch could obliterate their bodies, a single kick could shatter their bones, and a palm strike left a ten-foot-deep crater in the ground.

He was like a human-shaped beast rampaging across the battlefield. No one could withstand a single blow.

In a matter of moments, more than half of the group were dead or dying at Fang Can’s hands. The survivors desperately tried to create distance, putting up a futile last stand.

He casually grabbed one Reincarnator by the arm. When Fang Can paused for a fraction of a second, the terrified man seized the opportunity, decisively severing his own limb with a blade and scrambling away in horror.

’Another master?’ Fang Can thought with a sigh of resignation. He was getting tired of all this killing.

His senses told him that the person approaching on foot was far more dangerous than all twenty of the others combined.

Looking into the distance, he saw a skinny, middle-aged man in a black-and-white prison uniform slowly strolling toward him, followed by five bizarre-looking individuals in strange attire.

The skinny man fixed Fang Can with a solemn gaze. "Are you Fang Can?"

After Fang Can confirmed, the man suddenly broke into a smile. "Excellent. Someone sent me to take your life."

"Allow me to introduce myself. My title is the Mighty King. My superpower is Flesh-Shaping, which allows my body to transcend its physical limits."

As he spoke, he demonstrated his power by morphing his hand into various shapes, from an eagle’s talon to a bear’s paw.

"Because of a flesh inhibitor, I can only unleash about eighty percent of my power at the moment. But I’m sure that will be more than enough to kill you."

The Mighty King offered a pleasant smile, but as he finished speaking, he watched Fang Can simply collapse. The immense eight-ton weight crashed down, embedding him in the ground amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

"What are you doing?" The Mighty King stared, stunned, at the fallen Fang Can. ’He went down before I even did anything!’

"Oh, didn’t you just say you haven’t fully recovered your strength?"

Fang Can casually rolled onto his side, the ground cracking and splintering under his weight. He struck a lazy, reclining pose and said, "In that case, I’ll just wait for you to get back to full strength before we fight."

"Besides, I’m getting sick of killing," Fang Can added with a yawn. "This way, you can’t complain that you weren’t at your peak when I beat you to death."

With that, Fang Can actually closed his eyes and began to wait patiently. This brazenly confident display made the normally arrogant Mighty King’s brow furrow in irritation.

He was always the one who postured and intimidated others. The thought that this young man was now one-upping him in sheer audacity filled him with a surge of annoyance.

As killing intent surged through him, his body began to expand, growing taller and taller.

"RRRIP! RRRIP!"

Through his Flesh-Shaping, the Mighty King’s muscles bulged and swelled, his body stretching from its original five-foot-nine frame into a hulking, savage eight-foot-two behemoth.

His prison uniform ripped apart, leaving his massive frame clad in nothing but a pair of shorts.

Now, his fists were larger than Fang Can’s head, and his knees were wider than Fang Can’s waist. He looked like an apocalyptic god of destruction.

The transformed Mighty King stared down at the young man, his voice a low rumble. "You scrawny little mutt. You actually dare to posture in front of me?"

SNAP!

At those words, Fang Can’s eyes snapped open, a flicker of irritation in them.

’Fucking hell, how is five-eleven short?!’

’Damn it, why does everyone call me short? This punk was five-nine before he transformed, and he has the gall to mock me?’

Excellent. The pre-fight trash talk had successfully stoked the fires of rage in both of them.

Rising from the ground, Fang Can stared at the giant before him as a crimson glint once again crept into his eyes.

’Fight! Hurry up and fight!’

The Reincarnators behind the Mighty King were all screaming internally. As long as Fang Can was killed, it wouldn’t be a total loss.

Seeing Fang Can finally get serious, the Mighty King grinned. "Oh, that’s right. I heard you’re someone with a luck-based ability. That anyone who opposes you suffers a backlash from fate."

As he spoke, the Mighty King produced three coins from out of nowhere and casually flicked them into the air.

They spun and bounced, and all three landed perfectly balanced on their edges.

Fang Can’s eyes narrowed at the sight.

If he had truly done that with a casual toss and no tricks, the odds of making three coins land on their edges simultaneously were less than one in a hundred thousand.

"Unfortunately for you, for the next twelve hours, I also happen to have an ability in that department. Your luck is meaningless against me."

At this, the Mighty King let out a wild laugh. "I’ve heard that when powerful luck-users fight, it’s not just their enemies who get hurt, but their entire family lines as well."

"Fang Can, you will cower before my destiny!"

The Mighty King pointed a finger at Fang Can.

"Today, I, the Mighty King, will not only beat you to a pulp! Your entire clan will also suffer a violent death under the weight of my fortune!"

"I, the Mighty King, will use the true power of my destiny to curse your entire bloodline to death—your parents, your wife, your brothers and sisters, all of them!!!"

Having delivered his threat, the Mighty King looked at the silent Fang Can and assumed he had frightened him.

He never expected that in the next moment, Fang Can would cover his face with one hand and begin to laugh maniacally.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"Alright, then! Let’s bet our entire family lines on this fight!"

The smile on Fang Can’s handsome face slowly twisted into a predatory grin. "Let’s see whose luck is better. We’ll use our entire clans as the stakes!"

"I, Fang Can, will make this vow today."

"Not only am I going to beat you to death with my bare hands, punch by punch!"

"I’m also going to beat your entire clan into deletion!!!"