Chapter 27: Fake Boobs Of Doom
Zhao Yiming stumbled mid-step and let out a frustrated scream.
"Goddammit! It's not bootleg—it's limited edition dark mode, you system bastard!!!"
He tightened his mask and bolted forward, cape fluttering behind.
The first gang member didn't even have time to react before Zhao's fist connected squarely with his jaw, sending him flying backward.
"Why does no one recognize this masterpiece?!"
Zhao shouted, dodging a punch from the right, countering with a swift kick to the gut.
Another rushed in from the left—Zhao grabbed his wrist and slammed his head straight into the guy's face.
"What's wrong with this generation?! Do they not respect fine craftsmanship?!"
"Oh wow, looks like Brother Zhao's on fire," Zhang Chuan commented coolly from the sidelines, arms crossed, unbothered.
"I guess it's time I get serious."
He stepped forward dramatically, his grass costume rustling ominously as he began to spin.