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."
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.
