The first man to rush in front of Ye Qing was an unlucky fellow, as he bore Ye Qing's first punch.
His machete had not yet fallen when Ye Qing's punch had already landed on his temple. The man was instantly sent flying backward, lying motionless on the ground.
"What happened?" the man in a tank top walked over to help him up, checked his nostrils, and his face suddenly changed: "Damn, is he dead?"
These desperados, hacking people was nothing unusual, and fighting was commonplace. However, having been in the gang for so many years, they had never seen anyone who could kill a man with a single punch. Even Lu Zhishen had killed Zhen Guanxi with three punches. How could this seemingly thin and weak young man kill a man thirty pounds heavier than him with one punch?
The other few men had no time to look back at what was happening and, toting their machetes, charged at Ye Qing, hacking at various parts of his body.
