The Way of Restraint

Chapter 111: Relentless Pursuit, Mercy Without Equal

The attackers came fast, driving a pickup truck straight through the gates of the compound. They headed directly toward the building where Su Jie, Zhang Jinchuan, and the others lived, firing shots from a distance as they sped in. Everything about their assault was well-executed—it was clear this had been meticulously planned.

Fortunately, Su Jie and Zhang Jinchuan were highly alert. In that split second between life and death, they dove behind cover, avoiding the initial gunfire.

But the truck kept coming. It swerved sharply, and Su Jie spotted four or five armed men inside. Suddenly, they hurled several dark objects toward the house.

Boom!

Flames and deafening blasts erupted from inside.

“Not good—Zhang Manman and the others are still in there! These people came to wipe us all out. If we’d been resting in our rooms as usual, those grenades would have killed every last one of us,” Su Jie said in a low, tense voice.

Thankfully, he and Zhang Jinchuan had been outside at the time.

“Su Jie, we’re fine.” The voice came through his comms device after the explosions. “Are you hurt?”

“We’re fine,” Su Jie quickly replied. “You weren’t inside?”

“No. We suspected an attack was likely, so we staged a fake scene,” Zhang Manman’s voice answered over the link.

By then, the compound’s security detail—battle-hardened mercenaries—was springing into action. The pickup spun around and roared toward the gate. But the mercenaries were quick and experienced. As the vehicle tried to escape, several sharp bursts of gunfire rang out.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

One tire blew, then another. The truck skidded to a halt, crippled.

The gunmen didn’t hesitate. Even as the vehicle stopped, they flung open the doors and scattered into the maze of alleys in the nearby ruined city.

“After them,” Zhang Jinchuan ordered.

Su Jie didn’t think twice. He charged ahead, adrenaline surging. The fear was gone—replaced with a raw, electric thrill. This was life and death, far more intense than any ring fight or street brawl. It was practically special forces combat: one mistake could mean a bullet in the head.

Only now did Su Jie realize how little pressure his old training environment had put on him. Here, in this crucible, his mind and skills were being tempered like never before. Survive this, and going back to martial arts—he’d be terrifying. If you’re not afraid of bullets, why fear fists?

They didn’t chase in a straight line. Instead, they moved from cover to cover, using rubble and shadows to mask their approach. In the darkness, it was easy to stay hidden and close the gap quickly.

Su Jie moved like a mountain monkey—running, rolling, leaping, each movement compact but fast as lightning. This was the essence of the Hoe Strike Style: “Dodge like a monkey, strike like a tiger.”

Soon, they reached the alleys of the ruined district, surrounded by collapsed concrete and bomb craters from past conflicts.

“They went down this street,” Zhang Jinchuan whispered, crouching behind a thick slab of rubble. “They’ve got guns, so be careful. But in the dark, they can’t fire recklessly. Muzzle flashes would give them away, and ricochets could kill them. We actually have the advantage. You’ve got your knife, right? How about we finish them here?”

“Not so simple,” Su Jie replied, though a fire burned in his chest. This was something he’d only seen in movies—now he was living it. The sting from a scrape on his arm reminded him it was all real.

Foreign country. Under attack. Fighting back. Death could come any second. His nerves tightened like steel wire.

Zhang Jinchuan tossed a chunk of concrete into the distance. It clattered loudly.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunfire tore into the spot.

“Damn—we didn’t bring helmets,” Su Jie muttered. A steel helmet wouldn’t stop a direct bullet, but it could deflect a ricochet.

“No choice—we go for it,” Zhang Jinchuan said. “I’ve got their position. You heard it, right? In that ruined building ahead?”

“I heard.” Su Jie’s senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. In his mind, he mapped the shooters’ positions and imagined their aim lines.

“Move!”

Jinchuan slithered forward like a snake. Su Jie darted from side to side, weaving through imaginary bullet paths based on his limited shooting experience from the Washin Mountain Villa range. It wasn’t much, but his agility and the cover of night kept him safe.

They slipped into the building’s skeleton. Su Jie could hear the faint breathing of their prey.

Jinchuan suddenly pulled out a flashlight, switched it on, and hurled it into the room.

Swish!

The beam lit up five figures. One face was all too familiar.

“Grey Wolf!” Su Jie recognized him instantly.

The men flinched at the light, guns shifting toward it—but they didn’t fire. The room’s reinforced concrete would send bullets ricocheting unpredictably, possibly back into them.

Movies made gunfights in rooms look safe behind tables or walls. Reality was different—modern rounds could tear through thin cover easily.

Without hesitation, Su Jie lunged, closing the distance to Grey Wolf in a heartbeat. Faster than he’d ever moved before, his palm slammed across the man’s face. If he’d been slower, Grey Wolf would have fired.

Even Jinchuan was momentarily stunned—he’d still been planning his move.

‘No wonder Master Luo picked him,’ Jinchuan thought. Even national champion Liu Long might not dare this.

Grey Wolf reacted fast—his gun clattered to the floor, and in the same motion a knife appeared in his hand, driving for Su Jie’s ribs. In close quarters, a blade was deadlier than a gun.

But Su Jie’s Hoe Strike Style “Eagle Claw” grip caught Grey Wolf’s wrist mid-strike and twisted hard.

Crack!

The wrist dislocated instantly. Pain contorted Grey Wolf’s face.

Su Jie didn’t stop. Stepping in, palm braced on the man’s chest, his foot hooked behind Grey Wolf’s legs. A brutal push-pull—

Crack!

The man’s spine gave way, dropping him limp to the ground.

This was the Hoe Strike Style’s “Breaking the Branch,” a wrestling-and-grappling finisher designed to disable instantly. The style’s other variations—“Pulling Weeds,” “Shaking the Wheel,” “Leading the Ox,” “Carrying the Load,” “Chopping Firewood,” “Smashing Stone,” “Pushing the Mill”—all came from farm work, but each was vicious in a fight.

Su Jie didn’t linger—he rolled to the flashlight, shut it off, and rolled again.

Bang-bang-bang!

A gunman fired blindly in the dark, just as Su Jie had expected. Luckily, the ricochets missed him.

Then—

Shhhk!

The wet slice of a blade across a throat. Jinchuan had used the darkness to close in and kill one.

Su Jie froze in his hiding spot, the sound vivid in his ears—blood spurting, a choking, dying gasp.

Click!

Light flooded the scene again. Three men remained. One, a younger man, suddenly shouted in English:

“Stop! Surrender!”

He dropped his gun. The others hesitated, then followed suit.

Jinchuan raised his knife again, ready to finish them.

“Stop!” Su Jie barked. 

Something in the young man’s face and bearing caught his attention—marks that suggested high status. Such a person wouldn’t normally be here in a raid.

He glanced at the dying man on the floor, throat slashed and spasming. Dropping into a crouch, Su Jie pressed skilled fingers to the wound, stemming the blood.

The neck’s major arteries, once cut, bleed out fast—only immediate pressure can save a life until surgery.

From his kit, Su Jie pulled bandages and worked quickly, binding the wound tight. The man was still alive—for now.

He looked at the remaining three in English: “Is there a hospital nearby? One has a spinal injury. The other’s artery is cut. If you move fast, they can still be saved.”