Chapter 25: Fearless


    "Arrogant brat! Take him down!" The squad captain barked the order as he watched Han Ming make his move without hesitation. He sneered inwardly—since the boy struck first, he couldn''t blame them for retaliating.


    A soldier stepped forward immediately, reaching out to grab Han Ming''s collar. As a first-tier warrior, he was leagues ahead of the useless Fei Li. Although Han Ming’s speed had been astonishing, no battle aura had appeared, suggesting he was just an unusually strong mortal.


    Still seated, Han Ming simply lifted his leg and kicked. The soldier was sent flying, his weak battle aura offering no protection against the force.


    The remaining soldiers, witnessing this, drew their swords without hesitation, their faint battle auras flaring as they charged at Han Ming.


    Han Ming didn’t even bother dodging. In an instant, his feet lashed out several times. Just like before, the soldiers were launched into the air, unable to even scream before they landed beside their fallen comrade, coughing up blood and unable to stand.


    "Come on then, take my things. If you can, they’re yours." Han Ming smirked wickedly at the squad captain, the only one left standing.


    By now, it was clear to everyone—this Han Ming was no ordinary person. Without even summoning battle aura, he had crippled several first-tier soldiers. This situation was escalating quickly.


    The captain, eyes blazing with rage, watched his men writhing on the ground, coughing up blood. He roared, unleashing his battle aura—he was a third-tier warrior.


    "Save it! Get lost!" Han Ming didn’t even wait for him to strike. He casually picked up a large animal bone and hurled it. The leg bone smashed into the captain’s chest with a sickening crunch. Blood spurted from his mouth as he was sent flying. He struggled on the ground before staggering to his feet and stumbling away without even checking on his men. He knew he was no match for Han Ming—he needed reinforcements.


    Li Chengfeng cheered, clapping Han Ming on the shoulder. "Damn! Didn’t see that coming! That was satisfying!"


    Han Ming grinned. "Forget them. Let’s keep eating."


    Li Chengfeng, still amused, warned, "You’re not leaving? That squad captain''s fetching backup."


    Han Ming grabbed a handful of food, stuffing his mouth. "So what? I’d like to see just how unreasonable they can get. If they come, I’ll deal with them."


    Li Chengfeng’s eyes gleamed. He liked this guy—he was a real man.


    "Well said! More wine!" Li Chengfeng roared, laughing heartily. He ordered a barrel of strong liquor and handed it to Han Ming, who took a deep swig, shouting in delight.


    This was no ordinary drink—it was what burly mercenaries consumed, stronger than typical spirits. A fiery heat coursed down Han Ming’s throat, spreading through his body. He shuddered, his pores opening as a rush of exhilaration flooded through him. Thanks to his transformed physique and the mystical spring water he had consumed, his alcohol tolerance was off the charts. He could probably drink ten barrels and not feel a thing.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Li Chengfeng respected two kinds of people: those who were bold and open-minded, and those who could hold their liquor. In his eyes, anyone who could eat and drink heartily was worth befriending.


    With just a few drinks, the two were already much closer.


    Li Chengfeng downed his own portion, the burning liquor tinting his massive neck and chest red. He sighed contentedly and laughed. "Han Bro, you’re not from around here, are you? What brings you to Wildland City?"


    Han Ming tore off a chunk of meat, chewing contentedly as rich juices filled his mouth. A drop of oil dribbled onto his new clothes, but he simply wiped it with his sleeve, unfazed. "I’m from out of town, looking for a friend. Haven’t found them yet."


    Li Chengfeng nodded, tilting his head back for another drink. Before they knew it, they had emptied two barrels.


    "Bring four more! Tonight, we drink till we drop!" Li Chengfeng bellowed.


    "Good! Let’s drink!" Han Ming’s spirits were high. He liked Li Chengfeng—he had a straightforward, righteous air. Just the fact that he had been ready to step in earlier proved he was a man of principle. Han Ming had always admired the heroes of Water Margin, and Li Chengfeng reminded him of one. They didn’t need many words; in their hearts, they already saw each other as friends. With a kindred spirit, how could they not drink their fill?


    Just as they were getting into the mood, five horses thundered down the street, stopping in front of the mercenary inn. Several muscular men dismounted, clad in military uniforms. One of them supported an injured soldier—the squad captain Han Ming had beaten earlier. The group strode into the inn.


    "That’s him!" the injured captain gasped, pointing at Han Ming.


    "Seize him!" The apparent leader of the group bellowed. He was the captain’s superior—a hundred-man commander, a sixth-tier warrior. Furious that one of his own had been humiliated, he hadn’t even asked what had happened before bringing his men.


    "Perfect timing!" Han Ming laughed and hurled an empty wine barrel at them.


    Li Chengfeng had warned him about the commander’s strength, subtly advising caution. After all, Han Ming didn’t use battle aura, and a sixth-tier warrior could be a real challenge.


    But Han Ming didn’t hesitate.


    The barrel smashed into two of the commander’s guards—both fourth-tier warriors. They instinctively raised their battle aura to block, but the sheer force shattered both the barrel and their defenses. They grunted in pain and were sent flying out of the inn.


    Li Chengfeng’s eyes widened. No battle aura—yet Han Ming had crushed two fourth-tier warriors with brute strength alone? What kind of monster was he? His frame was lean, without bulging muscles, making his strength even more baffling.


    The commander, enraged, charged forward, his sixth-tier battle aura surging. The watching mercenaries thrilled at the sight—this kid was either incredibly strong or utterly reckless. Taking on the city’s military? No matter how powerful he was, this could only end badly.


    But before the commander could close the distance, Han Ming moved even faster. In a flash, he was in front of him, his slender hand slicing through the battle aura, clamping onto the commander’s throat.


    "Get out!" Han Ming roared, twisting his body and hurling the commander away like a rag doll. The commander crashed into his own men, all of them tumbling out of the inn.


    For a moment, there was stunned silence.


    Then, a deafening cheer erupted, shaking the inn’s rafters.


    A sixth-tier warrior—defeated in an instant! What terrifying power!


    Han Ming strode back to his seat, tilting back his drink before slamming the barrel onto the table, shattering it.


    Li Chengfeng laughed heartily. "Han Bro, aren’t you leaving!?"


    Han Ming wiped his mouth and grinned. "Why should I? More wine!"


    "Good! Then I, Li Chengfeng, will drink with you till the end! If you ever need me, just say the word!" Li Chengfeng declared, emboldened by Han Ming’s fearless spirit. Tonight, they would drink and raise hell together.


    The commotion was too big to ignore. The innkeeper, hearing of Han Ming’s deeds, discreetly came to observe, just in time to see him toss the commander out. He was shocked—this was no ordinary man.


    But trouble was brewing. The military wasn’t going to let this slide.


    "A pity… a real pity," the innkeeper muttered. He ordered his staff, "Don’t charge them. Let them drink all they want."