Who told me to possess such remarkable skills?

During the two days since arriving here, Bai Haonan had seen many street fights among the locals in the small town. It was as if the place still preserved a primitive air—without much scheming or connections, conflicts were resolved directly, in the most elemental way between men. Naturally, since women generally ruled the households here, men spent their days sunbathing, playing shuttlecock, or finding new ways to entertain themselves. It seemed their bird-catching, hunting, and fishing were just covers for their real pastime—searching for lovers. It was no wonder that men would suddenly erupt in brawls, resembling scenes from the animal kingdom.

But to see such a large, aggressive crowd brandishing knives was rare.

In an instant, people poured out from both sides of the street, locals rolling up sleeves and drawing blades, joining the astonished tourists with their cameras. The sense of being watched by a crowd ignited Bai Haonan’s competitive spirit, reminiscent of warming up before a game in front of the stands. Stirred by this primal violence, his natural flamboyance emerged—he was, at heart, a show-off, yearning to make a scene.

He swiftly snatched a pair of sunglasses from a nearby youth’s face and put them on, partly to hide his own, but also to strike a pose. If he was going to show off, he’d do it thoroughly. Bai Haonan, coming from the world of professional sports, was taller than most locals, with only a few matching his build. As his companions saw him step forward with a knife, they eagerly joined in, cheering loudly.

Isa didn’t look back, as if she knew her man would follow. Proudly standing at the intersection, she held a steel blade—utterly at odds with her elegance—in one hand, bellowing insults at the matron opposite with heroic vigor.

Unfortunately, Bai Haonan couldn’t understand the words, but from her tone, he sensed her ferocity and refusal to yield. A surge of affection welled up within him; he wanted to grab her and ruffle her hair, but instead, he gently yet firmly took the long knife from her wrist, nudged her aside with his elbow, and said, “This is a man’s business. Why don’t you sit on the flowerbed and enjoy the show?”

Isa looked up at him, her face and eyes suddenly blooming with joy. She was dazzling, so radiant that Bai Haonan could barely keep his eyes open. It was a blend of pride and contentment, a feeling that he’d never regret this moment in his life—the kind of happiness a city girl feels when she buys a designer handbag. She jumped up and kissed Bai Haonan’s cheek, then hopped onto the flowerbed, calling her sisters over, chin raised high to accept their congratulations.

No coyness, no pretense—she was like a proud princess!

How could any man resist her?

Of course, the men on the other side were even more enraged, snorting like bulls, shoving aside the quarrelling women to charge forward.

Bai Haonan gripped the heavy long knife in his left hand, his right hand bandaged but not drawing the short blade. A young man tried to help him remove the sheath, but Bai Haonan shook his head and declined.

He had no intention of killing anyone.

To him, fighting to the death over a woman was foolish; women were everywhere in the world. Why risk prison for such a thing, only for her to end up with someone else? As for those who cared about reputation and honor, Bai Haonan scoffed. Could a provincial champion beat a national one? Could Chinese football win the Asian championship? Even the Asian champion gets crushed at the World Cup. No matter how big your reputation, there’s always someone better. Who really cares about face anymore? It’s just a trick for fools.

He’d never been in a gang fight, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t fought. The sports team was full of men so energetic that if they weren’t chasing women, they were fighting. Many athletes spent their lives sheltered within their own circles, simple-minded regardless of intelligence. The football team was more connected to the outside world, but even so, things weren’t as complicated as out there. Stir them up a little, and they’d be brawling in no time.

That Bai Haonan had escaped all those fights without lasting injuries was no accident.

He didn’t even bother with words—talk was pointless now. Watching the burly man charging at him, nearly as tall as himself, with greasy, unkempt curls and a rough face, wearing sunglasses and brandishing a long knife, Bai Haonan could see he hadn’t bathed in weeks.

Where are footballers most skilled? With their feet.

Don’t forget Bai Haonan’s position through more than a decade of professional play—he was a defensive midfielder.

Just as he’d taught Old Song before, that role required constant observation of the opponent, readiness to respond, and, in the instant of contact...

For Bai Haonan, this was second nature. He watched the man’s steps, suddenly raised his left hand, and the long knife flashed upward.

Anyone confronted by a gleaming steel blade—especially a stranger—would instinctively react, unsure if it would come down at them. This was like Bai Haonan’s favorite feint as a defender; the burly man, already charging, made a hurried defensive adjustment, throwing his balance off.

When sprinting, a person is always on the verge of losing balance, relying on speed to avoid falling. Football’s subtlety lies in exploiting the inertia from the opponent’s sprint; the more skilled you are, the easier it is to handle.

Bai Haonan acted as if he were playing football: the left hand was just a feint to disrupt the opponent’s movement and attention. His right foot made a sudden, defender’s stride, tripping the man’s boot in a single motion. With his bandaged right hand gripping the sheathed short knife like a club, he quietly raised it and jabbed it into the man’s neck.

It felt as if the man had run into it himself.

Familiar, isn’t it? It was exactly what Bai Haonan had always done on the pitch—opportunistic, ruthless.

He’d faced agile professional black athletes; now he was dealing with a mountain brute.

And he had two tools in hand.

Isn’t the difference between humans and animals the use of tools?

Anyway, Bai Haonan made quick work of it. The left hand with the long knife barely parried the opponent’s confused blade, and the rounded, sheathed short knife struck the soft cartilage between the man’s collarbone and Adam’s apple, nearly knocking him out—using the man’s own momentum.

A spot you could make someone cough just by pressing with a finger—imagine the impact of a blow like that.

But Bai Haonan, with countless tricks from the football field, knew this wouldn’t even leave a mark; ten minutes later, the guy would be fine.

Ha! He was a professional!

To the onlookers, though, it was a show-off's display. The burly man, almost heroic, charged forward only to collapse in agony, dropping his knife and clutching his throat, unable to speak.

It seemed Isa’s Azhu had barely moved, just lifted his hand casually!

A wave of astonished cries swept through the crowd.

A master!

Like something out of a martial arts novel.

A master can’t ignore the gasps of admiration. Immediately, Bai Haonan leaned down, stylishly removed the man's sunglasses as a trophy, and tossed them back to the companion who'd lent him a pair earlier. He deftly rolled the round knife handle with his foot, flicked it into the air like juggling a ball, and with a swing of the long knife, sent it clattering to the roadside.

A sense of disdainful dominance spread through the crowd.

Isa, standing on the flowerbed, was swooning...

Ah, her intoxication was real.

Bai Haonan still hadn't realized just how far he had gone in showing off.