Chapter 0075: Loosening Your Bones

The karate chop was impressive—the little Japanese guy had good technique, and the force of his blow sent a strong gust of wind.
"In terms of martial arts, China is your ancestor!"
Zhang Xiaofan spoke coldly, standing still as he unleashed his own hand chop—swift, fierce, and powerful as a blade cleaving through the air. The force was so strong that you could hear the whistle of wind slicing past.
A dull, heavy thud sounded. Terror flashed in the tiny eyes of the Japanese dwarf; it felt as if his hand had struck a steel plate. The intense pain twisted his face into a grimace.
The immense force sent Ichikawa staggering backward, but Zhang Xiaofan seized his wrist, yanked him forward, and drove his knee viciously into Ichikawa's face.
In that instant, one could almost hear the crunch of shattered nasal bone. Blood splattered across the Japanese man's face as his body jerked upward, then crashed down in a parabola to the floor.
The noise as he landed was deafening. Ichikawa lay groaning in agony.
"Baka! You dared hit Ichikawa-kun. The dojo will never let you off!" hissed the nearby Koteng, threatening Zhang Xiaofan.
Koteng spoke fairly good Chinese, evidently having spent quite some time in China.
"Not only did I beat him, I'll thrash you too, you bastard," Zhang Xiaofan snorted, launching a kick that sent Koteng flying. He crashed into a table, his head striking the corner. His gold-rimmed glasses shattered, and shards pierced his eye.
The pain made Koteng clutch his face, rolling on the floor.
Damn these Japanese dwarfs, let’s see how arrogant they can be now.
Lin Siyu had expected such an outcome, and felt thoroughly satisfied.
"Baka yarou!" Ichikawa staggered to his feet, roaring at Zhang Xiaofan, clearly unwilling to concede.
"Oh, you little bastard, still able to shout? Clearly I haven’t hit you hard enough. Let me loosen up your bones some more," Zhang Xiaofan said coolly, approaching.
Ichikawa's eyes bulged with hatred; he was truly fearless. Wiping blood from his face, he lashed out with a flying kick at Zhang Xiaofan.
To be fair, the Japanese dwarf had some skill, but unfortunately, he was facing Zhang Xiaofan.
Zhang Xiaofan watched the incoming kick and smiled faintly. He suddenly lunged forward, launching his own kick straight into Ichikawa’s stomach. Ichikawa’s attack didn’t even brush Zhang Xiaofan's clothes before he was sent flying.
Zhang Xiaofan had used considerable force, with a burst of internal power. Ichikawa fell to the ground, blood trickling from his lips, and promptly lost consciousness.
Zhang Xiaofan shook his head. Pathetic—he hadn’t even warmed up yet.
The fight immediately threw the restaurant patrons into panic; they fled outside. The restaurant owner was furious—how dare someone cause trouble here?
The owner was also Japanese. Seeing Ichikawa and Koteng sprawled on the floor, he felt deeply humiliated.
He wanted someone to deal with this young man, but seeing Zhang Xiaofan's prowess, he reconsidered. His eyes flashed, and he pulled out his phone to dial a number.
"Hello, I'd like to speak with Mr. Kimura Tanino from Hokushin Dojo."
"Who are you?"
"Mr. Koteng brought Mr. Ichikawa here for a meal and they were beaten up. The attacker insulted them, saying everyone at Hokushin Dojo is weak."
"Baka! Give me the address!"
The voice on the other end was nearly roaring, furious.
After hanging up, the owner sent over the address.
"You dare hit people from Hokushin Dojo? You must have nerves of steel," the Japanese owner tried using a Chinese idiom, but it sounded awkward and mangled in his mouth.
"Xiaofan, let's go," Lin Siyu urged, grabbing Zhang Xiaofan’s arm. It was best to leave quickly.
"Why worry? We haven’t eaten yet, paid for our meal already—leaving would be a waste," Zhang Xiaofan shook his head and strode toward the owner.
As Zhang Xiaofan approached, his calm smile unsettled the owner.
"What do you want?" the owner asked nervously.
"What do I want? Hurry up and bring out the dishes—I’ve already paid," Zhang Xiaofan replied.
"Go sit over there, and I'll have the waiter bring your food," the owner said, relieved. He had feared Zhang Xiaofan might come for him after discovering the call, but he seemed safe for now.
This guy was so skilled; the owner’s own frail body wouldn’t stand a chance.
Zhang Xiaofan smiled, his tone suddenly shifting: "Who did you just call?"
The owner’s face changed, but quickly recovered. "I called a customer who reserved a private room for lunch but hasn’t arrived."
"Is that so? Then what’s Hokushin Dojo?" Zhang Xiaofan’s expression grew cold, and he slammed his palm onto the table. "Such audacity—to call people to deal with me? You really must have nerves of steel and a lion's heart."
The owner was startled, so that’s how the idiom was supposed to be used.
"I don’t know anything about Hokushin Dojo," he feigned ignorance.
"Still pretending?" Zhang Xiaofan glared, grabbing the owner by the collar and lifting him up.
"Baka! What are you doing?" the owner cried in fear.
Smack!
Zhang Xiaofan slapped him hard across the face. "Say another word and see what happens."
The owner’s face burned; it hardly felt like his own anymore. This Chinese youth had frightening strength. Being a businessman, he wasn’t stupid—he immediately fell silent.
"That’s better. Behave yourself," Zhang Xiaofan said with a smile, pointing to the trash bin. "Go squat over there. Soon, you’ll see how I teach Hokushin Dojo’s people a lesson."
Zhang Xiaofan hadn’t planned to be so ostentatious, but leaving now would only make him look weak in front of these Japanese dwarfs.
Hokushin Dojo? Wasn’t that founded by practitioners of Hokushin Itto-ryu? Their top experts were indeed formidable. Zhang Xiaofan had encountered one such master three years ago—a true one-blade artist, with man and blade as one, embodying the force of heaven and earth.
But that master was over a hundred years old. Zhang Xiaofan doubted there was anyone of that caliber in the Hokushin Dojo of Jinghai City.
It was called a dojo, but in reality, it was just a training hall, teaching karate and some sword techniques.
The restaurant owner muttered inwardly, “Go ahead and act tough. When the Hokushin Dojo people arrive, you’ll be skinned alive.”
Though extremely reluctant, the owner obediently squatted beside the trash can, hoping the dojo members would arrive soon.
Ichikawa and Koteng were still sprawled on the floor, unable to move. Their wailing annoyed Zhang Xiaofan.
"Go, stuff their mouths. Don’t disturb my meal," Zhang Xiaofan ordered the owner.
"This isn’t right…" the owner hesitated.
"What’s wrong with it? You won’t do it? Want to end up like them?" Zhang Xiaofan glared at him, and the owner shrank back, collapsing further.
"I’ll do it, I’ll do it," he replied hurriedly. There was a saying in China: ‘A wise man doesn’t suffer losses before his eyes.’ If the dojo people blamed him later, he’d just say Zhang Xiaofan forced him.
"Wait, use the napkins from the trash," Zhang Xiaofan called after him, glancing at the bin—there were a few used napkins, some with phlegm. No sense in wasting them.
You love shouting ‘baka’? Let’s see if you keep shouting now.
The owner frowned as he looked in the trash. This was going too far.
But seeing Zhang Xiaofan’s fierce gaze, he obediently took the napkins, grimacing at the phlegm, and stuffed them into Ichikawa and Koteng’s mouths.
Ichikawa’s mouth still had blood; the napkin turned red as soon as it was stuffed in.
Zhang Xiaofan laughed—it looked uncannily like a certain woman’s item.
"Maybe we should just leave…" Lin Siyu whispered.
"No need. Why should we fear Japanese dwarfs? Today you were harassed, tomorrow it could be another Chinese woman. How can we let Japanese dwarfs harass Chinese women? Today, I’ll teach them a lesson. Don’t worry, Hokushin Dojo’s nothing to me," Zhang Xiaofan said calmly, picking up a slice of sashimi and offering it to Lin Siyu. "Eat. They’ll probably arrive once we’re done. Need a full stomach to fight."
Lin Siyu couldn’t sway him, so she joined him in eating, though not as comfortably.
Zhang Xiaofan devoured his food ravenously. Truth be told, the Japanese restaurant’s food was decent.
Nearly twenty minutes passed. Zhang Xiaofan wiped his mouth and burped.
"Hey, I can’t take it anymore. Let me stand up," the owner pleaded, legs trembling and face pale from squatting so long.
"Damn it, who are you calling ‘hey’? You’re so old," Zhang Xiaofan threw a fish head at him, which the owner instinctively dodged.
"Oh, you dare dodge?"
Zhang Xiaofan stood and dumped the remaining dishes onto the owner. He didn’t feel he was being excessive with these arrogant Japanese.
The owner was furious but could only endure it. If this kid went berserk, he’d end up like those two. After all this time, they still couldn’t get up—testament to Zhang Xiaofan’s heavy hand.
Just then, a group of more than ten men appeared at the restaurant entrance, faces fierce, feet clad in wooden clogs, dressed in samurai uniforms.
The owner caught sight of them from the corner of his eye and grew excited. Finally, they had arrived. If they hadn’t, he’d have lost his temper for real.
He immediately stood up and shouted, "Here he is, this little bastard!"