Chapter 165: God of Elevator Combat

Chapter 165: God of Elevator Combat

By the time the elevator doors slid open, five men were already down inside. Three were still standing.

Wu Chen, in the farthest corner, with the skinny masked man he had hauled into his arms as a shield—and a man in a black baseball cap bringing a knife down toward Wu Chen’s head.

The fight was not finished when the doors opened.

Elevator combat moved at a blistering pace, but there were simply too many of them.

The blade came down. Wu Chen shoved the skinny masked man away, snapped a kick up, and struck the man’s knife hand at the wrist. The knife tore loose, flew upward, punched through the elevator ceiling, and stuck there. Wu Chen swept his own blade back in a short arc—

The man in the black cap clutched at his spurting throat, staggered back a step, and tripped over a body.

It sounded complicated when described. In practice, it was only a handful of movements.

Wu Chen was extremely fast.

In fact, from the moment the doors began to part until one second after they stood fully open, he finished it.

All seven men were down on the elevator floor. None of them were dead yet—there simply had not been time. Even a fatal wound to the neck does not kill a man in a dozen seconds.

They were all twitching.

Some clutched their throats. One had a hand pressed to his chest, while his other hand—

Was gone. Severed at the wrist.

Outside the elevator, Li Ruobing had a hand over her mouth. Her eyes had gone red at once. She stood utterly still, staring into the car with her eyes wide.

Her bodyguards were much the same, gazes fixed and blank on what lay inside.

Wu Chen had won.

In a cramped box with almost nowhere to dodge, he had fought seven men alone and won. All seven were down. He was the only one on his feet. Blood was everywhere.

It made no sense.

Nobody could do this.

And even supposing someone could win, he should have been mortally wounded himself.

Li Ruobing’s bodyguards were the elite of the elite.

So they understood.

And the better they understood, the more impossible it looked. Even in theory the odds of such a thing were vanishingly small.

And yet—

There was nothing impossible about it at all.

Because Wu Chen had trained for this.

He had chosen this shopping center deliberately. He had known that once Ding Ruilong learned the first operation had failed, he would not let it go; given the man’s temperament, he was very likely to go to extremes and order Wu Chen killed regardless of consequence.

So Wu Chen had picked this place—a shopping center with dreadful business and almost no customers in the morning.

He was giving himself an opportunity as well.

After all, if Wu Chen was going to kill people, he could hardly let anyone watch him do it.

He had not known in advance exactly where or how they would strike. They might ram his car in the garage. They might corner him in an elevator. There was no way to be certain.

But Wu Chen feared nothing.

He had even been slightly excited.

Especially by the possibility of an elevator fight.

It was a classic method of murder, one that turned up constantly in the films of his previous life.

In a certain famous crime film, a police superintendent was cornered in an elevator before being thrown from a building. And most famously, in another film, a gang boss was surrounded in an elevator by a pack of men and stabbed who knew how many times—and still won the fight, earning himself the name God of Elevator Combat. In the end his wounds were too severe, and he died in the hospital.

There were countless other examples. Elevator fights had appeared in far too many films and television dramas.

As for Wu Chen—

He had been trapped in a single day for more than a thousand years. He had gone mad, gone berserk, courted death without number.

And he had specifically trained for elevator combat.

He had trained with his own life. Die, reset, try again.

During the stretch of the loop he had devoted to hand-to-hand fighting, Wu Chen…