Gold Class Fighter

Yang Lei turned around. The moment he did, with the sound of the wind, a brick smashed onto his head. He wasn’t even aware of when someone had gotten close from behind. Fresh blood flowed down from his forehead, blurring his eyes. Through the spray of blood, Yang Lei saw a person. A tall and thin, clean man, expressionlessly smashing a second brick onto his face. A long time later Yang Lei recalled, what had left the deepest impression in his mind was that white dress shirt on the other person’s body. That white dress shirt was dazzling, white as snow, spotlessly clean; very few fighters dressed so cleanly. That white dress shirt was quickly dyed red with blood, Yang Lei’s blood. They wer...