Chapter 369: Information Asymmetry Has Strategic Value

Chapter 369 -198: Information Asymmetry Has Strategic Value

The second man had already reacted.

He had gotten out of the rear car and was standing guard beside it. Upon hearing Zhang Chong’s shout, he immediately started running over.

He was positioned farther away than the first gunman, giving him about a second to react.

In that one second, he acted decisively, doing two things: drawing his gun and taking aim.

But he never finished aiming.

The assailant had already turned around.

After sending the first gunman flying, the attacker barely paused. His body twisted like a spring, his right leg carving a semicircle on the ground before lashing out like a whip.

The whip kick was so fast it was nearly impossible for the naked eye to follow.

A phantom image of the leg streaked through the air. The fabric of his pants tore through the atmosphere with a sharp HISS.

The assailant’s toes were pointed, the top of his foot aimed straight for the second guard’s shinbone.

The second guard’s reaction wasn’t slow, either.

The moment he saw the afterimage of the leg, he instinctively raised his own leg to block, but his blocking motion stopped abruptly halfway through.

The attacker’s kick was simply too fast. Before he could even get his leg into position, it had already slammed into his shin.

CRACK!

The second guard’s shinbone shattered.

“AARGH!”

His bloodcurdling scream echoed far into the thick fog.

The second guard collapsed to his knees on the bridge, clutching his deformed leg with both hands, his forehead pressed against the cold concrete.

BANG!

A gunshot rang out.

The driver of the rear car had never gotten out. His window was rolled down just a crack, and a gun barrel was sticking through the opening. He was even farther away than the first two men, giving him plenty of time to aim.

It took him about 0.8 seconds to line up his sights on the attacker’s chest.

BANG!

The gunshot exploded in the thick fog.

The bullet tore through the air with a sharp whistle as it flew toward the assailant.

The assailant didn’t dodge.

It was as if he didn’t even need to.

The instant the gun fired, the attacker’s body had already shifted subtly—a movement of less than ten centimeters, but just enough for the bullet to pass through the gap under his arm and strike the screaming guard behind him in the head.

The sound of the bullet entering flesh was a dull thud. The man let out a stifled grunt, and then fell completely silent.

“Fuck!”

The gunman in the car’s expression changed.

In that same instant, the attacker closed the distance.

He moved so fast the gunman didn’t have time to fire a second shot.

The gunman’s index finger squeezed the trigger, but it only moved halfway before jamming.

He looked up.

The attacker’s hand was already on his gun barrel.

With a twist of his right hand, the barrel rotated ninety degrees in the gunman’s grip. The gunman’s finger got caught in the distorted trigger guard, and he let out a short, sharp cry of pain. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

The assailant took the opportunity to yank the gun out through the open window, dragging the gunman’s arm along with it. The gunman’s upper body was pinned against the window frame, his shoulder jammed against the door, and his face twitched in agony.

THUD!

A single punch.

And the man was knocked out cold.

The attacker paid him no more mind and turned toward Xiao Ya’s car.

「In the blink of an eye.」

Less than two seconds had passed since the first shout of “Ambush!”

In two seconds, three well-trained gunmen were left with one dead and two injured.

The attacker strode toward Xiao Ya’s car.

He wore a mask.

It was Wan Ze.

At that moment, a serious look entered Zhang Chong’s eyes. He stood in front of the car door, his feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and his center of gravity lowered. His fists were raised to guard his chest.

Every muscle in his body tensed in an instant. The veins beneath his skin bulged like the gnarled roots of an old tree.

The Core of Horizontal Training is taking a hit.

In other words, it’s about forging your body into a weapon, letting the enemy wear themselves out trying to hurt you, and then slowly finishing them off.

Zhang Chong’s Horizontal Training followed the path of the Iron Cloth Shirt. Day after day, he soaked his body in medicinal solutions and struck himself with wooden poles and iron sandbags, hardening his skin, muscles, and fascia layer by layer until they formed a protective coating akin to armor.

A punch from an ordinary person would feel like hitting a tire; the Power behind it would be evenly dispersed, unable to penetrate.

Standing there, he was a human iron tower.

“You’re courting death!”

Zhang Chong snorted, his voice booming as if from a great bell.

As Wan Ze drew near, he charged forward without hesitation.

His footsteps were heavy and powerful. Each step on the bridge produced a dull THUD, as if someone were smashing the ground with a sledgehammer.

He threw alternating punches. His Fist Technique wasn’t some flashy routine, but the most basic, direct form of offense and defense—one punch after another, relentless and unending.

Wan Ze’s gaze was calm.

He watched Zhang Chong charge at him, his eyes betraying no emotion.

A sliding step, a turn of the body.

A shift of about fifteen degrees—just enough to let Zhang Chong’s right fist slice past his chest.

The wind from the punch swept over his clothes with a WHOOSH, but didn’t even touch the hem of his shirt.

And then… Wan Ze kicked.

His right leg lifted off the ground, knee bent, lower leg folded back, and then it snapped forward.

This kick was a whole level faster than the ones he’d used on the gunmen.

The leg’s afterimage cut through the air with a long HISS.

The top of his foot was ramrod straight, his five toes curled tight, turning his entire foot into a rigid iron plate as it lashed out toward Zhang Chong’s side.

Zhang Chong didn’t dodge.

As was his custom, he had no intention of dodging, nor was he used to it.

The essence of Horizontal Training was to take blows head-on.

‘You throw a punch, I take a punch. You throw a kick, I take a kick. I’m going to show you that your attacks are no different to me than a tickle.’