Chapter 8: A Calamity Without Cause

Physical constitution, strength, and agility—each required only ten years of life to enhance.

But “perception” was different; it cost five times more than the other attributes!

“On what basis does the system calculate these costs?” Tang Mubai was startled yet deeply curious.

“To improve perception once, I have to sacrifice fifty years of my life. This suggests that enhancing ‘perception’ is no easy feat.”

“And then there’s ‘willpower.’ I suspect the cost must be even higher!”

Though the system hadn’t made it explicit, Tang Mubai had a strong intuition about this.

After all, compared to perception, willpower was even more elusive.

Sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and the so-called sixth sense—all these fell under perception.

Excluding the sixth sense, the first five all have physical organs that manifest them.

But willpower lacks any such organ; it is intangible, yet undeniably real.

To improve it, the lifespan consumed would surely exceed what perception demanded.

How many years exactly, Tang Mubai dared not test.

The original 139 years he had left had suddenly been reduced by fifty, leaving eighty-nine, which he decided to spend the following night.

The next day, he rose as usual, drove his little sister to school, then looped around several hospitals as was his routine.

After two days, Tang Mubai had more or less memorized the routes near these hospitals.

So this time, he took the shortcut, weaving his way through a narrow alley.

The road was barely wide enough for a single car to pass.

Tang Mubai slowed down, inching forward carefully.

Suddenly—

As he passed a side alley, a figure was flung out from within, colliding with his car and sent flying seven or eight meters before crashing to the ground, where it lay convulsing.

With a screech of tires, Tang Mubai slammed the brakes, stopping three meters short of the fallen figure.

“...A scam?”

In the car, Tang Mubai was stunned, then anger flared within him.

He opened the door and strode over, intending to check if the person was truly dead.

But before he reached, the sounds of a fierce struggle erupted behind him, accompanied by surges of savage energy.

Tang Mubai, whose perception had just been enhanced, felt his heart jolt involuntarily and glanced back.

Vaulting over the SUV, a young man in a black martial artist’s uniform was locked in combat with a burly, expressionless middle-aged man. The two emerged from the alley, hands and feet flying in a flurry of attacks.

Their movements were swift as lightning—each blow met with another, the impact raising dust from the ground.

Occasionally, a fist landed on the alley wall, leaving a crater and scattering debris; a kick would leave a deep footprint behind.

Professional martial artists!

Both fighters were professionals.

Had this been yesterday, Tang Mubai would never have been able to follow their movements.

But with his perception now heightened, his vision and hearing vastly improved, he could almost see through every move they made.

Each attack was meant to kill.

A vendetta? An assassination?

Preferring to avoid trouble, Tang Mubai watched for a moment, then prepared to drive off—

A thunderous crash sounded, and a figure suddenly loomed large in his field of view with a muffled groan.

Almost by instinct, Tang Mubai dodged into a corner.

Without obstruction, the figure flew past, slamming into a wall at the bend with a heavy thud. Cracks like spiderwebs spread across half the wall.

Blood spurted from the young man’s mouth as he slid to the ground and slumped against the wall.

“Defeated?”

Tang Mubai’s heart skipped a beat.

The figure who’d just been struck down was none other than the young man in the black martial uniform!

“Brother, run!”

The young man suddenly shouted to Tang Mubai.

“Run?”

The burly middle-aged man turned, swept his icy gaze at Tang Mubai, and said coldly, “Since you’re here, you’ll stay!”

With that, he stamped the ground, shattering the concrete beneath his feet, and shot toward Tang Mubai like a launched missile.

“Wait, wait!”

Tang Mubai was both frightened and furious, wanting to explain, but the burly man paid him no heed, charging on relentlessly.

The aura enveloping him was like a rampaging beast—Tang Mubai found himself unable to break free. Rage surged within him, and he clenched his teeth, meeting the attack with a punch of his own.

Tiger Roar Fist!

At the level of mastery, as soon as Tang Mubai unleashed the Tiger Roar Fist, there came a sound like a tiger’s roar splitting the wind.

A surge of energy swept forth, the force of the punch tearing through the air.

With a resounding crash, fists collided.

The burly man staggered back three steps.

Tang Mubai retreated only two!

For the first time in a real fight, he hadn’t fallen behind—in fact, he’d gained the upper hand.

Astonished, Tang Mubai was inwardly elated.

The burly man was also taken aback. “Interesting,” he remarked.

But without pause, he stamped the ground again and lunged at Tang Mubai.

“Tiger Roar Fist!”

Tang Mubai focused his mind, controlled his energy, and channeled it into the attack, meeting the onslaught head-on.

His opponent was out for blood, and Tang Mubai would not hold back.

Six forms of the Tiger Roar Fist: Tiger Pounce, Tiger Charge, Tiger Turn, Tiger Leap, Tiger Rend, Tiger Fury.

Within three short seconds, Tang Mubai unleashed them all in rapid succession. Each strike was more ferocious than the last.

The burly man managed only three attacks before being forced onto the defensive, feet shuffling backward, hands raised hastily to block.

But after just ten seconds, he could feel his arms grow numb and painfully weak under the barrage of blows.

Just as he tried to rally, searing pain stabbed through his chest—three powerful strikes crashed into his body, the force so overwhelming that his internal organs trembled violently. His blood surged uncontrollably up his throat and spurted from his mouth.

A crimson mist sprayed through the air.

The burly man was sent flying in a parabolic arc, skidding along the ground for five or six meters, leaving a bloody trail before coming to a shuddering halt.

The young man leaning against the wall was dumbfounded by the sight.

The burly man’s eyes turned blood-red as he growled in a hoarse, guttural voice, “You… must… die!”

His once impassive face began to contort, protruding outward.

What had been a human visage transformed in an instant into the terrifying head of a vicious wolf.