At that, Kong Shuang's eyes went cold and murderous, burning with the fury of a man who'd been toyed with.

He was gripping his sword so hard the veins stood out on the back of his hand.

His jaw muscles went tight, and his teeth ground faintly together.

It was the kind of small reaction a man only shows when he is in a towering rage, or has made up his mind to do something.

That was right. He meant to kill Feng Qizheng.

And not just because of the mockery. He had nowhere else to go.

Killing Feng Qizheng and breaking out was the only way left to him.

Feng Qizheng simply watched him, at ease, the rebar hanging from his hand and swaying idly.

Maybe he had noticed how Kong Shuang was reacting. Or maybe he'd noticed and didn't care, the way a tiger doesn't turn around for a barking dog.

Shing!!!

Cold light flashed, and the air shrieked.

Maybe Kong Shuang had been goaded past bearing by Feng Qizheng's attitude. Or maybe he thought he'd found the right moment to strike.

Either way, he struck!

A man in a hopeless spot can break past his own limits and find several times the strength he normally has.

Kong Shuang's thrust was exactly that.

It was the fastest thrust of his life, quick as lightning.

The tip of his sword hissed through the air like a striking viper.

Its speed came close to the level of a first-rate fighter.

But with a clang, sparks flew.

Feng Qizheng had brought the rebar up in front of him.

Kong Shuang's sword struck the rebar and was stopped.

He refused to give up. He put all the strength in his body into his right hand until the blade bent.

But Feng Qizheng held the rebar across his chest with one hand, and however hard Kong Shuang strained, it didn't move an inch.

Feng Qizheng grinned and sneered. "Got no brains, and you can't fight much either!"

Not much damage, but maximum insult.

Fighting men had always been called coarse fighting men. They…