Chapter 115: Eight Steps of Chaos

After landing his strike, the gaunt man fled without looking back, heading directly toward Xie Ding, the leader of the Flying Car Gang, who was standing nearby. With his eyes bloodshot and devoid of all caution, he brought his sharp machete down in a vicious arc.

Everyone assumed that Xie Ding, empty-handed and caught off guard, would suffer the same fate as Ling Bo. But suddenly, there was a blur. The machete missed its mark, and in an instant, Xie Ding appeared behind the man. With a powerful grip on the man’s collar, he yanked him back, sending him crashing to the ground.

"The Eight Steps of Reversal."

Liu Huagang stared at Xie Ding, lost in thought as if speaking to himself. Chen Erpao and Wang Xing had also noticed the extraordinary, mystical, and elusive nature of Xie Ding’s footwork.

Having been wounded and humiliated, Ling Bo lunged forward without hesitation. His long blade flashed, drawing blood with every movement. Amidst the gaunt man’s piercing screams, he was soon reduced to a bloody mess, his tendons severed until he collapsed, utterly incapacitated.

Liu Huagang walked straight up to Xie Ding and asked solemnly, "Was that the Eight Steps of Reversal you just used?"

"Ah, how did you know?" Xie Ding looked shocked, his face filled with disbelief. "How could you possibly know that?"

Liu Huagang, now certain, was overcome with joy. "I never imagined I would see it again after ten years. A decade ago, while I was surrounded by enemies on the mainland and left for dead, a man appeared, used this very footwork to save me, and cared for me for ten days until I recovered. During those ten days, the only thing I learned was that he called himself the 'Mad Old Man.' The footwork he used was identical to yours: the Eight Steps of Reversal."

Xie Ding recovered from his shock and nodded. "You're right, that’s his name. It was indeed the Eight Steps of Reversal. I saved him by chance a year ago, and he’s been living with me ever since. Six months ago, he taught me the technique, but he warned me not to use it lightly."

"Is he injured?" Liu Huagang grew agitated. "Can you take me to see him? If it weren't for him, I would have been nothing but bones by now."

After a moment's hesitation, Xie Ding replied, "Fine. Since Ling Bo is injured and the competition can't continue, I'll take you there. But not too many of you—just the three of you. Otherwise, he’ll surely yell at me again."

Under the awestruck gazes of the crowd, the three men followed Xie Ding away from Pingding Mountain.

Xie Ding lived in an old, dilapidated building in the Tuen Mun district. Along the way, they learned that his father had once been a street fighter who was killed long ago, and his mother had remarried and never returned. His grandparents, who had raised him, passed away years ago, leaving him alone until the arrival of the Mad Old Man, who brought a sense of life to the house.

The home was primitive, furnished only with a broken refrigerator and an ancient television. The room was a chaotic mess, with dirty socks and clothes scattered everywhere.

"Forgive the mess," Xie Ding said, blushing in embarrassment. "It’s just the two of us, so we never really clean up."

Chen Erpao smiled faintly. It wasn't that they didn't clean up; it was clear they hadn't cleaned at all. It was a lifestyle of truly legendary proportions.

They passed through the living room into a small inner chamber. The air hung heavy with the scent of alcohol, and empty bottles were piled on the floor. On the bed lay a disheveled old man, his features obscured by a wild mane of hair and an untrimmed beard. His green clothes were stained with grease, and he was fast asleep, snoring loudly.

Their sudden arrival seemed to wake him. Before his eyes had even opened, a grumpy voice roared out.

"Xie Ding, you brat! Didn't I tell you not to disturb me before mealtime? Are your bones itching for a beating again?"

Everyone turned their eyes toward the embarrassed Xie Ding; it was clear he suffered quite a bit of abuse from the old man.

"Senior," Liu Huagang said, his voice trembling with emotion as he knelt by the bed. "Ten years ago, on a dark, windy night at Shili Slope—do you remember saving a man, risking your life to care for him until he recovered?"

The Mad Old Man suddenly leaped from the bed with the agility of a corpse coming to life. His movement was as swift as a lightning strike. Chen Erpao compared it to his own speed and realized that his prideful swiftness held no advantage against this ragged old man.

"So you’re that brat from ten years ago! Haha! Hurry up and buy me a meal. Living with this boy, Xie Ding, there’s no future—I haven't had a proper feast in weeks. Look at you now, you look like a successful man. You're ten times better than I was at your age—no, a hundred times!" The old man's words brought a round of light laughter.

Suddenly, the Mad Old Man’s eyes glinted, and he began to circle Chen Erpao. Before anyone could react, he vanished, leaving behind several afterimages, moving even faster than Xie Ding’s Eight Steps of Reversal.

"Senior, you..." Chen Erpao exclaimed, confused as to why the old man was attacking him. Sensing no killing intent, he chose to defend rather than counter.

After dozens of exchanges over several minutes, the Mad Old Man stopped and waved his hands. "No more, no more! You young people are getting more monstrous by the day. To possess the martial prowess of a Grandmaster at such a young age—give you another ten or twenty years, and who knows what you'll become! I’m an old man with one foot in the grave, and I’m only at this level. It’s infuriating! I don’t care—you have to buy me a drink, or I won't let this go!"

Chen Erpao couldn't help but laugh. The Mad Old Man reminded him of Zhou Botong from *The Return of the Condor Heroes*—old in years, but with the heart of a child.