The sudden scene stunned everyone.
Liu Miaomiao's red lips parted slightly, her face bright with shock and excitement.
Wang Yao, Shen Yimei, and the others even applauded, celebrating. None of them had expected Lin Xinghai to fight like this. He truly lived up to the title of provincial Sanda champion.
As for Wang Damao and his gang, their expressions were frozen in disbelief.
A joke, right? Was this "white pig" from a backwater shelter really the same man who just dismantled them so effortlessly?
Lin Xinghai, however, only frowned. My strength is still too weak.
He had clearly outclassed the opponent, yet even after taking a full punch, Wang Damao wasn't immediately knocked down. Bruised and shaken, yes—but not broken. That wasn't good enough.
If Wang Damao knew what Lin Xinghai was thinking, he would probably cough up blood. Just one punch had nearly cracked his ribs. Worse, his opponent's speed was terrifying, making him impossible to pin down.
"Don't just stand there—go together!" Wang Damao roared, rallying his men. It was their only chance.
But Lin Xinghai moved first. A single stride, another unhesitating punch—this time aimed at the head.
Even with his guard up, Wang Damao couldn't keep pace. He saw the strike coming from the left, raised his arm to block—but the fist shifted at the last instant.
Boom!
The blow smashed across his face. His cheek warped under the impact, teeth scattering as blood sprayed.
Before he could recover, pain flared from his abdomen. Lin Xinghai had driven a knee into his stomach, launching him half a meter off the ground.
Wang Damao hit the floor, curled like a shrimp, spasming and utterly helpless.
The fight didn't stop there. As the rest of the thugs closed in, Lin Xinghai's counterattack unfolded like instinct. An elbow to the ribs, a kick to the gut, a strike to the throat—every blow targeted a weak point, every motion seamless.
Ten seconds later, it was over. Five men lay groaning on the ground.
The silence that followed was broken by gasps. Liu Miaomiao and the others were stunned. So were the onlookers. Even Lin Xinghai himself felt a ripple of surprise.
Those moves—so fluid, so precise—weren't just from his new strength. They came from years of training. This body's original owner had been a Sanda champion. The fighting instincts carved into muscle memory were still there, and now, combined with his enhanced physique, the results were terrifying.
A smile tugged at his lips. This was good news.
He crouched down, palm open toward the groaning gangsters. His tone was cold. "Points."
Though unwilling, Wang Damao and his men trembled as they fished their ID cards from their pockets.
"How do you transfer them?" Lin Xinghai asked, turning the card in his hand.
"I know." Shen Yimei hurried over, grabbing the fallen transfer machine. "Brother Lin, let me do it. How many points?"
"All of them," Lin Xinghai said calmly.
Wang Damao's breathing turned ragged, fists clenched in silent fury—but no one dared object.
Shen Yimei hesitated for only a second before completing the transfer. "It's done. The five cards together had 320 points. With your own 10, you now have 330."
Lin Xinghai nodded, taking back his card with a satisfied smile.
Wang Damao covered his bloodied mouth. "Can… can we go?"
Lin Xinghai's eyes chilled. "You can. But think carefully before you try anything again."
He pulled a badge from his pocket, flashing it before them.
The gangsters stiffened. A mercenary badge.
"You can get out."
They scrambled to their feet and fled in disgrace. But as they glanced back, Lin Xinghai caught the flicker of hatred and resentment in their eyes.
His brow furrowed. Being hated by men like this could be trouble. Still, he couldn't kill them here. In the shelter, brawls were tolerated, but killing was a red line the security team would never ignore.
I need more strength. My own power is the foundation.
Even so, he didn't regret today. Backing down would only invite worse.
Besides, with the system at his side, his rise would be swift. Soon enough, he wouldn't be the hunted—he would be the hunter.
Three hundred points from just a handful of thugs. How many did the entire Axe Gang control? The thought made his blood stir.
Meanwhile, cheers erupted. Liu Miaomiao and the others, even the onlookers who had been blackmailed, shouted Lin Xinghai's name. For once, they felt vindicated.
The crowd slowly dispersed after ten minutes. Behind closed doors, Liu Miaomiao and her friends sat down again to discuss work.
The fight had left its mark. In the shelter, even survival demanded strength.
Their eyes lingered on the flyer from Ji Yuan, describing the genetic medicine. One dose costs 300 points—more than most could dream of.
Their original plan had to change. They needed higher-paying work, no matter how difficult.
Joining the military or a mercenary group offered a discount, just 100 points for a bottle. But both paths carried staggering risks. Many never lived to spend their rewards.
After nearly an hour, the women reached a decision. They would seek safer, higher-paying positions within the shelter itself.
Throughout, they kept asking for Lin Xinghai's opinion. Their enthusiasm made him uncomfortable. Wang Yao, especially with her sultry charm, pushed his patience with every teasing glance. If they'd been alone, in private, he might not have resisted.
He forced himself to stay composed, offering practical advice: target agency jobs in the shelter. The pay was good, and more importantly, such positions carried a measure of protection. If Wang Damao's men caused trouble again, they'd hesitate before crossing someone tied to the authorities.
When the women finally left, Lin Xinghai wasted no time. He locked the door, pulled out the vial of genetic medicine, and whispered to himself:
"No matter what, I need to become a genetic optimizer as soon as possible."