Isekai Murim In The Apocalypse

"I am the young master, A disciple of the Iron Tiger Sect—Min Jia! And I will not tolerate this disre—"

Min Jia's speech was abruptly interrupted as Aziel called out from across the room, striding purposefully toward him.

"I have no idea what any of that means," Aziel said, "but it sure sounds grand. You must be a special kind of customer."

Min Jia's stern expression cracked into a grin. "Looks like not everyone here is a fool, after all. That's right. I am special, and yet they dare—"

Aziel, now closer, walked past the girl sprawled on the floor and pointed toward the door leading outside, cutting Min Jia off midsentence.

"Yes, you're so special that there's only one place you truly belong," Aziel sneered. "Outside with the trash, where all the filth is. Get the hell out."

Peng Wei, still reeling from the earlier commotion, opened her mouth to speak but fell silent when Aziel raised a hand, signaling her to stay quiet. Min Jia's face turned a furious shade of crimson, veins bulging on his forehead. He pressed a palm to his temple, exhaled to steady himself, and let out a slow, mirthless chuckle.

"Ha… Hahahaha."

Aziel was about to say more when suddenly—

Bam!

A fist slammed into Aziel's stomach. The impact knocked the air from his lungs in a harsh gasp, launching him across the room. He skidded across the floor and finally came to a stop against one of the dining tables, his back slamming into its side.

It was Min Jia's punch. Aziel had sensed it coming and tried to dodge, but it was too swift, surpassing even the agility boost he'd given himself. Slumped against the table with his head hanging down, Aziel appeared unconscious. Every eye in the building was fixed on his limp form; not a single person dared to move.

Min Jia lowered his fist, sighed, and casually flicked a lock of hair back into place. "I told you—I'm the head disciple of the Iron Tiger Sect. Know your place, you impertinent fool," he said, glaring at Aziel's inert figure.

From a private room, Master Xun observed the spectacle with arms folded across his chest, an unamused expression on his face. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"Have I misjudged him?" Master Xun silently wondered.

Min Jia then turned his attention to Peng Wei and the young woman he had struck moments earlier. Both stared at Aziel, their faces filled with worry. Seizing the opportunity, Min Jia grabbed Peng Wei by the hair and yanked her upright.

"As for you," he snarled, "how do you plan to make amends for the humiliation you've brought upon me?"

Cold sweat trickled down Peng Wei's brow. She readied a trembling response, but before she could utter a word—

"Aaah… that hurt…"

A low, pained voice echoed across the room. Everyone's gaze swung back to the mound of broken tables where Aziel had crashed. To their astonishment, Aziel was slowly, painstakingly pulling himself to his feet. Splinters clung to his clothes, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Master Xun's eyes widened. The dour expression he wore melted into an intrigued grin.

"That's the third time today…" Aziel rasped, pressing a hand against his aching ribs. "Does everyone think I'm just some punchline? That they can beat me down whenever they please?" Despite the pain, a crooked smile tugged at his lips. "Ha… haha. It's almost funny—I can't help but laugh."

With his head bowed, Aziel began to stagger toward Min Jia, drawing closer with each uneven step.

"Hey… answer me something," Aziel said, finally lifting his gaze to stare Min Jia straight in the eye. "Do I look like a joke to you?"

The look on Aziel's face was neither purely angry nor fearful. He wore a manic grin. Spotting this, Min Jia released Peng Wei; the young woman collapsed, scrambling backward to distance herself from the furious disciple. Meanwhile, several of Min Jia's companions, who had been observing from the adjacent room, emerged one after another.

"Is he a martial artist? What realm has he cultivated to?" one murmured.

"He has no Qi," another answered. "He's nothing more than a street urchin, from what I can sense."

"Trying to brawl with Min Jia without being a cultivator? Heh… talk about foolish," someone else added with a scornful chuckle.

Their collective disdain only fueled Min Jia's mounting rage. He glared at Aziel. "All of you, shut up and stay back. Don't interfere," he barked. "He dares to humiliate me? I'll make him regret the day he was born."

Ignoring the fact that he was outnumbered and potentially outmatched, Aziel showed no intention of backing down. His limping gait abruptly shifted into a reckless sprint as he charged toward Min Jia and his comrades.

Min Jia took the lead, bracing himself for an incoming strike. He expected a punch or a kick and readied himself to counter whichever blow Aziel might throw. Yet, as Aziel closed in, he hurled neither a fist nor a foot. Instead, he flung something he'd been dragging behind him, something concealed from sight in the chaos.

A large tablecloth—a remnant from one of the tables Aziel had crashed into—unfurled through the air, billowing into Min Jia's face. The fabric was so broad that it instantly blocked Min Jia's line of sight, giving Aziel a precious second to slip out of view.

Min Jia slashed the tablecloth aside with a fierce wave of his arm, expecting to find Aziel still in front of him. But his eyes widened in shock when he realized Aziel was no longer there.

A sudden chill raced down Min Jia's spine. Aziel's presence was behind him. Spinning in place, Min Jia glimpsed the arc of a roundhouse kick heading straight for him. He raised his arms reflexively to block. Yet before the kick could land, his vision went red.

Aziel had feinted the kick and spat blood directly into Min Jia's eyes. Blinded by the warm, crimson fluid, Min Jia found himself utterly unable to defend against the follow-up.

With the full torque of his hips, Aziel sent a fist crashing toward Min Jia's jaw.

Bam!

The blow connected squarely against Min Jia's chin, delivered with all the force Aziel could muster. Yet Min Jia barely staggered. He made no sound—no grunt, no gasp. His jaw hardly budged.

Instead, his entire frame began to shake, though not from pain or shock. It was raw, unbridled fury coursing through every muscle in his body.

"H-Hey… that kid actually landed a hit on Min Jia…" one of the disciples whispered in disbelief.

"M-Min Jia must have let him," another stammered. "No way he'd just get tagged like that…"

"Look at Min Jia's face. He's absolutely furious!" a third exclaimed.

Aziel grimaced inwardly, sensing that his clever tactic hadn't accomplished much more than enraging his opponent even further. "Damn it… This is why I hate going up against awakened cultivators," he muttered under his breath.

Realizing he was in serious danger, Aziel started to retreat, eager to formulate a new plan. But the moment he tried to step back, his foot refused to move.

He glanced down, alarmed to find Min Jia's foot planted firmly over his own, pinning him in place.