His Brother Was Crippled, So the High-Martial Arts Prodigy No Longer Stayed Silent

Han Yi still remembered how, before Grandpa breathed his last, he clutched Han Yi with a hand like a withered branch and said, “The Han family’s Xingyi Fist trains your backbone, not a set of tricks for killing.”

Only when someone broke his younger brother’s back and tossed him by the river did Han Yi silently wipe the blood from his brother’s face and pull the rusted Eight-Slash Saber from beneath the bed.

Three months later, the word on the streets of Jiangcheng was that Han Yi, the dockworker who carried cargo on his back, had taken on half the city’s gangs with nothing but a knife.

Sitting in a pool of blood, Han Yi gazed north and murmured, “Grandpa, your grandson’s backbone... never bent.”