Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1101 - 542

The room was pitch black.

Only a few faint rays of light barely penetrated the curtain’s fabric, outlining the silhouette pressed against the wall.

The man had a standard square face, thick eyebrows, and big eyes, which should have appeared bold and imposing.

But at the moment, his face was pale as paper, with blood at the corner of his mouth.

Cold sweat beads gathered on his forehead, sliding down his temples, dripping onto the hand clamped like an iron vise on his throat.

Fang Cheng carefully observed the other’s agonized, contorted features, a flicker of surprise in his eyes:

"How could it be you?"

The "enemy" he’d subdued with a single move turned out to be Chairman Shen’s personal bodyguard from the East City Association.

His memory flashed back to the club’s annual meeting six months ago, where he had a brief encounter with him.

At that time, the place was bustling, applause like thunder.

Fang Cheng stood on the podium, as an outstanding employee, receiving a thick stack of cash envelopes personally awarded by Chairman Shen.

And this man, dressed in a crisp black suit, followed behind Chairman Shen like a steel tower.

Back then, his gaze was as sharp as a hawk, exuding a formidable aura that repelled outsiders.

Even a far sight of him conveyed that latent explosive power.

Fang Cheng hadn’t paid much attention to him, didn’t even know his name.

Just thought he was a dutiful senior enforcer.

He never expected their second meeting would be under such life-or-death circumstances.

As the two confronted each other in the darkness, the atmosphere sank into stagnation.

"Creak—"

Suddenly, the sound of a window being forcibly opened echoed from downstairs, followed by an angry roar:

"Hey! What’s going on upstairs in the middle of the night?"

"Demolishing the place or an earthquake? Can’t anybody sleep!?"

Evidently, Fang Cheng’s sudden explosive move had not only cracked his own floorboards but also disturbed his sleeping neighbor on the eighth floor.

This unexpected outburst shattered the stagnation in the room.

Fang Cheng squinted, ignoring the cursing from downstairs, and leaned forward, lowering his voice, sternly demanding:

"Tell me, why are you hiding in my house?"

The strength in his hand did not waver from recognizing the other, instead, it tightened a bit more.

The man’s throat emitted a faint cracking sound under the pressure.

Due to extreme oxygen deprivation, his once pallid face rapidly flushed to a reddish-purple, eyes widening, pupils bulging, producing a "gurgling" choking noise.

His hands feebly clawed at Fang Cheng’s wrist, feet kicking blindly in the air, his whole person teetering on the brink of suffocating death.

Seeing this, Fang Cheng furrowed his brow slightly.

If this guy died, all leads would be lost.

With a cold snort, he slightly relaxed his grip on the man’s throat.

But his muscles remained tight, holding a defensive stance ready to exert force again if necessary.

"Huff... huff..."

Fresh air rushed into the man’s lungs.

He gasped as if rescued from drowning, soon erupting into a fit of heart-wrenching coughing:

"Cough! Cough cough..."

The coughing was so violent, it shook his entire chest, almost as if he might cough out his lung.

Despite the need to adjust his breathing, he seemed unable to waste a moment, fearing Fang Cheng might strike lethally at any second, he endured the intense pain, raspily speaking:

"Fang... Fang Cheng, don’t hurt me..."

"I’m Ah Le, remember? I’m Chairman Shen’s man!"

Fang Cheng remained expressionless, his gaze still icy, asking again in a deep voice:

"I don’t care who you are. Why are you hiding in my house? Be honest, otherwise, I won’t mind sending you off."

As he spoke, a cold murderous intent locked onto Ah Le.

Ah Le’s face showed fear, as if recalling the terrifying scene of Fang Cheng rushing at him like a wild beast moments before.

The overwhelming strength and speed left this former black boxing champion without even a chance to react.

He dared not conceal anything further, his eyes carried a hint of desperate plea:

"Help... help me..."

"I’m here to ask for your help... Something’s happened to the Chairman, someone wants him dead! Only you can save him!"

Fang Cheng was stunned by the words, and under the dim light, scrutinized his opponent’s eyes.

Fear, urgency, despair, yet no trace of deception.

The genuine reaction one shows on the brink of life and death, not even the best actor could convincingly fake it.

Lowering his gaze, Fang Cheng noticed Ah Le’s hand clutched over his abdomen.

The black jacket was soaked, with hot, viscous blood continuously seeping through his fingers, dripping onto the floor.

He seemed truthful indeed.

Witnessing this, Fang Cheng released his grip.

Thump.

Without support, Ah Le collapsed into a heap against the wall, slumping heavily to the ground.

The earlier intense struggle seemed to have ruptured his abdominal wound.

He curled up in agony, clutching his wound tightly.

An exhausted individual as if just returned from the gates of hell, panting heavily, lacking even the strength to raise his head.

Looking down at his miserable state, Fang Cheng silently shook his head.

Honestly, if he hadn’t noticed the weak pulse indicating injury before entering, intending to capture him for questioning with restraint,

Otherwise, the previous throat strike would have snapped this guy’s neck, sending him straight down below.

Fang Cheng no longer paid attention to the collapsed Ah Le, stepping to the window, pulling the curtain open a crack.