Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1177 - 572:

Dusk descends upon Old Factory Street.

The heavens glow with a cozy orange-red shade.

The roadside fried noodle vendor has already fired up, the spatula striking the iron wok with sharp clangs.

Workers zoom by on electric scooters, nearly jamming the thoroughfare.

The whole ancient lane soaks in the evening sunlight's warmth, blending peace and liveliness into a serene vibe.

The glass entrance to Lin Fusheng’s Clinic swings open and closed, the overhead bell tinkling gently.

Within, the heavy aroma of safflower oil and herbal liquor permeates, blended with pain-relief cream scents, forming this spot's distinctive 'fragrance'.

In the compact room, it's packed with battered and puffy gangsters.

Buzzing talk, moans, and brags along with casual chats ebb and flow.

Lin Fusheng dons reading specs, intently resetting a patient's popped-out arm with firm, expert hands.

Wen Huixi weaves through the throng, pouring tea, taking payments, and handing out meds, keeping the place running smoothly.

At a tiny corner table, Wen Xin perches by herself with earphones in, her petite frame bent over her work.

She's utterly oblivious to the clamor nearby, tuning into tunes while zeroing in on her studies.

'Listen, I'm not boasting, but the East City Association totally smashed the Flying Crane Gang this round.'

'On the night they hit the Flying Crane Gang’s Main Hall, that chaos, that clash, wow, it felt straight out of a flick!'

A yellow-dyed haired thug lounges on the bench, spouting tales to nearby wounded folks with saliva spraying.

'Oh please, with your basic fighting chops, you think you're clued in on those heavyweights?'

The chap next to him, arm slung up, pops his illusion without mercy.

'I don't know? And you, this oaf, what makes you so sure?'

The yellow-haired thug flares up like a sparked fuse, bolting upright, face beaming with cocky pride like he's the only clear-headed one in a haze.

'Let me clue you in, there's way more to it than that. I've got the real scoop!'

The moment 'insider information' drops, the surrounding thugs perk up with curiosity.

'Brother Fei, you're always in the loop. Spill it for us.'

'Yeah, East Capital's roads were calm for ages, so what sparked this brawl?'

'True, Brother Fei, gossip's flying everywhere. What's the actual deal?'

With the flattery flowing, the yellow-haired thug dubbed 'Brother Fei' coughs to clear his throat, striking a narrator's pose.

He glances about first, relishing the attention for a bit, then starts his tale slowly.

'So, it all kicks off two years back...'

This yellow-haired thug is none other than Brother Fei himself.

From half a year prior, he's noticeably plumped up and seems quite fed well these days.

Though right now, his mug's all black and blue, left shoulder drooping limp, fresh off an intense turf war no doubt.

'You guys have no idea, East City Association's Chairman Shen has this odd quirk—he fancies pulling in fit young lads as his inner circle.'

Brother Fei chatters lively, teasing the details, then queries:

'He's got four key enforcers beneath him, you all recognize 'em, yeah?'

'Apart from the steadfast Brother Le, there's Smiling Buddha on finances, Iron Fist Ah Hu for brawls, and the final one, the top pick, famed as Hualan Street's sharpest looker, Liang Kun!'

'This Liang Kun's youthful and dashing, gets stuff done quick, and Chairman Shen drags him along wherever.'

'But get this? That jerk's really a mole planted by the Flying Crane Gang!'

'He hid next to Chairman Shen for two solid years, just biding time for the right break.'

'Only a week past, the break hit! That rat Liang Kun caught Chairman Shen heading out for fun, rounded up crews, and set up a road trap.'

'Man, with scores of submachine guns blasting at Chairman Shen’s ride, if bodyguard Brother Le hadn't thrown himself in harm's way, Chairman Shen'd be swiss cheese!'

The listeners around draw sharp breaths, as if caught in the gunfire storm themselves.

'What came next?'

'Next?'

Brother Fei smacks his leg, amping his tone up:

'Now it ramps up! Chairman Shen took a bad hit and bolted to the boonies. Guess who he ran into there?'

After building tension, he drops his pitch, whispering secretively:

'Chairman Shen crossed paths with a genuine kung fu legend.'

'Word is, this legend was in debt to Chairman Shen from way back, so he jumped right in this time!'

'Solo, he charged the Flying Crane Gang’s lair in the dead of night!'

'Left hand hurling Dragon Subduing Eighteen Palms, right poking One Yang Finger, he thrashed their Hall Masters and Incense Masters till they wailed for mom and dad, scrambling in terror, almost wiping their top crew...'

'Number 17! Who's number 17?'

Wen Huixi’s clear call rings out from the counter, cutting Brother Fei’s yarn short.

'Yo! Over here!'

Brother Fei thrusts his good right arm skyward, calling back.

Not missing a beat, he dives back in with zeal:

'After that, the legend shielded Chairman Shen and brought him safe to the East City Association, hauling Liang Kun before the whole outfit.'

'Liang Kun dropped to his knees in fright, pleading hard, but Chairman Shen offed him cool as ice—'snap'—by the code, no hesitation!'

'Following that, the East City Association purged its own, then swung at the Flying Crane Gang, pounding them flat and reclaiming all the Jiangbei zones the Flying Crane Gang had sneakily grabbed earlier, now all stamped under Chairman Shen’s control.'