The Prison Dragon: Unrivaled Medical God

A Tiger Meows at a Dragon

The digital clock on the bedside table read 2:00 A.M.

Sarah finally fell asleep, though her breathing was light and rhythmic, her eyebrows still furrowed as if having a bad dream. Watching her for a moment, I held a mask over my face.

Then I felt it.

An air disturbance. An intention to kill. It felt crude and unrefined, like a colony of angry wasps buzzing around the gates.

I rose silently. I made no noise on the wooden floor. I tucked the duvet around Sarah's shoulders and walked out of the bedroom.

Viper was already out in the hallway, holding a silenced pistol in a grim face.

"Lord," Viper whispered. "Perimeter sensors activated. Three vans. Probably fifty men inside. Armed with machetes and steel pipes. Those are the Black Tiger Gang."

"Fifty? "I puffed my cuffs, "David really is desperate."

"Shall I deploy the squad? Viper asked, flicking the safety off his gun. "We can turn them into swiss cheese before they reach the front door."

"No," I said, walking past him toward the main entrance. "Don't wake Sarah. Guns are too loud."

Viper hesitated. "Lord, you mean to... "

"I've been in a cell for five years," I cracked my neck. Pop, pop. "My joints are stiff. I need a warm-up."

Outside the Sky Garden Villa Gates.

The night air was charged with the perfume of cheap tobacco and engine exhaust. Three battered vans blocked the driveway.

In the floodlit area, fifty thugs stood like a patchwork of scarred, tattooed gangsters bearing baseball bats, machetes, and chains.

At the front stood a giant of a man. He was at least 6'5", shirtless, with a massive tiger tattoo roaring across his chest. This was "Iron Tiger," the leader of the Black Tiger Gang. He was famous in River City for crushing a man's skull with his bare hands.

"Come out, Ethan Wright!" Iron Tiger shouted, slamming the steel bat against the iron gate. CLANG! "We know you're in there! Come out and accept your beating, and maybe we'll spare this pretty house!"

The thugs laughed. "Come out, little turtle!"

The heavy iron gates swung open slowly.

But no army came out. No police. No security guards.

Just one man.

I walked outside calmly with my hands in the pockets of my trousers. The wind tossed about my short hair. I surveyed the fifty armed men as a human surveys the view with an ant colony.

"You're loud." I wasn't shouting, but the wind carried my voice clear. "My wife is sleeping. Lower your voice."

Iron Tiger blinked. He looked around for an ambush. There was no one else, and that cracked him up.

"You? You are the guy David Miller is scared off?" Iron Tiger spat at the ground. "You're skinny as a beanpole! I thought you were some kind of monster."

He pointed the bat at me.

"Listen, kid. David paid us five million to break every bone in your body. But I'm a generous man. Kneel down, let us break your legs, and we'll leave your wife alone. Deal?"

"I have three seconds to go," I whispered.

"What?"

"One."

"Are you deaf?" Iron Tiger signaled his men. "Boys, get him! First one to hit him gets a bonus!"

"Two."

"Kill him!"

They all charged toward me. Fifty men screamed like banshees while scrambling toward me. Each stomp made the ground shake.

"Three."

I took my hands out of my pockets.

System: Combat Mode Engaged. [Sovereign Martial Body: Active]

The first thug reached me—a skinny guy with a machete. He swung the blade at my neck.

To him, it was a fast swing. To me, it was moving in slow motion.

I didn't try to avoid it. I simply raised two fingers and caught the machete blade.

Clang.

The thug's eyes bugged. He pulled, but the blade wouldn't move. It was clamped between my finger, like it was welled there.

"'Steel is too good for you," I whispered.

Snap.

I twisted my wrist. The steel machete shattered into shards, and I kicked him in the chest. He flew backward like a cannonball, knocking down five men behind him.

"What the..." Iron Tiger's jaw dropped.

I didn't stop. I blurred with the swift moves.

I was a wolf among sheep.

I stepped into the crowd. A baseball bat swung at my head. I didn't block. I let it hit my shoulder.

CRACK.

The baseball bat snapped in half. My shoulder didn't even bruise. My body had been tempered in medicinal baths for five years; my skin was as tough as iron.

I grabbed the attacker by the face and slammed him into the pavement.

"Monster!" someone shrieked.

"Attack together! Pile on him!"

Ten men jumped at me at once, trying to bury me under their weight.

I crouched low, gathering Qi in my dantian (lower abdomen).

"Scram."

I released an omnidirectional shockwave of Qi.

BOOM!

The ten men were blasted away as if a grenade went up in the center of the pile. They flew through the air, crashing into the vans, the walls, and the bushes.

Bones snapped. Screams filled the night.

In sixty seconds, forty men were on the ground, groaning in agony. None went dead; I didn't want to stain the driveway with too much blood; none would walk for months.

Only Iron Tiger and his elite lieutenants remained standing. Their hands were trembling as they held the weapons.

I stood centrally among the carnage while adjusting cuffs. I hadn't even broken a sweat, not even a spot of dust on my clothes.

"You-" Iron Tiger took a step backward, pale-faced, "you...you are a Cultivator? A Martial Master?"

In the underbelly, there were rumors of men who alone could take on an army. Legends. Myths.

"I am your nightmare." I walked closer to him then.

"Step back!" Iron Tiger roared, as defiance outweighed fear. "I am Iron Tiger! I have been practicing Iron Shirt Kung Fu for twenty years! My body is impenetrable!"

He ripped off his shirt completely and flexed his muscles. His skin turned a dark, metallic shade as he channeled his energy.

"Die!"

Iron Tiger charged like a rhino, throwing a huge punch aimed at my head.

I watched the fist coming.

"Iron Shirt?" I laughed sarcastically. "Paper."

"Understood, Dragon King."

I walked back into the silent house. The fight had taken less than three minutes. My blood was barely pumping.

I returned to the bedroom. Sarah was still asleep, breathing softly.

I sat back down in the chair by the window, watching the city lights below. Somewhere down there, David Miller was waiting for good news. He was about to get a very nasty surprise.

Sleep tight, River City, I thought. The Dragon is just getting started.