The Silence Before the Storm:
The sky is a thick, endless gray, with clouds shifting restlessly in the autumn wind. A cool breeze sweeps through the city, sending dried leaves swirling through the streets and paper scraps dancing into the air. The streets are alive, but not with the usual noise of traffic or voices—today, people line the sidewalks, quiet with anticipation, their eyes glued to the figure walking alone down the center of the road.
Khan, the Commissioner—a rank even higher than Grayson’s—steps forward with the presence of a hero from legend. At a modest 163 centimeters, he isn’t imposing in size, but his aura and reputation make him a giant in the eyes of all who watch. His signature oversized police jacket drapes over his shoulders like a cape, its loose sleeves flapping in the wind, adding to the sense of drama around him. His hands rest casually in his pockets—an unintentional yet undeniable gesture of authority. Beneath the jacket, he wears the crisp white shirt and belt of an officer, dark pants, and polished leather shoes. His neatly tilted hat casts a shadow over his eyes, turning his gaze into something distant and legendary—the very pinnacle of the Kungfu World.
Approximately ten meters behind him, a formation of high-level officers walks in respectful silence. Grayson is among them, his posture tense with respect, his eyes trained on the chief’s every move. Alongside them are other notable figures: the vice president of the Kung Fu Association, Mr. Sang, and even a local legend, Brian ‘Golden Eyes,’ all drawn by the allure of seeing Khan in action. They are mere spectators, caught in the pull of Khan’s gravitational presence, each hoping to witness a clash between the chief officer and the man who has taken the city by storm.
The autumn wind picks up, stirring loose paper and garbage bags abandoned on the road. They soar briefly into the sky, only to spiral down again, adding a sense of drama to each step Khan takes. As he walks, a single bright red maple leaf drifts down, carried by the breeze. It dances in the air, weaving through the swirling leaves and bits of debris, before settling directly in Khan’s path.
Khan pauses, slipping one hand from his pocket to raise it, allowing the fallen maple leaf to land softly in his palm. He holds it for a fleeting moment, drawing it close as if it were an invaluable artifact, admiring the delicate power of nature. As a chi master, he believes that chi is the very essence of life, a force that courses through every living thing, binding them together. A barely visible smile graces his lips, marking a moment of connection with the world around him. Then, with a gentle flick of his wrist, he releases the leaf, watching it seize the swirling wind and vanish into the strong gust. Without a word, he tucks his hand back into his pocket and walks forward, each step a testament to his calm strength, a silent declaration of his unyielding presence.
As Khan approaches the end of the street, the crowd’s chatter fades to silence. Before him stands the man responsible for the destruction and fear sweeping through the city: Raymond. He is motionless in front of yet another shattered glass window, his body drenched in a mix of rain and sweat, his eyes clouded and devoid of sanity. Raymond’s chest heaves, fists clenched tight, yet his gaze is vacant.
The spectators hold their breath in silence as Khan stops just a few paces from Raymond, the legendary S-class fighter poised for a confrontation that everyone knows will be etched into memory.
Mr. Sang’s Comment:
Just before the clash unfolds, Grayson, driven by curiosity, turns to Mr. Sang and asks, “I know Khan is formidable, but just how powerful is he, exactly?”
Mr. Sang’s gaze sharpens, filled with gravity. “As an S-Class fighter, his very presence is vital for maintaining peace in our society. Without him, the natural order would be turned upside down, and chaos would erupt like a storm, consuming everything in its path.”
Grayson presses on, urgency lacing his voice, “Aren’t there any other S-Class fighters?”
Mr. Sang shakes his head, his expression darkening. “Yes, there are a few, but they are all inactive. Frank retired from fighting after losing a loved one in a tragedy years ago, leaving behind a shadow in his heart that he can never seem to overcome. Joshua suffered a devastating injury in combat that robbed him of his peak strength, forcing him down to Class A. And then there’s Colin—an undeniably crafty fighter, formidable in his own right. Yet, he relentlessly pursues his own interests, remaining cold-hearted towards those in need and seldom making public appearances to keep away from potential risks. In truth, Khan stands alone as the sole S-Class fighter willing to rise to the occasion.”
Overhearing the conversation, Brian activates his Golden Eyes, and they glow with brilliant golden beams as he scans Khan’s body. He perceives the man oozing with confidence, calm, and an overwhelming aura of natural force that surrounds him—blazing and blinding. Brian gasps in awe, his breath caught in his throat, realizing that Khan’s power far surpasses the normal human limit, burning with an intensity as fierce and relentless as the sun itself.
The True Might of a Legend:
Raymond feels a tangible ripple in the air as Khan’s presence envelops him. It’s as if the very ground trembles beneath the weight of Khan’s power, and an instinctive fear grips him, warning that this man is unlike any adversary he has ever encountered. In a desperate attempt, Raymond spots a broken chair discarded by the sidewalk. With all his energy surging through his veins, he lunges for the chair, grasping it tightly. Summoning every ounce of his strength, he hurls it toward Khan, infusing the projectile with his own explosive force. The chair whirls through the air, vibrating so violently that its edges shimmer and blur, slicing through the wind like a lethal blade aimed straight at its target.
However, Khan doesn’t flinch; his gaze remains steady and unyielding. In a heartbeat, he unleashes a punch, perfectly timed, directly into the path of the hurled chair. The moment his fist makes contact, the chair crumbles, sending a rain of debris into the air, vaporizing into a swirling cloud of particles that scatter harmlessly into the wind. A collective gasp rises from the crowd, their awe unmistakable as they witness the sheer force of that single strike. Even Raymond, typically unshaken, stands frozen, momentarily paralyzed by the overwhelming display of power, unsure of how to respond.
In the heat of the moment, desperation takes hold, and Raymond instinctively launches another attack—a devastating concussion punch, his signature move. He thrusts his fist forward, targeting Khan’s chest with lethal intent. But Khan remains unfazed; he extends his arm once more, this time presenting his open palm toward Raymond’s fist. The punch hurtles through the air, mere inches from its mark, but it never connects. An invisible force—an impenetrable barrier of chi—halts it mid-flight, rendering the attack futile.
Raymond withdraws his hand, eyes widening in a mix of fear and awe as the realization dawns upon him: none of his attacks can even graze Khan. This isn’t just any opponent—this is a force of nature, an unyielding bastion of power. Khan’s gaze remains calm and unwavering, his voice low and steady as he addresses Raymond. “I won’t move an inch from this spot,” he declares, “but I can still defeat you.”
Overwhelmed, Raymond is engulfed by a surge of panic, every instinct screaming for him to flee. He spins around and sprints down the street, desperation propelling him forward. Yet, even as he runs, an inexplicable force drags him backward, pulling him into an unwelcome embrace.
Khan extends his hand once more, channeling his chi to draw the air—and Raymond—back toward him. As he runs, his feet skid backward helplessly against the pavement, the friction doing little to slow his retreat. Each step he takes feels futile, his sneakers squeaking and scraping against the concrete as if pleading for traction. But the force intensifies, lifting him off the ground until he hovers midair, utterly powerless.
In mere moments, he is yanked directly into Khan’s grasp, the legendary fighter seizing him by the collar with effortless ease.
With swift precision, Khan delivers three powerful punches in succession. The first shatters Raymond’s liver; the second ruptures his kidney; the third, his diaphragm, leaves him gasping for breath, the pain overwhelming him. Then, with calm detachment, Khan releases his grip, allowing Raymond to fall heavily to the ground, dropping to his knees in utter defeat before the legendary fighter.
The crowd looks on in awe, stunned by the speed, simplicity, and devastating effectiveness of Khan’s attacks. The fight is over before it truly begins, leaving Raymond kneeling, broken and humbled, before the power of a legend.
Calm After the Storm:
As Raymond kneels before Khan, clutching his broken body, a strange clarity begins to settle over him. The clouds in his eyes, that dark, vacant gaze of madness, seem to dissipate. Slowly, his eyes clear, and a spark of recognition returns—a hint of the honest, kind store owner he once was.
Khan notices this shift, his gaze softening slightly as he watches the transformation unfold. The familiar sharpness, a quiet dignity, flickers back into Raymond’s expression. It’s as though the man he used to be has been brought to the surface, breaking free of the chains of rage and desperation that had driven him.
In that moment, Khan speaks to him with tempered respect. “I respect you, Raymond. You were once a decent man, known for your honesty. But tragedy changed you, clouded your mind. It’s a pity to see you brought to this.” He pauses, allowing the words to sink in. “Usually, a single punch from me would vaporize the organs of any opponent. But for you, I only used 10% of my power. This is my mercy.”
Raymond looks up at him, recognition filling his eyes as he processes Khan’s words, and his once-maddened expression softens with the dawning of his former self.
Khan’s tone turns firm. “I’ll spare your life. But do not ever harm this city or its people again.”
With a final look of silent understanding, Khan turns and raises his hand, signaling his officers. His team moves swiftly, approaching Raymond with respect as they cuff him and guide him to the waiting police car. Even though Raymond is still weak from his injuries, the spark of sanity remains.
Raymond receives medical treatment soon after, and with his sanity restored, he faces a one-month prison sentence for the destruction he’s caused. As he sits in his cell, the city’s memory of his rampage is gradually replaced with the image of the once-honest store owner who found redemption—thanks to the power and mercy of S-Class legend, Khan.
Khan is so legendary!!