43: Chapter 43 Less is More = Don't Kill Me? The son-in-law said the carpet is quite expensive.

The high seas, the Poseidon luxury cruise ship.

A massive deck had been converted into an open-air gladiatorial arena.

The sea breeze was mixed with the scent of cigars and champagne, along with a more intense, nauseating smell of blood.

This was a lawless land, a money pit for the wealthy where human greed and cruelty were magnified infinitely.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight's main event is about to begin!"

The host stood in the center of the octagon cage, roaring into the microphone. The veins on his neck bulged like earthworms, looking exceptionally hideous in this frenzied atmosphere.

"On the left, the ultimate weapon from the Free Lighthouse, a war machine with perfect genes—Titan!"

"Roar!" A beast-like roar shook the deck, sending ripples through the wine glasses held by the surrounding audience.

A giant, standing two and a half meters tall with muscles bulging like granite, burst through the cage door.

He was covered in infusion tubes of various colors; the lines burrowed into his flesh like maggots, while a special blue potion was pumped wildly into his blood vessels, causing strange, black-green spiderweb-like veins to bulge on his skin.

It was more than just an accumulation of muscle; it was a morbid overdraft of his biological limits.

With every step he took, the special alloy floor moaned under the unbearable weight, as if it would collapse at any second.

The crowd cheered, champagne rained down, and gamblers waved their betting slips, their eyes filled with a craving for violence.

"And on the right..." The host's tone suddenly became playful, even with a hint of undisguised mockery, as he deliberately drew out his words, "is... uh, an old grandma from the mysterious East?"

The spotlight slammed onto the red corner entrance.

There were no bodyguards, no coaching team, and not even a decent entrance BGM.

There was only a gentle woman wearing loose white practice clothes (the nine-yuan-nine-free-shipping Taobao style), her hair tied up with a wooden hairpin, holding a thermos as she slowly walked out.

Her homey, grocery-shopping attire was completely out of place in this blood-soaked octagon cage, like a sheep that had wandered into a pack of wolves.

Elder Qing Rou looked at the crazed, shouting foreigners around her, felt the restless hormones in the air, and shrank her neck uncomfortably.

"Son-in-law." She turned her head to look at Jiang Chen, who was in charge of carrying the bags, and asked in a low voice, "Why are these people all shouting? Do they want to eat me?"

"No, they're welcoming you." Jiang Chen handed her an iced cola he had just swiped from the buffet area and said with a smile, "Elder, do you remember our slogan?"

"I remember." Elder Qing Rou took a sip of the cola, feeling the pleasure of the bubbles bursting on the tip of her tongue—a novel excitement she had never experienced in her thousand years of seclusion—and her eyes turned resolute. "Convince people with virtue, stop at a point."

"Right, mainly don't kill him; it's hard to compensate. After all, the carpet on this ship is quite expensive, and it's hard to clean if it gets dirty." Jiang Chen patted her shoulder. "Go on, that big guy is your wooden dummy. Once you're done, we'll go eat Australian lobster."

Elder Qing Rou's eyes lit up. She stuffed the thermos and cola into Jiang Chen's hands and walked into the octagon cage with light, graceful steps.

"Boo!" A huge chorus of boos erupted from the audience, accompanied by countless jeers and whistles.

"Is China out of people? Sending a cleaning lady up?"

"That Titan could beat her into meat paste with one punch, right?"

"I bet ten seconds! No, three seconds! She'll turn into a mosaic!"

In the VIP box, the Eagle Intelligence Director swirled his red wine glass and looked down at Jiang Chen. A cruel smile curled the corner of his mouth. "Is this the so-called super scientist? It seems his brain is indeed broken, wanting to use this kind of farce to save face? Data analysis team, prepare to record the moment the Eastern sorcery fails. I want to send this video to the Pentagon as a joke."

"Start!" The referee probably felt this match had no suspense and didn't even state the rules. He waved his hand and scurried out of the cage, afraid that blood would splash onto him.

"Die, bug!" Titan looked at the little thing that only reached his waist. A trace of violent red light flashed in his eyes—not the eyes of a human, but the command light of a pure killing machine.

There was no probing. He directly activated the propulsion device (exoskeleton auxiliary) on his back. Blue tail flames erupted, and he charged like a runaway heavy tank, bringing with him a whistling wind as he crashed straight toward Elder Qing Rou.

That punch was as big as a casserole. The fist wind tore through the air, emitting a harsh screech, and the surrounding air pressure seemed compressed to the extreme in that instant. Forget about a person; even an elephant would die on the spot if it took that hit.

Jiang Chen stood outside the cage, calmly opened a bottle of cola, took a sip, and even yawned out of boredom.

On the field, Elder Qing Rou didn't move. She looked as if she had been scared silly, standing in place, even finding time to tidy up the bangs messed up by the wind.

"Hurry and dodge!" Only a few Chinese spectators who had snuck in covered their eyes, unable to bear watching the impending tragedy.

However, just as Titan's fist was 0.01 centimeters away from Elder Qing Rou's face, she moved.

She didn't dodge, nor did she take it head-on. In her mind, the scene she had watched fifty times on her tablet last night flashed—Jet Li in a Tai Chi suit, performing push hands in the wind.

At the same time, countless physics formulas flashed across her consciousness like subtitles: friction coefficient, centripetal force, conservation of angular momentum...

"Borrow force... hit with force," Elder Qing Rou whispered. She didn't use a single bit of spiritual power.

She just turned slightly to the side, her footsteps sliding half a step to the left according to a peculiar rhythm (actually the optimal grip angle calculated based on the friction formula).

This step looked casual, but it was actually precise to the limit, hitting the exact visual blind spot and force dead angle of Titan's attack.

In that instant, she seemed to have turned into a willow branch swaying in the wind.

Titan's punch, capable of splitting mountains and rocks, brushed past the tip of her nose. The wind it generated couldn't even ruffle her clothes.

Now! Elder Qing Rou's hand, which looked slender and boneless, suddenly landed on Titan's wrist, which was as thick as a tree trunk.

She didn't grab hard; instead, she followed the force of his sprint and gently guided him backward.

This was inertia in physics. The property of an object maintaining its original state of motion became Titan's greatest enemy in that moment.

Titan had been charging fiercely, and being guided by this clever force, he instantly lost his center of gravity, and his entire body lunged forward uncontrollably.

But it wasn't over yet. Elder Qing Rou's other hand had been waiting. She turned her palm into a push, her palm facing Titan's armored chest.

"F = ma."