132: Humanoid crane and exploding vest

In those clear, green-tinged eyes, there was no distraction, only the most primal desire for food.

Chen Yun looked at Wang Fugui, the corner of her mouth curling into a barely perceptible arc. She didn't speak, just nodded gently.

Having received the “imperial decree,” Wang Fugui instantly became like a wind-up tin toy, every part of his body brimming with vigor.

Without a word, he turned around, took large strides, and headed straight for the edge of the scrap metal mountain. There lay an industrial punch press, half-buried in the dirt. The words “Lida Machinery” were still visible on its heavily rusted body. This thing was cast iron, a solid lump. Anyone knowledgeable could tell its weight was definitely over eight hundred catties, and having been stuck in the soil for years, it was practically rooted to the ground.

“Heh, Silly Big Guy.” A hint of mockery just flashed through Sister Hua's mind; she was about to say that this thing needed a forklift, and a heavy-duty one at that.

But the moment her lips moved, the cutting remark was choked in her throat as if by an invisible hand, unable to utter a single syllable.

Wang Fugui walked up to the punch press, bent down, and spread his arms as if embracing an old tree. Due to the force, his fingers dug deeply into the rusted crevices at the bottom of the press, producing a grating, screeching sound.

He took a deep breath.

That breath seemed to suck the air out of the surroundings.

The next second, the muscles on his broad back twisted and bulged like subterranean tree roots! Every latissimus dorsi and trapezius muscle instantly swelled, radiating explosive power.

The white tank top he wore, already faded from washing and stretched taut across his body, let out a mournful cry under the immense strain.

“Screeeech—”

The fabric on the back of the vest was forcefully ripped open, creating a clear tear starting from the shoulder blades!

“Lift!!!”

A deep roar, muffled like dry thunder, erupted from Wang Fugui's chest cavity.

Veins bulged on his arms, and his waist and back exerted sudden force!

That industrial punch press, which seemed fused with the earth, was—amidst a teeth-grinding metallic groan and the sound of tearing earth—forcefully yanked out of the ground by him!

Dirt mixed with rust fragments scattered everywhere!

Everyone present, including the dozens of tattooed men accustomed to violence, were instantly frozen as if a pause button had been pressed.

The air solidified.

Time itself seemed to slow down.

They only saw that man—the one who had just been smiling innocently and asking if there was any meat to eat—now holding a nearly thousand-catty steel machine in his arms, as if... as if an ordinary person were holding a foam box of beer, the kind only bought for the New Year.

Steady!

Unbelievably...

...steady!

Wang Fugui's feet were deeply embedded in the mud, but his upper body remained completely motionless. He adjusted his posture, held the massive punch press securely against his chest, and then began to walk.

“Dong!”

With the first step, his solid foot landed on the ground, and the entire yard seemed to tremble slightly.

“Dong!”

The muffled sound of the second step was like a war drum, beating against everyone's heart.

Due to the extreme exertion, the heat inside his body evaporated at an unprecedented speed. Sweat was no longer slowly trickling; it was gushing out of his every pore like a high-pressure water gun!

In just a few seconds, his already torn vest was completely soaked, clinging tightly to his steel-forged muscles and outlining every heart-stopping contour.

That intensely concentrated masculine aura, mixed with the scent of sweat and sunlight, instantly formed an invisible wave centered around him, sweeping across the entire yard!

An old Jiefang Brand truck, parked in the corner of the yard and used for holding scrap metal, became his target.

Wang Fugui strode rapidly to the side of the truck bed, his arm muscles bulging once more.

“Get... in there!”

He let out a low growl, exerted force from his waist, and directly threw the nearly thousand-catty iron lump he was holding up toward the two-meter-high truck bed.

“BAM—!!!!!”

The deafening crash was like a sudden thunderclap out of nowhere!

The industrial punch press slammed heavily into the empty metal truck bed. The entire old truck suddenly sagged, its four tires groaned painfully under the weight, and the shock-absorbing steel plates of the chassis were instantly pushed to their limit, letting out a screeching “Gaa-zhi—!”

The entire world was silent for three seconds.

Only the truck was still gently swaying from the massive impact.

Wang Fugui casually wiped the sweat from his face. The tattered, sweat-soaked vest clung to him, making him feel extremely uncomfortable. Frowning irritably, he decided the thing was simply in the way.

So, he grabbed the hem of the vest with both hands and yanked it upward!

“Riiiiiip—!!!!!”

This time, it wasn't a subtle tearing sound.

The already precarious, cheap vest was completely ripped in half by an unstoppable force, the sound of the fabric snapping crisp and loud!

Wang Fugui casually tossed the two pieces of rags onto the ground, finally completely liberating his muscular upper body, which resembled a steel sculpture.

His bronze skin shone with slick sweat under the sun. His bulging pectoral muscles rose and fell violently with his heavy breathing, and his eight sharply defined abdominal muscles were like the hardest armor. Sweat snaked down the grooves of his muscles, finally disappearing deep beneath the sweat-soaked waistband of his pants.

In this moment, time seemed to freeze.

Sister Hua's gaze was fixed immovably on Wang Fugui. Her normally shrewd and sharp phoenix eyes were now wide and round, her eyeballs practically threatening to pop out of their sockets.

Her mouth was open, but she couldn't make a sound.

She had been a widow for five years, and in this chaotic urban village, she had seen more men than an ordinary woman sees in a lifetime. Rich ones, aggressive ones, smooth-talking ones, pretentious ones... But where in her life had she ever witnessed a scene like this?

How could this be a man?

This was a monster wearing human skin! A Hercules only found in myths!

Those sweat-drenched abs, that broad chest rising and falling with his breath, those muscle lines filled with primal explosive power... This wasn't some handsome guy, this was...!

An indescribable wave of heat suddenly shot up from her lower abdomen, instantly scorching her entire body. She felt parched, her throat felt like it was on fire, and her heart hammered wildly, threatening to burst from her chest. Her legs turned to jelly; if the lounge chair hadn't been right behind her, she probably would have collapsed onto the ground.

“Oh... my god...”

Sister Hua murmured unconsciously, her eyes completely unfocused, leaving only the daze and desire of pure, primal attraction.

After a brief, deathly silence, the yard erupted in a tsunami of shouts!

“Master Fugui is awesome!!!”

“Holy crap! Awesome—!!!”

Bald Strong and A Biao led the charge. The dozens of tattooed men were instantly energized, roaring at the top of their lungs with all their might. Their faces no longer held their previous indifference and slickness, but were instead filled with the purest worship and fanaticism for absolute power!

The roar shook the roofs of the entire warehouse district, making them hum.

Meanwhile, Wang Fugui, at the center of the storm, seemed oblivious to it all. He simply wiped his sweat, turned his head, looked at the still-massive scrap metal mountain, glanced at the small “trophy” in the truck bed, and then directed his gaze toward Chen Yun, asking in a muffled voice:

“Sis, one isn't enough to eat, right? Can... can I move all of them?”