The leader’s hand reached for Rey with confidence born from years of successfully intimidating weaker street children.

Rey’s response was immediate and calculated.

He twisted his body—movement economical and precise despite the physical weakness—allowing the grasping hand to pass centimeters from his chest while simultaneously striking upward with his palm.

The blow connected with the older teenager’s wrist, not hard enough to break bone but sufficient to hyperextend the joint painfully.

The leader jerked back with startled curse, shock replacing his confident expression.

"Little bastard—"

Rey didn’t give him time to recover. His consciousness retained combat knowledge refined through years of survival in H’Trae and tactical training in True Realm, even if this body lacked muscle memory or cultivation foundation.

He launched himself forward with speed that his malnourished frame shouldn’t possess, driving his shoulder into the older teenager’s midsection.

The impact drove breath from the leader’s lungs and sent him staggering backward into one of his companions.

"Get him!" the leader wheezed, rage replacing his initial shock.

The other four older beggars moved simultaneously, their coordination suggesting they’d worked together to suppress resistance before.

Two flanked from left and right while the other two moved to block escape routes—standard encirclement tactic for street brawls where numerical advantage mattered more than individual skill.

Rey’s enhanced perception tracked all five positions despite his body’s limitations.

The consciousness inhabiting Lin Feng’s flesh possessed capabilities that transcended physical constraints, allowing tactical awareness that exceeded what any street urchin could naturally demonstrate.

’No Ether to channel. No cultivation techniques to deploy. Just biomechanics and tactical positioning against opponents who are larger, stronger, and better nourished.’

The calculation was clinical even as his body moved with desperate intensity.

The rightmost attacker reached him first—a teenager maybe seventeen years old, swinging a crude punch aimed at Rey’s head with force that would have knocked him unconscious if it connected.

Rey dropped beneath the swing, feeling displaced air ruffle his matted hair as the fist passed overhead. He drove his own fist upward into the attacker’s exposed ribs with precision targeting the floating ribs that offered least protection.

The teenager gasped, his momentum carrying him forward into a stumbling collision with the alley wall.

But the leftmost attacker was already closing, arms extended to grapple rather than strike—smarter approach against smaller opponent who’d demonstrated unexpected speed.

Rey couldn’t avoid the grapple completely. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The older teenager’s superior reach meant an escape required movement that his weakened legs couldn’t execute quickly enough.

So instead of avoiding, Rey moved into the grapple deliberately.

He allowed the attacker’s arms to close around his torso, then immediately drove his knee upward into the teenager’s groin with force born from desperate calculation rather than athletic capability.

The older beggar’s grip loosened instantly as agony overwhelmed his tactical planning.

Rey twisted free, using the moment of weakness to position himself where the remaining attackers would interfere with each other’s approach vectors.

His breath came in ragged gasps now.

This body’s stamina was severely limited by malnutrition and lack of training. Each exchange depleted reserves he couldn’t replenish without rest and proper food.

’Can’t sustain prolonged combat. Need to end this quickly or my physical limitations will overwhelm tactical advantage.’

The leader had recovered enough to rejoin the fight, his expression carrying fury that transcended simple anger.

Being embarrassed by a street urchin half his size represented an intolerable loss of face that demanded violent reestablishment of hierarchy.

"Hold him down!" the leader snarled at his remaining companions. "I’ll teach this little rat what happens to those who forget their place!"

The four less-injured teenagers moved with renewed coordination, clearly planning to overwhelm Rey through combined assault that his limited stamina couldn’t counter indefinitely.

Rey’s mind worked through options with speed his exhausted body couldn’t match.

Direct combat was a failing strategy.

His tactical knowledge provided temporary advantage, but physical limitations meant each exchange cost him more than it cost them. Eventually—probably within the next minute—his legs would give out and they’d pin him down for the beating the leader clearly intended to deliver.

He needed to change the tactical framework entirely.

Rey’s gaze swept the alley with enhanced perception that catalogued every potential resource despite his body’s distress.

Broken bricks from a crumbling wall.

Discarded wooden plank.

Scattered refuse that included glass shards and rusted metal fragments.

The younger beggars huddled against the opposite wall, watching with expressions mixing fear and dawning hope as their tormentor faced unexpected resistance.

’Weapons. The environment. These are all tactical elements I can leverage.’

The four attackers closed simultaneously, their spread formation designed to prevent the evasion tactics Rey had used successfully so far.

Rey grabbed the wooden plank with movement that appeared desperate but was actually precisely calculated. The improvised weapon extended his reach while providing a striking surface that would hurt his opponents more than his own fists could manage.

He swung the plank in a wide arc that forced the attackers to halt their advance or risk taking solid blows to vulnerable areas.

The momentary hesitation was all Rey needed.

He reversed his grip on the plank and drove the end like spear into the nearest attacker’s solar plexus—a precise strike that disrupted the diaphragm and temporarily paralyzed the teenager’s breathing.

The attacker collapsed, gasping for air that his shocked respiratory system couldn’t process.

Three remaining attackers plus the leader—odds improving but still heavily disadvantaged given his physical state.

Rey’s legs trembled with exhaustion that threatened imminent collapse. His enhanced consciousness could identify optimal tactical responses, but his body lacked capacity to execute them much longer.

’One more exchange. Maybe two. Then I’m done.’

The leader’s expression showed recognition of Rey’s deteriorating condition. His fury had been tempered by tactical calculation—wait for the smaller opponent to exhaust himself completely, then deliver overwhelming retribution.

"Surround him," the leader ordered with cold precision. "Don’t attack yet. Just keep him moving until he drops."

It was a sound strategy.

Rey’s exhaustion was obvious despite his combat effectiveness.

All they had to do was force him to continue expending energy defensively and his collapse became inevitable.

But the leader had made a critical miscalculation.

He’d assumed Rey was alone.

"Now!" Rey shouted toward the younger beggars.

The girl with sharp eyes—the one who’d warned him about the older beggars’ approach—didn’t hesitate.

She grabbed one of the broken bricks and hurled it with surprising accuracy at the nearest attacker.

The brick struck the teenager’s shoulder, not hard enough to cause serious injury but sufficient to disrupt his focus.

Other young beggars followed her example with desperate courage born from watching someone their own age successfully resist the oppression they’d endured passively.

Bricks, refuse, glass shards—impromptu projectiles flew from a dozen small hands toward the older teenagers who’d terrorized them for months.

The tactical situation transformed instantly.

The older beggars found themselves facing not one exhausted opponent but coordinated assault from victims they’d assumed would remain passive prey.

Rey pressed the advantage immediately despite his physical distress.

He drove the wooden plank into the leader’s knee with force targeting the joint structure specifically.

The strike didn’t break bone but hyperextended ligaments painfully, dropping the leader to a kneeling position that eliminated his height advantage.

Rey’s follow-up strike caught the leader across the jaw—controlled blow that rattled his consciousness without causing permanent damage.

The leader collapsed, his coordinated assault disintegrating as his remaining companions found themselves overwhelmed by projectiles and Rey’s continued targeted strikes.

"Enough!" one of the older teenagers shouted, hands raised in surrender as a glass shard drew blood from a shallow cut on his cheek. "We’re leaving!"

They retreated toward the alley entrance with speed suggesting their earlier confidence had evaporated completely.

The leader struggled to rise, blood trickling from split lip, his expression cycling between rage and dawning fear as he recognized his authority had been shattered.

Rey approached with a wooden plank held in stance suggesting he was prepared to deliver another strike if necessary.

"Your protection fee," Rey stated quietly, his voice carrying weight that transcended his body’s youth. "I think the terms have changed."

The leader’s hand instinctively moved toward the cloth pouch at his waist—containing whatever coins and valuables he’d extorted from other victims earlier in the day.

Rey extended his free hand with a gesture that made the demand explicit.

For a moment, rebellion flickered in the leader’s eyes.

But his gaze swept across the assembled younger beggars—no longer cowering victims but potential a mob that had demonstrated willingness to resist under competent leadership—and pragmatic calculation overwhelmed wounded pride.

He removed the pouch and placed it in Rey’s extended hand with expression mixing humiliation and barely controlled fury.

"This isn’t over," the leader muttered, voice carrying a threat that lacked conviction after his decisive defeat.

"Yes, it is," Rey replied with cold certainty. "This territory isn’t yours anymore. Find somewhere else to prey on the weak, or next time I won’t stop at embarrassing you."

The leader and his companions retreated, their departure marking complete reversal of the alley’s power dynamics.

Silence settled as the younger beggars processed what had just occurred.

Rey stood in the alley’s center, wooden plank still gripped in trembling hands, his body threatening to collapse now that adrenaline was fading and exhaustion demanded payment for energy he’d borrowed from nonexistent reserves.

He forced himself to remain upright through sheer willpower, recognizing that showing weakness now would undermine the authority he’d just established.

The girl with sharp eyes approached first, her expression mixing awe and cautious hope.

"How did you..." she started, then trailed off as though unable to articulate the question properly.

Rey let the wooden plank fall, no longer possessing strength to maintain the grip.

"I had an epiphany," he stated, voice carrying manufactured conviction that concealed his true nature. "Sudden understanding about how the world actually works."

He met the eyes of each young beggar in turn, his gaze carrying intensity that commanded attention despite his obvious physical distress.

"Gather around," Rey ordered with authority that transcended his apparent age and circumstances.

"I have some things to say."

[A/N: This arc will have a certain surprise that will make you readers pleasantly surprised. Can you guess what it is?]