The Underwear on the Loose — Part 1

An old man with a goatee slowly walked out of a small bakery, dressed in a Qing dynasty-style robe.

His back was slightly hunched, and he held a rolled-up newspaper in one hand as he made his way leisurely down the sidewalk.

Then—

A human-shaped object suddenly flew past him from behind.

It spun violently through the air like a windmill before—

BANG!

It slammed headfirst into a large industrial trash bin.

The man’s head and upper body disappeared deep inside, while his legs dangled helplessly outside. His loose pants had slipped down just enough to expose his butt crack.

The old man slowly turned his head and squinted. “…Oh. It’s Tom,” he muttered.

He chuckled softly. “Funny… Every time I see you, your butt’s always facing me. Maybe I should stop calling you High Knee Tom… and start calling you High Butt Tom.”

Across the street stood a muscular man wearing nothing but a pair of pink women’s underwear—a tight, triangular thong.

It was Dave.

His fist was still raised, tense and clenched. Clearly, he was the one who had sent Tom flying.

Dave slowly crossed the street and walked past the old man.

The old man glanced at him. “That your doing?”

Dave nodded. “Yeah. Who are you, anyway, old man?”

The old man let out a quiet chuckle. “Heh… Most people call me Mr. Sang. I’m the Vice Chairman of the Kung Fu Association.”

The moment Dave heard “Vice Chairman” and “Kung Fu Association,” his eyes sharpened.

He turned toward Mr. Sang, staring at him intensely as his fist slowly tightened.

At last, he might have found a worthy opponent.

Dave studied the old man in front of him. Plain-looking. Frail. Nothing about him resembled a kung fu master.

But if he really was the Vice Chairman of the Kung Fu Association, there had to be something deadly hidden beneath that robe.

Dave narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t let his guard down.

Dave focused all his senses on Mr. Sang, imagining what might come next—a straight punch, a tornado kick, a hundred-hit combo, maybe even some kind of massive energy blast… or worse, instant transmission.

Mr. Sang noticed the sudden change. Dave’s fists were clenched, his eyes locked intensely on him.

He gave an awkward smile. “Hey, hey, kid. Don’t be so tense. I’m not what you think I—”

BAM!

Before he could finish, Dave lunged forward and smashed a fist straight into his face.

Mr. Sang’s face twisted from the impact as his entire body lifted off the ground. He spun through the air like a turbine, limbs flailing wildly, and flew backward toward the bakery.

CRASH!

He smashed through the glass window of the same bakery he had just walked out of and plunged headfirst into a refrigerator.

His head and upper body disappeared inside the refrigerator, leaving his legs and bare ass hanging in the air—almost exactly the same pose as Tom.

Except this time, the impact had torn the back of his robe wide open, leaving his entire butt exposed and twitching slightly in the cold air.

Then his body convulsed.

Without warning, a violent blast of diarrhea erupted from his exposed ass, spraying across the nearby tables and splattering customers, pastries, and freshly toasted bagels with steaming yellow sludge.

Screams erupted throughout the bakery.

People ran. People slipped. Some trampled over each other, while others fainted on the spot. One horrified customer projectile-vomited all over the table.

“O… M… G…” Dave muttered, staring at the chaos in disbelief.

Who would’ve thought the Vice Chairman of the Kung Fu Association could be this weak?

What Dave didn’t know was that Mr. Sang only handled the association’s administrative work. He wasn’t a fighter at all.

Dave shook off the disappointment and reminded himself why he was out here in the first place.

As the Strongest Man on Earth, he needed to find someone worthy of his strength—someone who could truly challenge him.

Anything less would be a waste of the ten years he had spent building his perfectly sculpted muscular body.

So Dave continued roaming the streets in search of a worthy opponent.

Whenever he spotted someone who looked even remotely like a fighter, he would march straight over and challenge them.

Unfortunately, most of them weren’t fighters at all. They were just ordinary people.

In a narrow alley nearby, an old woman shuffled along with a five-dollar bill pinched between two fingers.

“Damn it,” she muttered. “That watermelon-head kid only had five bucks on him. What a waste of my time. What kind of grown man walks around with only five dollars? Doesn’t he have a job?”

It was the Sneaky Granny.

As she turned the corner, she spotted Dave walking toward her. Her eyes immediately sharpened.

Another target.

But as Dave came closer, she quietly scanned him from head to toe. Bare chest, bare legs, no shirt, no pants, no pockets—just a tiny pair of pink women’s underwear.

The Sneaky Granny stared at him for a moment, then lost interest. This guy probably didn’t even have five dollars.

Dave, however, had been studying her just as carefully. She looked old, frail, and harmless, but something about her didn’t feel right.

Within seconds, Dave had already imagined countless devastating techniques the old woman might be hiding. As far as he was concerned, there was no way she was just an ordinary granny.

He slowly clenched his fist, raised one hand, and pointed directly at her. “Hey, you! You suspicious granny! I challenge you to a fight, right here and right now.”

The Sneaky Granny froze.

Holy shit.

Somehow, this nearly naked muscleman had seen right through her. She really wasn’t an ordinary granny—and for a brief moment, she wondered if he somehow knew who she was.

But one look at Dave’s massive, sculpted body was enough to settle the matter. There was no way she was fighting him head-on. Fighting had never been her style anyway. Her extraordinary agility existed for one purpose: stealing people’s money and getting the hell away.

She spun around and took off, and Dave immediately gave chase.

The Sneaky Granny darted around the corner, leaped onto the side of a building, and bounded upward with astonishing speed. Within seconds, she had reached the rooftop and vanished from sight.

Dave rushed around the same corner—

BAM!

He crashed straight into a watermelon-head man walking the other way, sending him flying through the air. Dave barely noticed. He knew he had bumped into someone, but by the time he looked around, both the Sneaky Granny and the man he had just crashed into were gone.

Dave stopped and looked around once more in surprise. “Where’d she go?”

A short distance away, the watermelon-head man came crashing down into a pile of garbage beside a utility pole.

CRASH!

His head struck the sharp metal corner of an old stove with such force that his neck snapped instantly, sending his severed head rolling across the pavement like a watermelon. It rolled several times before finally coming to a stop, revealing a familiar face.

There was no mistaking that ridiculous watermelon haircut paired with that loser face.

It was Benson.

Benson’s headless body slammed into the garbage heap moments later, suffering dozens of fractures from the impact. He died on the spot.

About a minute passed before something strange happened. Benson’s fingers twitched, and his headless body slowly began to move against the pavement.

Back down the street, Dave rubbed his chin. “So weird… I could’ve sworn I bumped into someone.”

Then he shrugged and continued walking.

A moment later, Dark Benson slowly emerged from the garbage pile.

He walked over to his severed head, picked it up with both hands, and placed it back onto his neck. Flesh and bone fused together seamlessly, as if his head had never been torn off in the first place.

Dark Benson tilted his neck from side to side, then let out a low, sinister chuckle.

“I’m back, baby.”

Dark Benson bent his knees slightly, then kicked off the ground.

His body shot forward like a rocket, tearing down the street at terrifying speed without making a sound. Within seconds, he was directly behind Dave.

A quiet voice suddenly whispered beside Dave’s ear. “Excuse me. Passing through.”

BAM!

Dark Benson slammed his shoulder into Dave’s from behind. Dave felt something crash into him with tremendous force, knocking him several steps to the side.

He quickly turned around and saw a demonic figure already standing several meters ahead. It was Dark Benson—but his left shoulder had collapsed inward from the impact, leaving his entire arm hanging at a grotesque, twisted angle.

Dark Benson had intended to send Dave flying. Instead, crashing into him felt like slamming full-speed into a wall of solid steel.

Dave stared at the twisted figure ahead of him. “Did you just shoulder-check me?”

Dark Benson slowly turned around, his mangled arm hanging uselessly at his side. His sinister smile faded slightly as he studied Dave. “What manner of inhuman body is this…?”

With a sudden crack, the twisted bones in Dark Benson’s shoulder and arm snapped back into place. In less than a second, the entire limb had completely healed.

Dave frowned at him. “You’re the inhuman one. You don’t even look human. You look like some kind of vampire… or demon.”

Dark Benson’s sinister smile returned. In an instant, his body blurred and appeared directly in front of Dave.

“Then allow me to return the courtesy,” he murmured coldly. “Let us see how you fare without a head.”

His claw-like hand swept across Dave’s throat in a single effortless motion. Dark Benson stepped back with complete confidence, already certain the fight was over.

One second passed. Then two. Then three.

Nothing happened. Dave was still standing exactly where he had been, while the smile on Dark Benson’s face slowly disappeared.

Dave reached up and rubbed his neck, then glanced around with a puzzled expression. “Huh? Was that a mosquito?”

Dark Benson vanished.

Before Dave could even turn his head, he reappeared directly behind him and unleashed a frenzy of claw strikes across his back.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

His razor-sharp fingers tore through the air at blinding speed, scraping against Dave’s back with the sound of metal striking steel. Dark Benson’s arms blurred as one slash followed another, flashes of reflected light flickering from his claws with every strike.

Within less than twenty seconds, he had attacked dozens of times.

Dave never even turned around.

Instead, his eyes widened with genuine amazement. “How did you get behind me? I didn’t even see you move.”

He rubbed his chin, looking increasingly fascinated. “Hmm… You’re getting more and more interesting.”

Then he rolled his shoulders slightly. “My back was actually getting a little itchy. You know, it’s really hard to reach some of those itchy spots back there by yourself.”

He nodded appreciatively. “Thanks for scratching it for me.”

Dark Benson’s expression hardened. If attacking from behind was useless, he would try the front.

He vanished once more and instantly reappeared in front of Dave, unleashing another storm of claw strikes across his chest and abdomen.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

His claws flashed rapidly across Dave’s massive pecs and abs, each strike producing the same metallic sound as before.

Dave calmly lowered the hand from his chin and placed both hands on his hips, opening his chest even wider as Dark Benson continued attacking.

“The front wasn’t really itchy,” Dave admitted, watching the claws blur across his body. “But now that you’re scratching it, it actually feels pretty good.”

He gave Dark Benson an appreciative nod.

“Thanks again.”

The calm confidence on Dark Benson’s face was beginning to crack. A faint look of frustration crept into his expression as he stared at Dave’s completely unharmed body.

“Impossible…” Dark Benson muttered. “This body defies the very laws of nature.”

Of course, Dark Benson’s existence itself already defied most known laws of nature, but that didn’t seem to bother him.

Then he felt it—his host’s life force was fading fast. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. It was time to retreat.

But before leaving, Dark Benson decided to try one last attack. He suddenly thrust two fingers straight toward Dave’s eyes, the long claws extending from his fingertips like blades.

Dave blinked instinctively.

CLINK!

His eyelids snapped shut around the incoming claws. Even the muscles in his eyelids were too tough for Dark Benson to penetrate.

Dark Benson froze for a fraction of a second, then vanished.

Dave immediately covered both eyes with his hands. “What the fuck?! Who attacks someone’s eyes like that? That’s fucking dirty!”

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. Dark Benson was nowhere to be seen.

This time, he was gone for good.

A few hours later, Benson slowly opened his eyes.

He was lying on the sidewalk with absolutely no idea how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was realizing that some old granny had stolen his last five dollars.

Benson slowly sat up and looked around. Directly above him was a glowing sign:

THE FORBIDDEN GARDEN

He stared at it for several seconds.

“Wait… did I just lose my virginity to a prostitute?”