Chapter 66: The Draw

Zhang Hao stared blankly at Yang Fan before him, a chill creeping into his heart. To send someone flying with a single kick—such power was astonishing.

But with so many people on his side, he refused to believe they couldn't handle a single opponent.

"I told you all to grab something and deal with him!" Zhang Hao shouted to his followers behind him. "It's just one guy—there's no way we should be afraid of him with our numbers. Beat him until he's crippled!"

Prompted by Zhang Hao's words, the others snapped out of their daze. Indeed, Yang Fan was just one person. Even adding Zhou Tong to the mix—what difference would it make?

"Get him!" A student snatched up a stick and charged at Yang Fan, his expression fierce.

The others followed suit, grabbing stones or wooden clubs as they surrounded Yang Fan.

Witnessing this, the nearby students were shaken.

"Damn, they're all armed! That guy's not going to get beaten to death, is he?"

"No one's dying. At worst, he'll be crippled. Even if Zhang Hao's family is wealthy, they wouldn't dare kill someone in broad daylight."

"Should we call an ambulance?"

"Let's wait and see. It's too soon for that."

Many students began to feel sorry for Yang Fan. After all, Zhang Hao's gang of more than a dozen was armed with sticks and stones, while Yang Fan was alone. No matter how tough he was, he couldn't possibly avoid injury. If he went down, a savage beating would surely follow.

"Take your sister and leave. Don't come any closer," Yang Fan said to Zhou Tong, then turned to face Zhang Hao's group.

He didn't use any secret techniques; instead, he relied purely on his physical strength to handle the dozen or so assailants.

Though he refrained from using specialized skills, the boxing techniques he displayed were anything but simple. His movements were so swift that his opponents had no chance to react.

The first to charge at him received a punch straight to the face, sending him flying with a wail of pain.

Sensing danger behind him, Yang Fan didn't even glance back—he simply swung his fist backward.

With a resounding crack, the wooden stick that was coming at him snapped in two.

Yang Fan's fist, however, remained unscathed.

"A bunch of schoolyard bullies," Yang Fan sneered coldly, his eyes taking on a glacial sharpness.

Facing the circle of students, he held nothing back. Each strike was powerful enough to leave its target sprawled on the ground, unable to rise.

The onlooking students were stunned by what they saw.

They watched as Yang Fan singlehandedly took on more than a dozen opponents. With each lightning-fast movement, another attacker was sent flying.

The fight was entirely one-sided.

In less than two minutes, every one of Zhang Hao's followers lay defeated.

They curled on the ground, clutching injured limbs and groaning in pain.

Even the security guards at the school gate, watching from their booth, were too shocked to intervene.

"Damn, is this some kind of martial arts movie? That guy's incredible—he took them all down in just a few moves!"

"If I hadn't seen it myself, I'd never have believed it."

"Who in the world is that guy Zhou Tong brought with him?"

All eyes were on Yang Fan in the center of the chaos, and the crowd was thunderstruck.

No one could follow exactly how Yang Fan moved; all they saw was more than a dozen students sprawled helplessly on the ground, unable to resist.

The defeated students stared at Yang Fan with terror in their eyes.

"He's amazing," Zhou Meiya thought, astonished.

She had never expected her brother's mentor to be so formidable, dispatching their enemies with such ease.

Her previous doubts vanished; after witnessing the fate of Zhang Hao's gang, she was filled with admiration and awe.

"One day, I'll be as strong as Master. Then no one will dare mess with me," Zhou Tong thought, his eyes burning with fervor and his heart surging with excitement.

Being chosen as Yang Fan's disciple—he felt incredibly fortunate. Confidence welled up within him; in the future, he would surely become as powerful as Yang Fan.

"Line up, all of you," Yang Fan commanded, his tone brooking no disobedience as he gazed at the students sprawled on the ground. "Apologize to Zhou Tong and slap yourselves across the face ten times."

"Just you wait," Zhang Hao snarled at Yang Fan, his expression twisted with rage. "This isn't over. As long as he comes to school, I'll keep coming after him—every time I see him, I'll beat him!"

Though he'd been beaten today, Zhang Hao refused to be cowed by Yang Fan.

Zhou Tong still had to attend school. Inside the campus, Zhang Hao could act with impunity, and Yang Fan had no way to stop him.

Yang Fan fixed him with a cold stare, a hint of a smile curling at his lips.

"If you have the guts, kill me! As long as I'm alive, Zhou Tong won't have a single peaceful day at this school," Zhang Hao continued to bluster, unafraid as always.

He was certain Yang Fan wouldn't dare go too far—this was a country ruled by law, after all.

If the police got involved, Yang Fan wouldn't escape unscathed.

"Then I'll start with you," Yang Fan said, striding over to Zhang Hao, seizing him by the throat with one hand, and lifting him off the ground.

Zhang Hao's feet left the earth, his face turning red as he struggled for air.

Before the astonished onlookers, Yang Fan began to slap Zhang Hao across the face, the sharp cracks echoing through the air.

He didn't hold back; Zhang Hao howled miserably under each blow.

Hearing the relentless slaps, the students watching couldn't help but shiver, as if they themselves were receiving the punishment.

Before long, Zhang Hao could endure no more and pleaded for mercy.

"Stop! Please, I'm sorry! I admit I was wrong," Zhang Hao begged, utterly broken.

Yang Fan's blows were merciless; Zhang Hao's teeth were loosened, the pain unbearable. Another moment of this, and his face would be ruined.

Yang Fan tossed him to the ground, then surveyed the group of gang members with a cold, forbidding gaze.

Under the weight of his terrifying stare, none of them dared meet his eyes. One by one, they shuffled over to Zhou Tong and lined up.

One after another, they apologized to Zhou Tong and then began slapping themselves across the face.

No one dared to go easy—they struck hard, their cheeks swelling red.

Many students in the crowd felt a secret satisfaction watching Zhang Hao's gang get their comeuppance.

After all, many of them had suffered at the hands of Zhang Hao and his cronies but had never dared speak out.

"If any of you try this again, don't blame me for being less than merciful," Yang Fan said, his gaze icy. "Don't take my words lightly—you won't be able to bear the consequences."

They hurriedly promised, swearing never to trouble Zhou Tong again.

"And you—come here and apologize," Yang Fan snapped at Liu Yan, who stood frozen nearby.

Liu Yan didn't dare disobey. She rushed over and apologized to Zhou Meiya, then slapped herself across the face.

At that moment, two white vans pulled up at the school gate, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

The doors opened, and more than twenty men poured out, wielding machetes and iron rods.

The moment Zhang Hao saw them, his face broke into a triumphant smile.

Clearly, someone had called in reinforcements for him.

"Who dared lay a hand on my boys? Step forward!" shouted a youth with bleached blond hair, glaring in Yang Fan's direction.

At the sight of these newcomers, the students scattered, hiding in the campus store, too frightened to come out.

Everyone recognized the man—the notorious leader of Zhang Hao's gang.