Chapter 67: Methods

“Brother Yang, it was that guy who hit me. You have to help me get revenge!” When Zhang Hao saw Xue Yang approach, it was as if he had seen hope itself. He ran over, pointed at Yang Fan, and spoke with bitter resentment.

Xue Yang was a thug who followed a prominent figure and had over a hundred underlings. He had recruited Zhang Hao to collect protection money at school for some pocket change. When Xue Yang heard that his little brother had been beaten up, he immediately brought his men.

“Damn, how did you end up in this state?” Xue Yang looked at Zhang Hao’s swollen, pig-like face and couldn't help but laugh and curse. Glancing at the dozen or so students nearby, their faces also bore red, hand-shaped marks—an eyesore.

“Brother Yang, please stop laughing at me. Help me get revenge instead.” Zhang Hao forced a bitter smile, cursing inwardly. With Xue Yang here, Zhang Hao was certain that Yang Fan would be torn to pieces this time. More than twenty men, all wielding either machetes or iron pipes—it was bound to get brutal. He didn’t believe Yang Fan could handle so many alone.

“Don’t worry. It’s just one guy, right? I’ll make sure he’s crippled for you,” Xue Yang boasted arrogantly. “No one touches my people on my turf without paying the price.”

“Brother Yang, make sure he’s crippled for good,” Zhang Hao said venomously, his eyes burning with hatred. Being so viciously beaten by Yang Fan in front of so many people had left him utterly humiliated.

“Heh, don’t worry. I won’t let you down,” Xue Yang replied with a sly grin. “Bring your girlfriend over tonight. It's been a while since I had a schoolgirl.”

“Of course, Brother Yang! I’ll bring her for you,” Zhang Hao grovelled, eager to please. It was just a girlfriend, nothing he cared about—he was only playing around anyway. He had no real feelings for Liu Yan; it was all just a game.

“Boy, get over here and kneel! If you please me, maybe I’ll spare your life,” Xue Yang swaggered over to Yang Fan, his face full of arrogance. Behind him, his twenty-odd men glared at Yang Fan with murderous intent. At Xue Yang’s order, they wouldn’t hesitate to attack.

These men were all thugs, the scum of society, ruthless to the core.

“Do you really think you’re qualified to say that?” Yang Fan’s gaze was cold as he locked eyes with Xue Yang, an icy glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you’ve got quite the attitude. Since you’d rather drink the hard way than the easy, don’t blame me for what happens next,” Xue Yang said, amused by Yang Fan’s swagger.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he swung his machete at Yang Fan.

At this brutal sight, some people screamed, too afraid to watch.

A shriek rang out—Xue Yang’s wrist was broken by a single karate chop from Yang Fan, and his machete clattered to the ground. Yang Fan followed up with a savage kick to Xue Yang’s chest; a sickening crack sounded as his chest caved in. Xue Yang was sent flying, landing heavily on the ground, howling in agony as blood spurted from his mouth.

Many people opened their eyes, startled to see that it was not Yang Fan who was hurt, but Xue Yang sprawled on the ground. Everyone was stunned.

“Get him! Hack him to death!” Xue Yang, clutching his broken chest and consumed with rage, screamed at his men. He felt as though he’d made a round-trip to hell, barely escaping death. The pain in his chest nearly made him faint.

Obeying Xue Yang’s order, the twenty-plus thugs charged at Yang Fan, their machetes gleaming in the sunlight. The onlookers squeezed their eyes shut, unable to watch the carnage.

Zhou Tong led his little sister away to a safe distance, watching anxiously. He believed his teacher would be fine.

Surrounded by over twenty attackers, Yang Fan’s eyes gleamed with murderous intent. With a surge of energy and a secret technique, spiritual power coursed through his body, filling him with explosive strength and swiftness.

The first to rush in swung a machete viciously at Yang Fan’s head. Without a hint of mercy, Yang Fan seized the attacker’s wrist, twisted it with a sudden burst of force, and a scream of pain erupted—the wrist was snapped, the machete clattering to the ground. With a lightning-fast kick, Yang Fan sent the man flying, catching the machete as it fell.

A bloodthirsty light flashed in his eyes as he turned on his assailants. His movements were agile and elusive; he easily dodged sneak attacks, while the machete in his hand danced through the air, slicing through the chaos like a blade through silk.

Screams of pain echoed as wounds opened on the attackers, blood spraying everywhere.

In less than two minutes, all twenty-some men lay groaning on the ground, cut down by Yang Fan’s machete. The ground was slick with blood, the scene gruesome beyond words.

Many students screamed in terror, their faces pale as sheets.

“Tell me, should I kill you?” Yang Fan stood over Xue Yang, looking down at him coldly, murder in his eyes.

Meeting Yang Fan’s terrifying gaze, Xue Yang turned deathly pale, his eyes brimming with terror.

“Please, don’t kill me! I’ll never dare mess with you again—never!” Xue Yang begged in terror, desperate for his life.

He had no doubt that this man would kill him without hesitation.

“Oh? Don’t you want revenge?” Yang Fan asked with a chilling smile.

To Xue Yang, that smile was like that of a demon, making his scalp prickle.

“I swear, I’ll never cause you trouble again—please, let me go!” Xue Yang pleaded. At this point, he had no thought of revenge; only a death wish could drive him to try.

“Remember, these two siblings are under my protection. If anything happens to them, you’ll be the first to die,” Yang Fan said coldly.

Xue Yang nodded frantically, promising he would look after Zhou Tong in the future.

“Then get lost.” Yang Fan turned and fixed his gaze on Zhang Hao.

Under Yang Fan’s terrifying stare, Zhang Hao’s heart nearly gave out. All the men Xue Yang had brought were now wounded, cut down by Yang Fan’s ruthless hand. Zhang Hao felt as if death itself were staring at him.

Terrified, he collapsed to his knees, begging for mercy and kowtowing repeatedly. A warm liquid ran down his legs, and the stench of urine filled the air.

“When the police arrive, I trust you all know what to say,” Yang Fan said coolly, sweeping his gaze over the students.

“We understand! We won’t say a word!” Zhang Hao answered at once. The thought of revenge had vanished from his mind.

The other students nodded quickly, fearfully. In their hearts, Yang Fan had become a demon.

“It’s settled. If anyone dares to bother you again, contact me,” Yang Fan instructed Zhou Tong.

Zhou Tong nodded earnestly. After what had happened today, who would dare bully him again?

Yang Fan was not worried about the police either; he had already altered his appearance before coming.

Zhou Tong remained curious about the way Yang Fan could change his face.

With matters resolved, Yang Fan left under the awed gazes of the crowd, while Zhou Tong took his sister back to school.

Yang Fan decided he would visit again later to check on his disciple’s progress, for he knew this pupil would one day be a valuable ally against his enemies.