Just outside the campus, in the quiet alleyway beneath the high walls of a residential complex, was a secluded spot, utterly deserted.

The peaceful silence was shattered by a clamor of voices as a group of eccentrically dressed youths hurried in, shoving two students in school uniforms while hurling crude insults.

This was an upscale housing development with relatively advanced security measures, and the moment the group stepped into the alley, a guard in the surveillance room spotted them on the monitors.

Seeing the potential for excitement, the guard quickly summoned his colleagues: "Da Yang, Cheng Zi! Hurry over, looks like a fight's about to break out here!"

"What is it, Xiao Huang?"

The other two guards crowded around. Cheng Zi, the stout guard, was the fastest, immediately grabbing the mouse to maximize the surveillance feed focused on the alley, then manipulating the pan-tilt-zoom controller to center the camera on the entire scene.

They saw seven bizarrely dressed youths surrounding two students, making exaggerated gestures as if mocking them.

Cheng Zi asked, "What kind of fashion is this? They look like a flock of parrots."

"Parrots, my foot," Da Yang smacked Cheng Zi on the head, lecturing him with mock distress. "That’s called Shamate—it’s visual art! How cool is that—"

Cheng Zi rubbed his head, feeling wronged, not daring to argue back with Da Yang, though he muttered inwardly, Cool? I don't see it. Brain-dead, though, that I see plenty of!

"Holy crap!" Guard Xiao Huang pointed frantically at one figure on the screen. "Look, that kid's got a gun!"

The other two looked, and indeed, the person Xiao Huang indicated—a youth with explosively dyed hair in multiple colors, his heavily made-up face resembling a zombie, clad in an ultra-trendy mishmash of clothing—was gesturing wildly with a dark object toward the two students. Cheng Zi zoomed in: it was a double-barreled shotgun!

The three guards exchanged uneasy glances. Cheng Zi, timid by nature, spoke hesitantly first, "Maybe... maybe we should call the police?"

Xiao Huang wavered, but Da Yang made the decision: "Hold on. Let's watch a bit longer."

...

The ones having their heads pointed at by the gun were Wang Zhuo and Liu Donghao.

Liu Donghao was already weeping uncontrollably, his legs shaking so violently they resembled sieve mesh. If he hadn't stopped at the restroom right after leaving school, he would surely have wet himself by now.

It wasn't entirely his fault for being a coward. In fourteen years of schooling, from kindergarten through high school, he could count the number of fights he'd been in on one hand, and when he did fight, he could only put up a futile "cucumber frame," never even landing a proper punch. A model student like him had never faced such a situation—being cornered in an alley by seven menacing figures, with a gun barrel pressed to his head. The fact he hadn't passed out cold was already a testament to his spirit.

The Shamate contingent was thoroughly satisfied with Liu Donghao’s reaction. Bullying, after all, was about the exquisite feeling of crushing a target underfoot. The worse the target behaved, the more exhilarating and rewarding the experience became for them!

In stark contrast, Wang Zhuo’s composure displeased them greatly. No, it was more accurate to say it infuriated them!

One of the Shamate guys was an elementary school classmate of Liu Donghao’s and knew a bit about his family’s finances. That afternoon, this youth had brought his cronies to the school solely to intimidate Liu Donghao and extort some pocket money. Such things happened often; while the Shamate outwardly looked like beasts, their minds weren't dull—they knew exactly whom they could bully and whom they should avoid. Liu Donghao, wealthy but lacking powerful connections, and being naturally meek and young, was the perfect target.

But an unexpected complication had arisen—Wang Zhuo had interfered. In a moment of heat, one Shamate grabbed a brick from the roadside and, amid the chaos, slammed it against the back of Wang Zhuo's head!

Wang Zhuo collapsed, and the Shamate panicked, fleeing without a second thought.

After hiding nervously for several hours, the Shamate group finally learned the latest news and were utterly speechless: the kid they’d knocked out with a brick had apparently returned to school that afternoon, perfectly fine, to take an exam!

A massive blunder! As the Shamate breathed a sigh of relief, they grew increasingly resentful. Five of them quickly agreed: they needed to teach Wang Zhuo a lesson. So, they called two more friends, making a group of seven, packed their fighting gear, crammed into a Jetta taxi, and sped directly toward the school.

That’s how Wang Zhuo and Liu Donghao were ambushed the moment they stepped outside. The guy with the nose ring—whom Wang Zhuo had soundly beaten up at noon—swaggered forward and pressed his body against Wang Zhuo.

"Kid, be smart and come with us, or you'll be spending the rest of your life in a wheelchair."

Liu Donghao’s cold sweat instantly poured down as he spotted a small black object protruding just above Wang Zhuo’s waist—the muzzle of a gun!

"Move it!" The nose-ringed man tucked the gun away slightly and kicked Wang Zhuo in the leg.

A wise man doesn't fight when the odds are stacked against him. Wang Zhuo genuinely worried this wild man might accidentally fire the weapon and ruin him, so he grudgingly went along with the thugs.

This led to the exact scene Gan Lin witnessed.

The Shamate hustled the two students into this alleyway, familiar territory for them. A few onlookers who tried to follow were shouted down and pushed away before they retreated disgruntledly.

Unlike Liu Donghao’s flood of tears, Wang Zhuo’s expression was composed and steady, a mocking smile even playing on his lips; he clearly showed he held the Shamate in utter contempt.

This very look completely enraged the group of non-mainstream youths. The nose-ringed man cursed the loudest, occasionally jabbing the muzzle of the gun against Wang Zhuo’s chest several times.

"Kill him! See if he’s still so arrogant!"

"Slice his tendons! Scar his face!"

"Break one of his legs!"

The Shamate shouted suggestions one after another, kicking and punching Wang Zhuo intermittently.

"Damn it, I’ll knock that smug look off your face—"

One Shamate, adorned with at least a hundred metal rings jingling on his person, spat into both palms, rubbed his hands together, stepped back more than ten paces, and charged forward with a roar.

"They're fighting!" The three security guards immediately became animated.

Still three meters from Wang Zhuo, "Little Ding Dang" leaped into the air, executing a flamboyant split kick that soared more than two meters high, aimed directly at Wang Zhuo's head!

Such a move was visually impressive, but clearly useless in a real brawl where the opponent would have dodged during the setup. However, the Shamate were apparently no novices; they gave Wang Zhuo no chance to evade, as three of them simultaneously grabbed and pinned his body, ensuring he would take the blow.

Wang Zhuo snorted coldly, suddenly using his arm to forcefully break free from the grip of one attacker. He didn't even try to dodge; he merely swept his hand above his head and clamped down hard on "Little Ding Dang’s" ankle.

Swish! Wang Zhuo swung his arm in a natural arc, sending Little Ding Dang spiraling upward into a dizzying flight!