They had just been encircling the car, and then had moved to surround Zhang Yang, closing in on him in a fan formation. These four were simply the ones who had been slightly slower, the stragglers at the rear.

They hadn't anticipated that Zhang Yang’s speed would be so incredible, nor that he would be so formidable, using their own leader as a weapon to instantly knock down the others.

There were at least ten men sprawled on the ground.

"Damn it, this hurts like hell!"

"My back is broken, help, help me up!"

The men who had been swept down by Zhang Yang moments ago were now moaning and groaning as they struggled to rise. The four men still standing, looking stunned, finally found something to do and rushed to assist those near them.

Zhang Yang let go of the bald 'Brother Long' he was holding. Upon being set down, the man immediately fainted, retching violently as he collapsed.

Zhang Yang’s throws had been hard; his subordinates’ heads and bodies had slammed into him, several blows landing squarely on his stomach, churning everything inside him into a tempest.

One subordinate who hadn't been struck watched Zhang Yang nervously, slowly inching forward. He then carefully began dragging the retching Brother Long toward the back. Throughout this process, he was exceedingly cautious, never taking his eyes off Zhang Yang.

Zhang Yang didn't stop him, merely casting a cold gaze over the group. Every man whose gaze met Zhang Yang’s felt a chill run through his heart.

At that moment, Zhang Yang stood like a God of War, imposing an inescapable pressure upon them all.

Everyone had been swept down before they could even truly see what happened; Zhang Yang’s speed was simply too great. He had taken down so many people in less than half a minute; most of them barely knew how they ended up on the ground.

The dozen or so men were, fundamentally, not seriously injured.

Zhang Yang hadn't used a weapon, merely swinging Brother Long’s body around like a club a couple of times. After all, it was just a human body; it could knock people unconscious upon impact, but it wouldn't cause major harm—unlike the thugs back in Mi Xue’s hometown, where several suffered broken bones.

Zhang Yang suddenly took a step forward. The group of more than ten men instinctively retreated a step backward, stumbling, causing several more to fall down.

In that brief moment, their positions seemed to have inverted; they came to discipline someone, yet they were the ones being disciplined.

Facing Zhang Yang, so many of them had completely lost the nerve to fight back.

It was too fast. Everything had happened too quickly. They had rushed him together, and more than half of them were already down. Many were sore from the impacts, finding it hard just to stand, let alone engage in a fight.

As for the two who had been holding wooden clubs, they couldn't even recall where their weapons had flown off to.

Wang Ying and the other two girls were utterly dumbfounded. They had been terrified moments ago as the men rushed forward, their screams erupting as the group advanced.

Their screams hadn't even died down before the fight was over—ended in a way they could never have imagined.

So many men had been utterly defeated by just Zhang Yang, and he had dealt with them so rapidly.

Now, they looked at Zhang Yang as if he were some kind of monster.

Besides them, one other person was equally stunned: Zhou Yichen, hiding in the distant shadows.

He had seen it clearest. Zhang Yang grabbed Brother Long as if he were a child, hoisting him up effortlessly. With a casual sweep, Brother Long’s body knocked over four or five men; with another swing, five or six more followed, leaving a dozen men lying on the ground.

In just those two movements—two simple swings—Brother Long’s body had served as a long staff, allowing Zhang Yang to sweep through and fell nearly ten men.

Zhang Yang suddenly advanced two more steps. Several men, scrambling to rise and flee backward, were completely ignored by Zhang Yang, who instead kicked the bald man.

"Tell me, who sent you here!"

Zhang Yang asked softly. He had already identified the bald man as the leader, and since he was the first to make a move, Zhang Yang had seized him first.

Brother Long, lying on the ground, didn't react. Zhang Yang spoke again, "Don't think about playing dead. I know you’re awake. If you don't speak now, I’ll let you taste the sensation of real death!"

Zhang Yang’s tone was level, yet it carried a palpable, cold killing intent. Brother Long, hearing this, jerked and sat up, his face slightly swollen, blood trickling from his nose.

This was the aftereffect of the earlier impacts; the others were hit once, but he had been struck more than ten times, making him the most miserable.

"I, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you! It was Brother Zhou, no—it was Zhou Yichen who hired us!"

Brother Long spoke in a rush, forgetting all about loyalty and protecting Zhou Yichen’s secret.

In his heart, he actually resented Zhou Yichen a little. He never expected Zhang Yang to be this terrifying. When he was grabbed, he had nearly passed out from the pain, and while being held aloft by Zhang Yang, he felt completely powerless, unable to control any part of his body.

At that moment, he truly felt the sensation of dying.

Afterward, being slammed down, every bone in his body ached as if dislocated, an unbearable misery.

This was the simple student Zhou Yichen had asked them to discipline. If Zhou Yichen hadn't sent them, they wouldn't be in this situation, and he wouldn't be suffering this much.

Brother Long finally understood: the man before him was definitely a master, an incredibly powerful one. At least, the dozen of them were no match for him.

"It was him!"

A cold glint flashed in Zhang Yang’s eyes. Fan Versace had warned him that Zhou Yichen intended harm.

Zhang Yang had figured that even if there was malice, it would wait until school started, as it was currently vacation. He hadn't expected Zhou Yichen to strike against him so immediately upon arrival.

This showed that this person truly hated him.

Zhou Yichen, lurking in the darkness, suddenly shivered violently and began subtly retreating. He thought of nothing now except escaping; thoughts of revenge against Zhang Yang had vanished. Seeing how formidable Zhang Yang was today had utterly crushed his ambition.

He only regretted ever provoking Zhang Yang.

"Yes, yes, right, he followed us too! He’s over there!"

Brother Long nodded emphatically. He had completely lost any air of a gang boss. He resented Zhou Yichen and certainly wouldn't keep his secret for him. He pointed in the direction Zhou Yichen had fled. Zhou Yichen, who was quietly backing away, felt the hairs on his body stand on end at Brother Long's words.

He stopped sneaking backward, stood up abruptly, and bolted, his speed rivaling that of a professional athlete.

In no time, he was far away, disappearing into a narrow alley where no one could see him.

"He, he ran!"

Brother Long looked up at Zhang Yang in sheer panic. The mastermind had fled; these thugs who did the actual fighting were likely doomed. If someone was going to deal with him, he certainly wouldn't make it easy for them.

"I know!"

Zhang Yang replied faintly, looking down at him.

Brother Long immediately lowered his head, daring not to speak another word. In his life, he had never encountered anyone as formidable as Zhang Yang; he was practically a demon.

If he knew the miserable state of the thugs in Lieshan County—where three ended up disabled and the rest severely injured, some still hospitalized—he would only feel lucky now. Compared to those men, these ones were truly fortunate.

The key factor here was that they hadn't touched Young Master Su’s car. Seeing the vehicle unharmed had already lessened Zhang Yang's anger, and since they hadn't brought major weapons, Zhang Yang had held back somewhat in his attack.

"How much did he pay you?"

Zhang Yang suddenly asked. Fan Versace had mentioned that Zhou Yichen was spending money to hire people, and these were likely them.

At this point, Zhang Yang wasn't truly angry. Unknown enemies were dangerous; knowing that Zhou Yichen had only hired these lowlifes brought him a sense of relief.

At least this immediate danger was neutralized.

"Two, twenty thousand—oh wait, it was forty thousand!"

Brother Long carefully raised his head, causing Zhang Yang’s brow to furrow slightly, and panic flashed across the thug’s face again.

"Wipe your mouth before you speak!"

Zhang Yang said slowly. He frowned because there were still remnants of vomit around Brother Long’s mouth, which disgusted him.

Brother Long hastily used his clothing to wipe his mouth, which made Zhang Yang feel nauseous again. Mi Xue turned her head away.

"Forty thousand? Isn't that a lot? What did they buy?" Zhang Yang asked again.

Brother Long kept his head down, his body trembling slightly. He was a hoodlum, true, but he was terrified of someone far crueler and stronger than himself.

"Hand, and arm!"

Brother Long managed to force the words out, his body shaking even more violently. After saying it, he quickly added, "Just broken, nothing more!"

He was worried Zhang Yang would retaliate in kind. That possibility was high; if someone wanted to chop off his arm, he would certainly chop off someone else’s first. That’s why he added the clarification—just broken bones; an arm or leg could heal, but true disability would ruin a life.

"My hand and arm are only worth this much?"

Zhang Yang suddenly smiled. He was a millionaire now; his limbs should be worth more than that. He was surprised forty thousand could buy them off.

Brother Long didn’t know what to say, remaining hunched over, too afraid to agree or disagree.

"Too cheap. An arm should be at least two hundred thousand, and a leg, at least three hundred thousand. That kid is rich anyway, you understand?"

Zhang Yang said quietly, a smile playing on his lips.

Mi Xue looked at him in surprise, then quickly understood and began to laugh as well.

Brother Long was first confused, then his eyes widened as he grasped Zhang Yang’s meaning. Zhang Yang was clearly engineering revenge on Zhou Yichen, but without dirtying his own hands, letting these thugs do the dirty work.

Fifty thousand—Zhou Yichen’s uncle was rich, but he wasn't. Squeezing fifty thousand out of him would leave Zhou Yichen skinned, if not dead. Moreover, since the thugs initiated the action, it had nothing to do with Zhang Yang; even if trouble arose later, it wouldn't lead back to him.

Zhang Yang hadn't actually ordered Brother Long to extort money; he was merely stating the perceived value of his own limbs. If he claimed he was worth ten million, no one could argue.

"Understood, understood, I get it!"

If even Mi Xue understood, Brother Long certainly did. He nodded rapidly, a hint of relief on his face.

"Scram!"

Zhang Yang frowned and snapped the command. Brother Long immediately scrambled, half-crawling, toward his subordinates. Helped up by them, the dozen or so men retreated the way they came.

This is the second update. I started writing as soon as I got home; it’s tiring work. I still need 14 more votes to reach 50 votes. If any readers have monthly passes, could you please give Xiao Yu that support of 14 votes?