Chapter 32: Watch My Military Boxing

Chen Fan’s heart lurched in alarm. He spun around, intending to flee, only to find his escape blocked by a wall of people. At the forefront stood a burly thug wielding a long club, flanked by a dozen or so henchmen, all of them looking like gangsters straight out of a Hong Kong crime film.

“Have I stumbled into a den of thieves? How did so many people appear out of nowhere?” Chen Fan glanced back; the marble at the university’s entrance still bore the bold red characters: “Yuan Yu University.”

In the blink of an eye, the people from the van had also disembarked, swelling their numbers to twenty. Each one brandished a blunt weapon, all intent on bullying a defenseless student.

“Damn it, is there no sense of justice left?” Chen Fan cursed inwardly. Seeing those fierce faces, he realized clever words would be useless here.

“Help! There’s a gang beating someone at the school gate!”

Abandoning all thoughts of dignity and pride, Chen Fan shouted at the top of his lungs, desperate to save his own skin.

His cry sent shockwaves through the bustling street. In an instant, lights were snuffed out and the crowd scattered—students sprinted away, others took one look from afar and detoured to the side entrance. The scene fell eerily silent, leaving only the troublemakers behind.

“Well, well. You little bastard, trying to call for help? Clearly you’ve never learned the meaning of the word ‘death.’” The short, stocky leader was the last to climb out of the van, playing up the drama like a boss in a movie. Yet as he swung a leg out, his foot barely reached the ground and he nearly stumbled.

“Hui, we’ve found our guy—same spot as before. Bring your men over,” he spoke into his phone, then shoved it back into his pocket.

“More reinforcements? If they all take a swing, there’ll be nothing left of me but pulp,” Chen Fan thought, a cold sweat breaking out at the prospect. He was still young, hadn’t even had a girlfriend yet, and now he was caught up in this mess.

“Don’t you gangsters have any sense of decency?” With escape impossible, Chen Fan tried to negotiate.

The short thug brandished a steel pipe in front of him. “Of course we do. In fact, you can choose where we start beating you.”

“This is just a mob picking on one man! Dare to take me one-on-one? If I win, you let me go.” Chen Fan had nothing left but bravado. With over twenty thugs and only sixteen moves of military-style boxing to his name, even knocking one out with each move wouldn’t be enough.

Not that he was confident in a fair fight either. If they all piled on at once, he’d be crushed before he could blink.

“You students are all talk. Let me teach you a lesson myself. Boys, stand back—I’ll take the first swing.” The leader cracked his knuckles, hefted his steel pipe, and charged.

“Hey, let’s talk this out—wait—!”

Before Chen Fan could finish, the thug didn’t pause, closing the distance step by step. Chen Fan could only brace himself for the worst.

A dull thud echoed—not the slap of flesh, but the crash of a body hitting the ground. Chen Fan stood unmoved, watching as the short leader sprawled face-down before him.

He only recalled dodging, but had no idea how the guy had taken such a fall.

“Boss, are you okay? Let’s just gang up on him and finish this!” Liu Dong hauled the leader to his feet. The fall had been hard—one of his front teeth was missing.

The leader waved Liu Dong off, wiping blood from his mouth. “No need. I refuse to believe, after all these years, I can’t handle one student. You tripped me, but you’re quick, I’ll give you that. Let’s see what other tricks you have.”

“What? I didn’t trip anybody! Didn’t you fall on your own?” Chen Fan bit back a torrent of curses, but before he could process it, another club swung his way.

This time, the attack came faster. Chen Fan couldn’t dodge and had to catch it with his bare hands. The steel pipe hovered between them, neither giving way.

“Not bad, kid, you’ve got some strength—but still too green.”

“Pah!” Chen Fan abandoned all civility, spitting in his opponent’s face and following up with a sharp knee to the groin.

In a fluid motion, he twisted aside, seized the thug’s wrist in a reverse grip, and slammed a powerful elbow into the man’s chest.

“Enough of your nonsense.”

With a sharp jerk of his elbow, he drove it upward into the thug’s chin.

“Boss, are you alright?” Liu Dong dropped his weapon and rushed over to support the now unconscious leader. Chen Fan was elated—he hadn’t expected his military boxing to be so effective.

He gripped the steel pipe, speaking nonchalantly, “I won. Let me go now.”

“Boss, wake up!” Liu Dong cradled the leader, slapping his face to no avail. “Forget him—everyone, get him! Chop this guy to pieces!”

The words were a death sentence. Chen Fan saw the crowd surge toward him like a tide.

“You said you’d let me go! Hey, don’t hit my head! Not the face! Can’t we negotiate? Just hit my backside, alright…” With so many clubs, he didn’t even know what to protect—he had only two hands and could only shield his eyes.

“To hell with it, I’ll take you all on!”

Chen Fan went all in, covering his eyes with one hand and swinging the steel pipe wildly with the other.

Clang! Clang! The metallic clashes rang out—sometimes sharp, sometimes muffled. Chen Fan dared not open his eyes, certain he’d taken a beating and wondering how many ribs he’d have left.

“A bunch of useless fools—over a dozen of you and you can’t handle one student? Is this how you collect protection fees?”

Hearing the angry rebuke, Chen Fan hesitantly opened a slit between his fingers. All the thugs lay groaning on the ground, yet he himself, though battered, remained standing tall.

A scholar dies on his feet.

He lowered his hand, standing straighter than ever.

“So I actually won?” Chen Fan pressed a foot on one of the fallen thugs’ chests, admiring his handiwork. Moments ago, he’d worried about his ribs; now he was the one doing the beating, like a game of whack-a-mole.

He couldn’t help but marvel, “This White Wolf Ace really is something.”

“One day, these arrogant thugs would remember—the night they were ruled by a freshman at the school gate.”

Getting carried away, Chen Fan imagined himself as a movie hero. According to the script, he should now light a cigarette and deliver a profound lesson, then stroll away in style under the gangsters’ gaze.

No cigarettes on hand? No problem—the short thug had some in his van. Chen Fan kicked aside a lackey, walked over, and fetched a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

It was his first time smoking—he had no intention of actually inhaling, just wanted to play the part. He lit the filter end by mistake, holding the cigarette elegantly between his fingers.

“It's important to be reasonable. I hope this experience will teach you all a lesson. Take your boss to the hospital and let’s call it even.” He pondered his pose for a moment, unsure what would look best.

In the distance, flashing lights signaled the arrival of reinforcements. But Chen Fan had no intention of running—with the White Wolf King backing him, he planned to settle this mess once and for all.