Chapter 15: The Living God of Death

Three vans pulled up in the middle of the street before the pharmacy. In an instant, over fifty men surged out, each wielding a machete.

Witnessing this, the people on the street cried out in alarm and scattered in every direction. Some already reached for their phones to call the police.

Yang Fan sat calmly on his stool, his eyes cold as he regarded the fifty men before him.

“Damn it, that’s the bastard—get him!” The middle-aged man, his head wrapped in gauze and face twisted with hatred, pointed at Yang Fan and cursed.

The mob wasted no words. Brandishing their blades, they rushed forward to hack.

The first to charge swung his machete straight at Yang Fan’s head, vicious and merciless.

Onlookers paled in terror at the sight.

Then Yang Fan moved.

He leapt from his seat, stepped forward in a flash, and struck with the edge of his hand, breaking the attacker’s arm and snatching the machete. With a swift motion, he brought the blade down, severing an arm and sending blood gushing.

The others charged in, wild-eyed, hacking furiously.

Yang Fan recited his secret incantation. A powerful force exploded from within him, his body darting swiftly, dodging attacks with agile grace.

Each swing of his machete left a trail of crimson, and every time, an arm flew.

Spectators peeking from nearby were stunned by the scene.

Yang Fan, a god of slaughter, seemed a ravenous wolf let loose in a sheepfold, unleashing a massacre.

Shrieks echoed, blood pooled across the ground, the air thick with violence.

The street was littered with severed arms, a sight that made one’s scalp crawl.

"My God, he's a butcher—he hacks without even blinking," Boss Zhang muttered, awestruck as Yang Fan’s lethal aura filled the street.

To him, Yang Fan was the incarnation of a god of death, his menace boundless.

He never expected Yang Fan to be so fierce; beset by fifty men, not a single wound.

These were fifty hardened thugs, yet before Yang Fan, they seemed utterly pathetic.

In less than three minutes, Yang Fan had felled them all, leaving them writhing on the ground, clutching their wounds and screaming.

Fear filled their hearts; they never imagined they’d face a monster.

Yang Fan’s gaze turned to the middle-aged man, icy and merciless.

Being stared at by Yang Fan felt like plunging into an ice pit; the man’s body chilled, and terror seized him.

He realized Yang Fan’s gaze was like death’s own stare, suffocating.

"Go back and tell your boss to wash his neck and wait for me," Yang Fan tossed the bloodstained machete aside and addressed the man coldly.

The middle-aged man shrieked and bolted for his life.

Yang Fan ignored the remaining thugs.

At that moment, sirens wailed, and soon a police car pulled up before Yang Fan.

"Don’t move! Hands up!" Three officers leapt from the car, guns drawn, shouting at Yang Fan.

Seeing fifty men sprawled in pools of blood, the officers were stunned.

My God, this man took on fifty by himself—is he even human?

They looked at the severed hands on the ground, their scalps tingling.

"Officers, these men are gangsters—he was just defending himself," Boss Zhang hurried out to explain.

"Enough talk. You’re both coming to the station. We’ll investigate the facts ourselves," one officer barked.

Yang Fan shrugged, showing no intention of resisting.

After all, he acted in self-defense; it was nothing serious.

In the end, Yang Fan and Boss Zhang were taken to the station for questioning.

In the interrogation room, Yang Fan sat cuffed, hands chained, on a chair.

Across from him was a middle-aged officer named Liu Hui.

Liu Hui stared at Yang Fan, secretly astonished. When he first heard Yang Fan had single-handedly taken down fifty men, he couldn’t believe it, but after watching the footage, he had no choice.

This time, his task was to interrogate Yang Fan and send him to prison.

He’d already received orders from the gang leader to deal with Yang Fan.

Having pocketed his reward, Liu Hui was determined to get the job done.

"Speak. Why did you attack?" Liu Hui asked coldly, eyes fixed on Yang Fan.

"They tried to kill me. I defended myself," Yang Fan replied calmly.

Bang! Liu Hui slammed the table, roaring, "Nonsense! According to what I know, you provoked them and then assaulted them!"

Yang Fan narrowed his eyes. In Liu Hui’s gaze he saw mockery.

Clearly, this man intended to turn truth on its head.

"I repeat, it was self-defense," Yang Fan said.

"Hmph. Looks like you won’t confess without some persuasion. Don’t blame me, then," Liu Hui sneered.

With Yang Fan’s hands chained, resistance seemed impossible.

You may have bested fifty men, but now you’re just meat on the chopping block, Liu Hui thought smugly.

He deliberately had the interrogation room’s surveillance shut off, preparing to beat a confession out of Yang Fan.

"So, you’re going to force me to confess?" Yang Fan eyed Liu Hui, mocking.

"Heh, since you refuse to admit it, I’ll beat you until you do," Liu Hui grinned, pleased with himself. "You can’t move your hands now. Let’s see how tough you really are."

"Is that so? If you’re not afraid of dying, try it," Yang Fan’s lips curled into a contemptuous smile.

Even with his hands cuffed, he was confident he could handle Liu Hui.

To Yang Fan, the cuffs were mere scrap metal, utterly useless.

He didn’t bother breaking them; he was sure he could deal with Liu Hui with just his legs.

"Tsk, such arrogance. I’ll show you what happens to the arrogant," Liu Hui clicked his tongue, eyes full of mockery.

He raised his baton and swung at Yang Fan.

Yang Fan rose from the chair and kicked, landing a blow on Liu Hui’s chest that sent him flying.

Liu Hui felt as if a truck had slammed into him, agony flooding his body.

He crashed against the wall, feeling his bones about to shatter.

"Damn it!" Furious, Liu Hui roared and charged.

Yang Fan sneered, cold light flashing in his eyes.

Screams and thuds echoed from the interrogation room.

"Wow, Captain Liu’s really going at it—those screams are brutal," a nearby officer shivered, thinking Liu Hui was being far too harsh.

"The cries are too tragic—if this keeps up, someone’s going to die. Liu needs to stop," another officer worried Liu Hui might beat Yang Fan to death and went to open the door.

As he reached the entrance, the door was struck from inside, nearly battered off its hinges.

Seeing this, the two officers quickly unlocked the room.

What they saw inside left them gaping, mouths shaped like ‘O’s, as if witnessing the impossible.

They rubbed their eyes, doubting what they were seeing.