Chapter 38: Dumbfounded

“Dad, don’t make a scene. I’ll give you the money—just take your people and leave now.” Li Qiuya hurried to Yang Fan’s side, pulling him back, and spoke urgently to Li Qingren.

With things having escalated to this point, Li Qiuya saw no other way but to settle it with money. If Yang Fan were to be beaten up, she would never forgive herself—it was, after all, all because of her that this had happened.

“Heh, think you can solve this with money now? It’s too late.” Huan, a mocking light in his eyes, gazed lecherously at Li Qiuya. “If you want to settle this, spend the night with me.”

The sight of a beautiful celebrity set Huan’s heart ablaze. The thought of spending a night of pleasure with such a woman made him giddy with excitement.

“Shameless!” Li Qiuya spat out, furious.

How could she possibly agree to such a vile demand? One look at these men, and it was clear they were up to no good.

“Haha, your father owes us a hundred thousand. If you don’t want him hurt, you’d better be obedient,” Huan replied, his pride swelling.

“I’ll give you two hundred thousand,” Li Qiuya offered.

Two hundred thousand was a sum she could easily afford, barely a pinch.

“I said, this isn’t about money anymore. I’ve got my eye on you. If you cooperate, I won’t bother your dad again.” Huan’s gaze lingered lasciviously on her figure.

Disgust twisted Li Qiuya’s face at his brazen lechery.

“I’ll give you all one chance: kneel down, kowtow, and apologize, and I’ll let you go. If not, you’ll all leave here on stretchers,” Yang Fan said coldly, eyes fixed on Huan.

“Are you out of your mind, Yang Fan?” Li Qiuya exclaimed, dragging at his arm in agitation.

There were fifteen men here—how could Yang Fan take them all on by himself? In her heart, she thought he must be insane.

“Damn, you’re arrogant! I’ll cripple you first!” Huan snarled, tossing his cigarette aside and shouting to his men, “Beat him! Break his arms and legs!”

With that, he lunged at Yang Fan, fist swinging viciously.

Li Qiuya’s face went pale with fright as Yang Fan pulled her behind him protectively.

Yang Fan stepped forward and, moving like lightning, slapped Huan’s fist with his palm. A sickening crack resounded as Huan’s fist bent at an unnatural angle, the bone instantly snapping.

A shriek tore from Huan’s lips as he was sent flying by the force, landing on the ground, wailing in agony.

The others, seeing their leader felled in an instant, rushed at Yang Fan, launching a wild assault.

“Step back,” Yang Fan said, pushing Li Qiuya further behind him before meeting the onslaught head-on.

With a silent incantation, spiritual energy surged through him. Like a tiger among sheep, he attacked the group.

He dodged their blows with agile movements, counterattacking with precision. Every strike brought a scream, every move sent another man sprawling.

In less than a minute, all fifteen were writhing on the ground, each clutching a broken arm, faces twisted in pain.

The bystanders were stunned, staring at Yang Fan in disbelief.

Even the security guards in the booth gaped, shocked to the core.

A lone man had taken down more than a dozen young thugs without a scratch.

Li Qiuya stood gaping at Yang Fan, astonished. She had never imagined he could be so formidable—dispatching so many in the blink of an eye.

As for Li Qingren, he was paralyzed with terror, his legs trembling, eyes filled with dread. He had thought that with Huan’s help, Yang Fan would be taught a harsh lesson. He never expected things to turn out like this.

“You’ve got guts, kid. You’ll regret crossing me,” Huan snarled, glaring at Yang Fan through a mask of pain. “No one in this area has ever dared lay a hand on me. You’re the first.”

As a local mob boss, Huan was a major player in the district, commanding several hundred men. Now that Yang Fan had crippled his arm, hatred burned in his heart—he was determined to have revenge, or his reputation would be ruined.

“If you have the means, bring it on. I’ll be waiting right here,” Yang Fan replied coolly, his gaze full of disdain.

In his eyes, these mortals were as insignificant as ants—he could crush them with a wave of his hand.

“Fine, just you wait!” Enraged by Yang Fan’s arrogance, Huan whipped out his phone to call for reinforcements.

The call connected quickly.

“Brother Yang, it’s Huanzi. Someone attacked me—bring the crew and help me get revenge!” Huan said into the phone.

“Damn it, someone dares mess with my men? They must be tired of living. Give me the address—I’ll be there with my guys right away,” came the harsh reply from the other end.

Huan rattled off the address, then hung up.

“Boy, since you’re so intent on dying, stay right there and wait for me,” Huan threatened Yang Fan.

He would not let the matter rest until he saw Yang Fan dead.

“Yang Fan, you should go now. Once their reinforcements arrive, you won’t be able to escape,” Li Qiuya urged anxiously.

“It’s nothing,” Yang Fan replied calmly.

“I know you can fight, but you can’t possibly handle hundreds of them!” Li Qiuya said, exasperated.

Yang Fan said nothing more, simply standing there with serene composure.

The security guards hurried out from their booth, keeping their distance for fear of being caught up in trouble.

After five minutes, ten white vans screeched to a halt at the entrance, disgorging more than a hundred men armed with machetes.

At the head strode a young man with dyed yellow hair, exuding an air of arrogant confidence.

At the sight of this crowd, Li Qiuya turned deathly pale.

“Who’s the fool who dared to touch my men?” the blond youth demanded, swaggering forward with a machete slung over his shoulder.

Huan hurried over, pointing at Yang Fan. “Brother Yang, it’s him. He’s tough—our fifteen brothers couldn’t take him.”

“Useless! Fifteen of you can’t beat one guy?” Brother Yang cursed Huan roundly.

Then he turned to look at Yang Fan.

The moment he laid eyes on Yang Fan, Brother Yang’s machete slipped from his grasp. His legs turned to jelly, sweat pouring down his face.

The crowd stared in confusion at Brother Yang’s sudden look of terror.

What was going on?

“Brother Yang, what’s wrong?” Huan asked, bewildered.

“You idiot!” Brother Yang spun around and kicked Huan to the ground.

The abrupt turn stunned everyone present. Huan, especially, was dazed—he had no idea how he had offended Brother Yang.

With a fawning smile, Brother Yang approached Yang Fan, speaking cautiously. “Brother Yang, I never expected to meet you here.”

Yang Fan frowned, puzzled. “Do you know me?”

He had no recollection of this so-called Brother Yang.

“Heh, I once had the honor of seeing you at the Emperor Nightclub,” Brother Yang replied obsequiously.

He would never forget the carnage that night—Yang Fan had single-handedly cowed the entire club. Even the Black Tiger gang dared not provoke him; how could Brother Yang hope to?

At these words, Yang Fan understood.

His gaze fixed on Brother Yang, he asked, “What do you intend to do about these people?”