Chapter 39: The Special Forces King, Gang Wang

When Yang Fan said this, Brother Yang was momentarily taken aback. But he quickly made up his mind and shouted to the men behind him, “Someone, cut off their hands and feet!”

Brother Huan turned deathly pale with terror. “Brother Yang, no, please, I beg you, don’t do this!”

The thought of having his limbs severed filled Brother Huan with unspeakable dread. The dozen or so others all began to plead desperately as well.

Yang Fan offered no response to Brother Yang’s decision, simply turning on his heel and leaving.

Li Qiuya was still in a daze, unable to comprehend who Yang Fan really was, or how he could instill such fear in gangsters like these. Abruptly snapping out of it, she turned to her father. “What are you still doing here?”

Li Qingren, jolted to his senses, glanced at Yang Fan with fear and then ran off without a word. Had it not been for Li Qiuya’s acquaintance with Yang Fan, his fate would certainly have been grim. He counted himself lucky.

As for Brother Huan and the rest, their hands and feet were indeed severed.

Li Qiuya could not bear to watch any more and hurried home. After the events of that day, her curiosity about Yang Fan only deepened.

The next day at noon, Yang Fan packed up and left his house. He was planning to leave Yuancheng for a while, heading to Jiangcheng to treat someone’s illness and also investigate the state of affairs at a few elite high schools. If he could find spiritual stones at one of those schools, his strength would have a solid path forward.

As soon as he left Huiyuan Estate, he was surrounded by five thugs. Facing them, Yang Fan remained calm. “Who sent you? Tell me, and I’ll go easy on you.”

Being ambushed by five people, he immediately knew someone was behind it.

“It was me. Today you’re going to learn what happens to those who cross me.” An arrogant voice sounded from behind Yang Fan.

Turning to look, Yang Fan recognized the speaker—Ma Dongyuan. Clearly, Ma Dongyuan was nursing a grudge and had deliberately waited for Yang Fan to teach him a lesson. After being humiliated in front of Mo Chenxi by Yang Fan, Ma Dongyuan had lost all face. Knowing he was no match for Yang Fan, he had paid others to do the dirty work.

“Haha, kid, don’t blame us. We’re just taking money to do a job,” a red-haired youth laughed, his eyes filled with mockery. As long as they gave Yang Fan a beating, they’d get paid—nothing could have pleased them more.

Yang Fan glanced over Ma Dongyuan’s men, completely unfazed. These insects could be dealt with in an instant.

“Beat him, and don’t stop until I’m satisfied,” Ma Dongyuan ordered the five thugs.

On command, the five charged at Yang Fan with wooden clubs, their faces fierce.

Yang Fan stood his ground, utterly composed.

“In broad daylight, bullying the weak? You scum of society!” Suddenly, a shout rang out, and a figure rushed forward at high speed.

Yang Fan had been about to make his move, but seeing someone else intervening, he held back.

“Damn it, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong—let me deal with you first!” the red-haired youth cursed, swinging his club at the newcomer.

The other four thugs joined in, but the newcomer faced all five without a trace of fear, meeting them with bare fists.

Yang Fan focused on the man—he appeared to be a young man of about twenty-five or six, neither fat nor thin, with a solid build. He showed no fear as he faced the group assault, his face instead lighting up with excitement.

In the blink of an eye, the five thugs were knocked to the ground, groaning in pain.

Yang Fan noticed that the newcomer was indeed skilled, though he sensed no spiritual energy from him. Clearly, he was not a cultivator.

Ma Dongyuan hadn’t expected someone to interfere. Seeing his men laid out, he ran off without a second thought.

The five thugs writhed in pain on the ground.

“Using numbers to bully the weak—I, Wang Gang, despise scum like you,” Wang Gang said, clapping his hands in disgust.

He turned and looked at Yang Fan, then strode over, clapping a hand on Yang Fan’s shoulder with a hearty laugh. “Ha! Kid, I helped you out, so you owe me a favor.”

Yang Fan smiled. “Thank you for your help. I do owe you one.”

He found Wang Gang rather likable.

“Heh, it’s a good thing I spent some time in the national special forces. Dealing with a few punks like this is nothing,” Wang Gang said with a grin.

Yang Fan feigned surprise. “So you used to be in the special forces? No wonder you handled them so easily.”

“Of course! These lowlifes are no match for me,” Wang Gang said proudly. “All right, kid, you’d better leave. If they come back, you’ll be in trouble.”

With that, Wang Gang waved and strode off.

Yang Fan smiled and said nothing more. Checking the time, he hailed a cab to the train station.

After buying his ticket and boarding, Yang Fan saw an elderly man walking toward him. His eyes were drawn to the red jade pendant hanging from the man’s neck. The pendant was unusual, about the size of a thumb, and if one looked at it long enough, it seemed to radiate a subtle spiritual aura.

Of course, only a cultivator like Yang Fan could sense such a thing.

“Spirit jade,” Yang Fan thought in surprise.

He recognized the pendant as a piece of spirit jade. Naturally, he wanted to obtain it, but had no intention of simply taking it by force. If possible, he planned to buy it from the old man. With this spirit jade, he could craft talismans.

After the old man found his seat, he sat quietly, waiting for the train to depart.

Yang Fan kept his gaze on the pendant around the old man’s neck. Seated beside the old man was a young woman—attractive, fashionable, and clearly not lacking in confidence. When Yang Fan glanced over, she assumed he was looking at her, her expression growing frosty.

“All men are the same, can’t keep their eyes off a pretty face,” Ye Ke muttered, full of contempt.

She immediately pegged Yang Fan as just another hopeless loser who couldn’t control himself around attractive women.

Just then, Yang Fan stood and made his way over to the old man.

Seeing him approach, Ye Ke’s disgust deepened. She turned away, not wanting to look at him.

Yang Fan stopped beside the old man and greeted him politely. “Hello, sir. Would you mind if I took a look at your jade pendant?”

Ye Ke glanced back at Yang Fan, her eyes full of ridicule and disdain. “Hmph, what a tired old trick—trying to get my attention? Save it.”

Yang Fan had no idea what Ye Ke was thinking. He simply looked at the old man.

The old man eyed Yang Fan curiously. “Young man, do you know something about this pendant?”

He was well aware that the jade he wore was a treasure.

“I know a little,” Yang Fan replied with a gentle smile. “Would you mind letting me take a look?”

“Sir, don’t let him see it,” Ye Ke suddenly interjected. “For all you know, he could be a con artist trying to steal your pendant.”

Yang Fan shot Ye Ke a look, visibly displeased.