Chapter 9: Taking Them All Down

Seeing the argument between the two, a crowd quickly gathered. Yang Fan glanced over and immediately understood the reason. It turned out the young girl had only wanted to buy a piece of rice cake. She asked for ten yuan’s worth, but the vendor cut her a piece worth two hundred yuan and insisted she buy it. When the girl refused, the vendor grew aggressive, blocking her way and threatening that she couldn’t leave without paying. Frightened by the intimidation, the girl burst into tears.

“Ah, this child is so naive, she doesn’t even know the tricks of street vendors selling rice cake.”
“Damn, I was swindled once too. I wanted ten yuan’s worth, but he cut me three hundred yuan! If I didn’t have backup, I’d have beaten him senseless.”
“These guys always have accomplices watching nearby.”

The onlookers murmured heatedly, their gazes toward the girl filled with sympathy. As for the rice cake seller, everyone despised him; many had fallen victim before and were filled with resentment.

“Hey, hurry up and hand over the money, or you’re not leaving,” barked one of five young men who suddenly surrounded the girl, intimidating her. Their eyes were fierce and malicious—it was obvious they were in league with the vendor. Seeing their menacing faces, the girl turned pale with fear, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Many in the crowd couldn’t bear to watch and protested, “She’s just a child, you’re going too far!”
“Picking on a kid—what kind of men are you?”

Seeing a young girl threatened by six or seven men, everyone agreed it was outrageous. But no one dared intervene, fearing trouble for themselves.

“Damn it, get lost! If you don’t want to see blood, then scram!” shouted one of the young thugs, pointing at the crowd.

At his vicious words, the onlookers quickly backed off, not daring to speak further. These were local bullies—troublemakers no one wanted to provoke.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said get lost,” one of them cursed, noticing Yang Fan standing a little too close. He hurled insults, clearly ready to use force.

Yang Fan fixed him with a cold stare, his eyes glinting with icy intent. To be cursed at to your face—how could he, the so-called God of Slaughter, not teach them a lesson? He hadn’t intended to meddle, but since they provoked him, there would be consequences.

“Kneel down and apologize,” Yang Fan said coldly to the thug.

The group was momentarily stunned, not expecting someone so brazen. Yet why should they be afraid? They took Yang Fan for a fool.

“Heh, you’ve got some nerve. Telling me to kneel—itching for a beating, are you?”

The young man laughed arrogantly, his demeanor insolent.

“Damn, this kid’s an idiot. Telling Brother Liu to kneel—he doesn’t know what’s good for him!”
“Enough talk, let’s take him out.”

Yang Fan stared at the group, his voice steely: “Since you’re courting death, I’ll oblige you.”

“Damn you! I’ll kill you first!” roared the one called Brother Liu, charging at Yang Fan.

Yang Fan’s gaze turned cold; with a single palm strike, he lashed out.

A scream split the air—Brother Liu’s arm was broken by Yang Fan’s blow, bone shattered with only skin holding it together. Clutching his ruined limb, the man howled in agony.

At this sight, everyone drew a sharp breath. They hadn’t expected Yang Fan to be so ruthless.

“What are you waiting for? Kill him!” Brother Liu bellowed, livid with rage, determined not to rest until Yang Fan was dead.

The rest dared not hesitate; they rushed at Yang Fan. Yet Yang Fan remained impassive, standing calmly in place. Seeing he wasn’t running, but taking on five at once, the crowd watched with anticipation.

The five attackers closed in and struck. Yang Fan’s body swayed without moving his feet, evading their blows with ease. At the same time, his hands flashed like lightning, delivering a series of palm strikes.

With each cry of pain, another thug was sent flying, landing more than ten meters away. Each was gravely injured, one arm crippled, left writhing and wailing on the ground.

The rice cake vendor watched in terror, snatching up a kitchen knife and charging at Yang Fan. Seeing the blade, the crowd shrieked, some covering their eyes, unable to look.

“Courting death,” Yang Fan snorted coldly.

He seized the man’s wrist, then kicked him hard, sending him sprawling. In moments, the whole group lay defeated at his feet, each with a ruined arm.

The onlookers felt as if they were watching a dramatic performance—too thrilling for words.

“Damn, that was so satisfying! These scumbags finally ran into someone tougher—they got what they deserved!”
“Trash like them should be dealt with this way. Lucky they’re still alive!”

As the crowd snapped out of their daze, cheers erupted. Bullies who usually ran rampant had finally been taught a lesson, and everyone felt vindicated. For such swindlers, resentment had long simmered—they were delighted to see justice done.

“Garbage,” Yang Fan muttered coldly, sweeping his gaze over the men on the ground before turning to leave. Such riffraff were beneath his notice. Were it not for the law, he would have ended them without a second thought. But in this world, there was law—and murder meant criminal charges. Since arriving here, he knew he must keep a low profile. Attracting the authorities would only bring endless trouble. He feared no trouble, but he needed enough strength first. Without it, discretion was best.

“Excuse me, please wait!” a voice called from behind as Yang Fan walked away.

He stopped and turned, seeing it was the young girl from before.

“What is it?” Yang Fan asked with a frown.

“Thank you for helping me,” Liu Yuehan said gratefully. If Yang Fan hadn’t intervened, she didn’t know what would have happened to her. Thankfully, his actions had spared her.

“No need to thank me—they provoked me, that’s all,” Yang Fan replied indifferently. Without another word, he turned to leave.

“Wait!” Liu Yuehan called as she saw him about to go.

“What else is there?” Yang Fan’s tone grew impatient.

Noticing his impatience, Liu Yuehan hesitated, but mustered her courage. “Regardless, you helped me. So to thank you, I’d like to treat you to a meal.”

“That’s not necessary,” Yang Fan replied coolly.

“No, I insist! Let me buy you dinner,” Liu Yuehan said firmly.

Yang Fan looked her over seriously. “Do you like me?”

Caught off guard, Liu Yuehan was momentarily speechless.

“No, it’s not like that! I just want to thank you with a meal.” Her face flushed red, and she spoke awkwardly.

She was truly exasperated—this guy was too full of himself! Still, she had to admit, Yang Fan was indeed quite handsome.

“In that case, there’s no need. I don’t need you to treat me,” Yang Fan shrugged, turning and walking away.

Watching his retreating figure, Liu Yuehan fumed inwardly.