Chapter 179 Clash from the Pas (1/2)

t

It was the second day of my break when Lin Feng, Chongxi and I went to one of our most-frequented town squares in Wu Zhong. We were watching a bunch of kids having fun with their roller skates. We usually hang out or eat together, all three of us. I would have gone to the internet cafe if I was alone; but with Lin Feng's lack of interest in computer games and Chongxi's lamentable ineptitude to master any computer game, loitering around seemed the only thing we could do together.

We were just idling about when a voice called from our backs, ”Are you Murong Shiyan?” I whirled and saw a burly man, sullen and visibly irate, standing behind ME. We eyed the stranger apprehensively and I said, ”I am Murong Shiyan.” The man gave a curt nod and said, ”Please come with me then.” I got up and the man was already walking out of the square, heading towards a small alleyway in the corner. Then I saw from a distance that two rows of men were waiting for us, numbering to at least ten.

The three of us traded quick looks but I tore away first and followed the stranger. Lin Feng and Chongxi could see that trouble might be coming; they looked at each other and chased up, forming up to me and the former whispered, ”Shiyan, have you offended anyone?” ”Impossible. Who would dare to anger us, least of all in Wu Zhong?” Chongxi quipped from my other side. I chuckled and waved them off; there was no way we would cowardly back away from a brawl.

And so indeed, we stepped into the gloom of the dark alley and saw the thugs all wielding weapons, watching us with unfriendly and nasty glares. The stranger, who was obviously the leader of the band, turned to face me. He thrust a finger at my shoulder and said, ”You have guts, boy!” I giggled and answered, ”I DO have guts, all right. But what are you trying to accuse me of?”

When the stranger first showed, I had instantly realized what this was all about: Huang Li. It could only be her, for she was the only one I had offended, if one were to insist that way, recently. Naturally, she had employed these thugs to teach me a lesson.

And indeed, the man laid a beefy hand on my shoulder and rubbed his neck. ”I'm sure you know what you did!” He growled, speaking as if he knew the truth. I giggled. ”Oh? But I dare say I don't know what you're talking about!” A wicked glee curled at his lips. ”Very well! You'll need some help remembering, I think!” He raised a thickset arm the size of an elephant's trunk, ready to give me a slap to my face but I gave him no time and instead delivered a powerful kick into his beer belly and he lurched backward, clutching his stomach as he groaned with pain.

Without a word, all hell broke loose. The rest of the thug's underlings sprang into action, bearing down on us with their weapons like birds of prey.

But it was a street brawl in a darkened alley that merely lasted barely five minutes. Despite the advantage of number, our attackers clearly misunderstood their position, mistaking themselves as the predators when they were actually preys. We sat on a heap of badly bruised ruffians, all sixteen of them piled up like a large mound, some whimpering in agony while some already fainted to make even a noise. We sat on them and treated ourselves to a cigarette and I asked the leader of the band at the top of the heap whose back I was sitting on. ”I seem to remember that you had said something about helping me to remember...” The man was still trying to sound tough. ”Do you even know who you offended?!” ”Of course not,” I replied casually. In unison, all three of us bent down to look at the terribly-swollen face of the ringleader, ”How about refreshing my memory?”

The ringleader of the bandits was about to say something defiant, when one of his underlings from below screamed, ”Please get them to come down, Boss! The guys below are not gonna make it any longer!” The ringleader looked at us and hissed, ”You'll never get away with this! Not especially if one of us dies! Get off!” I smacked at his forehead. ”Then just die! Like I care! You'd think I'd worry if one of you worthless scums dies? I'd hardly do!” I raised a leg and propped it on his back lackadaisically and ignored the painful cries from below that ensued.

But it was true: some of those below might have been squashed or suffocated to death if they were not stout, able-bodied men themselves! Even so, I was hardly worried about any deaths; I could have easily had any wandering spirits help me deal with any corpses by possessing the body and transporting it somewhere else where no one would find it. But I was still young and simple then, unlike the present me who no longer had any scruples in exacting the judgment of death upon those who deserved it like what I did in Inner Mongolia.