Chapter Twenty: Shamelessness Comes at a Price

The long-suppressed anger within Chen Chong finally made him resolve to vent his fury thoroughly. He was no longer content with merely teaching Zhang Wenhao a lesson with fists and bruises; he wanted to give Zhang Wenhao a warning that traced back to an unmistakable source—himself. This time, he wanted Zhang Wenhao to understand clearly what kind of fate awaited those who crossed him.

Chen Chong was convinced that with Zhang Wenhao's family background, even if he left him half-crippled, it would amount to nothing more than paying some compensation. With wealth and influence, Chen Chong’s family was all but untouchable in Jiangxin District; disciplining someone like Zhang Wenhao was hardly worth mentioning.

After the first evening self-study period, Chen Chong went to Class 21 to find Zhang Wenhao, asking him to meet after school on the sports field, claiming he had something to discuss in private. Chen Chong assumed Zhang Wenhao had no idea he was the mastermind behind the last beating, but Zhang Wenhao knew full well. He had been waiting for Chen Chong to come out into the open; if Chen Chong kept hiding behind others as before, Zhang Wenhao would have no justifiable reason to confront him directly. His deliberate high profile throughout the week had finally forced Chen Chong into the light.

Feigning ignorance, Zhang Wenhao agreed readily, and Chen Chong left, satisfied. Yet in his heart, Zhang Wenhao sneered coldly—the opportunity for true revenge had finally arrived after a week’s wait.

Over that week, Zhang Wenhao had been relentlessly practicing combat techniques. Both his physical fitness and fighting skills had improved considerably since the time he’d dealt with Feilong, to the point that he was now an experienced and formidable fighter with a mind full of the most direct, effective, and devastating moves. Even facing several opponents alone was no challenge.

When evening classes ended, Zhang Wenhao headed straight to the school sports field. It was Friday night and every student was eager to rush home for the weekend, leaving the field deserted and tranquil. After waiting about five minutes, Chen Chong arrived with four others.

Zhang Wenhao felt even more confident. Had Chen Chong brought a large group, things might have been tricky—but four people were nothing to worry about.

“Zhang Wenhao,” Chen Chong called from afar. When he walked up, his four companions moved in perfect synchrony to surround Zhang Wenhao. Yet none made a move, for Chen Chong had instructed them to wait until he had finished speaking.

“What’s the meaning of this, Chen Chong?” Zhang Wenhao frowned, pretending not to understand.

“What’s the meaning?” Chen Chong sneered. “You refuse to repent, still dreaming above your station! Do you really think you can get close to Su Ruoran?”

Zhang Wenhao nodded lightly. “So, it was you who sent Feilong and his gang after me last time?”

“So what if I did?” Chen Chong gritted out. “Since we didn’t beat you into submission then, tonight I’ll show you the price of crossing me!”

With that, he turned to his crew: “Boys, teach him a lesson he won’t forget. Just don’t kill him—whatever happens, I’ll take responsibility!”

The four had been itching for a fight. To them, Zhang Wenhao was a lamb surrounded by wolves, utterly incapable of resistance. At Chen Chong’s signal, all four lunged at Zhang Wenhao at once.

Standing in their midst, Zhang Wenhao waited until the instant they moved before suddenly ducking and slipping swiftly sideways, weaving through the gap between two attackers with remarkable agility. Before they could react, Zhang Wenhao had vanished from their encirclement.

He struck immediately, darting behind two of them. His hand, like a blade, chopped down hard at the back of one’s neck. The blow jolted the carotid artery and nerves—his scalp and neck went numb, his limbs lost control, and he collapsed in a heap. Before the man hit the ground, Zhang Wenhao followed up with a vicious hook to his lower back, dealing a punishing blow to the spine. Even if the man regained consciousness, he’d be unable to stand for days. Had Zhang Wenhao used his full strength, he could have left him permanently crippled.

Every strike in real combat was meant to incapacitate—there was no room for mercy.

“This kid’s got moves!” one of the others exclaimed in shock. But before he finished the sentence, Zhang Wenhao unleashed a lightning-quick punch squarely into his throat. Agonizing pain shot through the man’s neck as if it had shattered; he couldn’t utter a sound. Zhang Wenhao seized his collar, yanked him close, and delivered two more blows to the same spot. Three punches were more than enough to end his ability to fight.

With a single evasive maneuver, Zhang Wenhao had already taken out half his attackers. Even Haozi, known for his ferocity and fighting prowess, felt a chill. But he knew he had to give it his all—otherwise, Zhang Wenhao would win even more easily.

“Finish him!” Haozi bellowed, drawing a switchblade from his belt with a sharp click as the blade snapped out. Another man also pulled a folding knife, both watching Zhang Wenhao intently, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Zhang Wenhao didn’t act rashly, watching every subtle movement. Suddenly, Haozi took a quick step forward, thrusting the blade directly at Zhang Wenhao’s abdomen. In his mind, no matter how skilled his opponent, a knife wound would instantly sap his strength.

As the blade drew ever closer, unchecked, a cruel glint flashed in Haozi’s eyes—he was sure this cocky kid was about to bleed.

But in that crucial instant, everything changed. Just as the blade was about to reach him, Haozi found his wrist caught in an iron grip; he could not drive the knife another inch. Glancing down, he saw Zhang Wenhao’s hand clamped tightly around his wrist.

Haozi tried to pull free, but Zhang Wenhao gripped his wrist with one hand and, with the other, formed a fist and smashed it down with full force onto Haozi’s joint. A sickening crack resounded. Haozi screamed in agony—his wrist was broken.

Now completely incapacitated, Haozi was out of the fight. Zhang Wenhao turned his focus to the last opponent, who, after seeing Haozi’s wrist shattered, hesitated in fear. Zhang Wenhao closed in, delivering a swift side kick that sent the man’s knife flying, then punched his abdomen three times in rapid succession.

With a final thud, the last of the four collapsed. Only then did Chen Chong, who had been watching in stunned terror, finally react—he let out a shrill scream and bolted.

Run? Zhang Wenhao sneered inwardly. After waiting so long for you to show yourself, do you think I’ll let you escape so easily?

He immediately set off in pursuit. After only thirty or forty meters, he caught up, closed the gap with a burst of speed, and leapt forward, kicking Chen Chong hard in the back.

Chen Chong, sprinting desperately, had no idea Zhang Wenhao would catch up so fast. The blow sent him sprawling face-first across the grass, sliding several meters before coming to a stop.

Zhang Wenhao walked over, hauled him to his feet, and frowned. “Chen Chong, we haven’t finished our conversation. Why are you running?”

Having witnessed his four henchmen taken down in mere moments, Chen Chong was terrified. He blurted out, “Zhang Wenhao, I’m warning you! My father is the district chief of Jiangxin! You’d better not touch me, or you’ll regret it!”

“District chief?” Zhang Wenhao’s anger flared. He slapped Chen Chong hard across the face, his voice cold: “So your father’s a district chief—is that your reason for sending Feilong after me? For trying to have me beaten up again tonight? Fine. Then tonight I’ll give you a lesson—because your father’s the district chief!”

The slap was so forceful that Chen Chong’s vision went black; he couldn’t see a thing, his face swelling painfully. Before he could recover, Zhang Wenhao slapped him again on the other cheek.

“Is it your mouth or your hands that are so cheap?” Zhang Wenhao kicked Chen Chong to the ground, squatted down, grabbed him by the collar, and said coldly, “Tonight you’ll remember this—there’s a price to pay for acting like this.”

With a punch, Zhang Wenhao smashed Chen Chong’s nose, the bone cracking audibly as blood streamed from both nostrils.

He tossed Chen Chong aside, stood, tidied his clothes, and said, “If you come after me again, it won’t be as simple as a beating.”