Chapter 30: Warning of Courting Disaster (3)

The blond-haired thug sprawled on the ground in utter defeat, convulsing as if he were a stray dog. Gone was the glint of amazement in his eyes when he looked at Ci Mo; now, all that remained was a terror as if he had seen a ghost. This man—he was a madman, without a doubt!

Meanwhile, the other gang members, who had been huddled together boasting, were drawn over by the blond-haired thug’s wailing cry. One after another, they hurried to the scene. Seeing their leader curled up on the ground, clutching his hand and twisted in a grotesque grimace, the first henchman rushed over to help him up.

“Boss Huang, are you alright? Was it that pale pretty boy who did this?”

Supporting their boss, the henchman glared at Ci Mo, as if Ci Mo had somehow wronged his entire family. He stomped his feet and shouted, “Listen here, pretty boy! With that frail frame of yours, you dare to hit our boss? If we each threw one punch, you’d be eating dirt!”

As he finished his threats, the blond-haired thug struggled to move his lips.

“Stop, stop talking…”

Damn it, his instincts screamed that this young man was anything but simple! Whether it was that astonishing strength or those uncanny moves, none of them could hope to match him.

If they really tried to go head-to-head, they would be crushed—better to run for their lives while they still could!

But the first henchman was oblivious to his boss’s desperate desire for survival. Sycophantic as ever, he reassured the boss: “Don’t worry, Boss Huang, we’ll beat that kid so badly he won’t know which way is up—you can rest easy.”

With that, he called out to the others, “Everyone, come over here! Let’s see if one punch each won’t be enough to finish off that pretty boy!”

Boss Huang slumped in his henchman’s arms, nearly coughing up blood in frustration, glaring at the first henchman with undisguised hatred.

If you want to die, go die yourself! Don’t drag me down with you!

Seeing this, the first henchman nearly burst into tears himself. Pointing at Boss Huang, he called out, “Look, Boss Huang is so touched he’s about to cry! We have to get revenge for him!”

“Yes, for Boss Huang!” the other lackeys echoed, righteous indignation burning in their voices as they clamored to each land a punch on Ci Mo.

The target of their rage, Ci Mo, merely stood beneath the cold moonlight, silently watching these hooligans prance about like buffoons. His refined eyes were calm as an undisturbed lake.

Clad in a white shirt, he stood there with an almost otherworldly, ascetic air, like an immortal beneath the moon, which only made the gangsters gnash their teeth in annoyance.

Bah! These shallow women nowadays only like these pale, effeminate types. Men like them, real men, full of masculine vigor and chivalry, were overlooked instead. Just wait—once they smashed that pretty face, let’s see who’d still fancy him!

Exchanging glances, the thugs cracked their knuckles and, all at once, lunged at Ci Mo to surround and pummel him.

They came at him from every angle, convinced this would leave no room for escape.

Ci Mo simply looked at them with indifference. In a blur of motion, his figure vanished from where he stood.

The thugs hadn’t even registered what had happened before a crushing blow landed on each of their midsections. Their bodies were flung into the air, landing with heavy thuds and rolling across the ground in disarray.

And as if by some comic fate, they ended up sprawled in a circle around Ci Mo, wailing like a flock of ducks.

The first henchman, witnessing this fantastical scene, was left dazed and speechless.

Damn! One man took down so many in the blink of an eye! That youth… was he even human?