With a lightning-fast raise of his hand, Ning Fan sent the unfortunate fellow closest to him flying with a punch, and casually snatched a solid wooden stick from his hand. At the corner of Ning Fan's mouth, a cruel smile emerged.
"Come on, let me see what you've got!" Ning Fan bellowed, and he began swinging the stick in his hand.
With a bang, the guy who had just charged forward to attack Ning Fan was struck directly on the head with the stick.
When his head was busted open and bleeding, Ning Fan kicked him away.
Immediately after, Ning Fan rushed into the crowd.
Surrounded by nothing but clubs, in such a pressing situation, an average person would have been beaten to death long ago.
But who was Ning Fan?
He was like a slippery eel, constantly moving through the crowd, swinging the stick in his hand, smashing it down on the gangsters.
The sound of thumping was incessant, so clear even amidst the noise of cursing and the clashing of sticks.
Of course, there were also pig-like screams of agony.
Ning Fan fought in the crowd for a while, and they couldn't inflict even a slight injury on him, let alone touch the hem of his garment. This was a fight on two completely different levels.
As for Ning Fan, anyone hit by his stick would either have broken bones or a gaping, bloody head wound, and at the very least they were left powerless to fight.
There were only about thirty people in total; while they seemed numerous, they couldn't take much of a beating.
In just three short minutes, Ning Fan had sent the last man standing in front of him flying away with a swing of his stick.
Ning Fan stood in place, with a bunch of gangsters lying around him. The scene was quite eerie.
Mo Chenggong had been watching everything, and it wasn't until he saw Ning Fan walking towards him through the struggling mob on the ground that he thought of running away, but it was already too late.
Ning Fan burst into laughter and shook the stick in his hands, shouting, "It seems I overestimated the trash you hired, five minutes? I didn't expect they could only last three minutes at most."
Mo Chenggong's body trembled violently, and his heart started to spasm.
What kind of combat power was this?
A single person taking on more than thirty tough gangsters unscathed, and in a mere three minutes, he had knocked them all to the ground!
He suddenly realized, no wonder he was known as Brother Ninth. When his father had told him about Ning Fan, he thought his father had exaggerated because of the great favor from Brother Ninth. Looking at it now, it was all true.
Brother Ninth was formidable back then, and he was still as domineering today!
This was the real Brother Ninth!
He felt somewhat ridiculous as he remembered his father saying there were many people who wanted to kill Brother Ninth back in the day, but the end result was invariably that all of them were killed by Brother Ninth.
Amongst these people, there was no shortage of impressive big shots.
But that was before they knew Brother Ninth. By the time they were ready to kill Brother Ninth, their lives no longer belonged to them.
As Ning Fan walked, the stick in his hand kept tapping resoundingly in the other hand.
One after another, as if striking directly on Mo Chenggong's heart, making Mo Chenggong's breathing difficult.
He hurriedly dodged and moved onto the driver's seat, ready to flee.
But as he reached out to wipe his face, his expression darkened and he cursed loudly, "Fucking hell, it's just a lousy van, and they even took the keys out. Does someone really want to steal this piece of junk that badly?"
Without hesitation, he kicked open the car door and started to run in the opposite direction from Ning Fan.
"Think you can get away?" Ning Fan's voice sounded as if it were right beside his ear. The next second, he felt someone grab the back of his collar.
Then, his body was lifted into the air before Ning Fan slammed him hard onto the ground.
His back hit the ground with a loud smack, nearly knocking Mo Chenggong unconscious.
The pain made Mo Chenggong's face contort as he felt all his internal organs violently churning.
"I said I would break one of your legs within five minutes. I keep my word. Remember, don't bother me again. I don't like the feeling of being watched," Ning Fan said as he lifted the rod in his hand.
His target was naturally one of Mo Chenggong's legs.
"No, please, don't hit me. I realize my mistake, Ning Fan, no, no, no, Patriarch, Patriarch, please have mercy, I won't dare again," Mo Chenggong was terrified.
The Ning Fan standing before him had long shed his playful and smiling demeanor and it was replaced with a solemn killing intent.
This oppressive aura was something he'd only felt from his own father when he was angry, and even then, compared to Ning Fan's aura, his father's seemed like heaven and earth in difference.
Under Ning Fan's powerful aura, he felt as if he were in the midst of a frozen wasteland, with every drop of blood in his body and even his soul seemingly about to freeze solid.
"Admitting wrong has no use to me. Your parents have spoiled you rotten. If you're not taught properly, you'll end up making big mistakes in the future. Today, I'll take your parents' place and teach you a lesson. Remember, don't look for trouble with me again,
In this world where it's survival of the fittest, you are nothing but trash. Since you're trash, just behave and stay in your place as trash."
Ning Fan shook his head, his expression growing colder by the second.
The next second, his arm suddenly dropped, and with a snap, the rod brutally struck Mo Chenggong's leg.
The leg was instantly broken, bending at an unnatural angle.
Mo Chenggong screamed in agony, like a pig being slaughtered.
He had rarely even been in a fight throughout his childhood, and now with a leg suddenly broken, the intense pain and fear were beyond imagination.
But he didn't dare say anything. Looking at Ning Fan in front of him, his body shook violently with fear so palpable Ning Fan knew his message had hit home.
What dissatisfied Ning Fan, however, was that in the depths of Mo Chenggong's eyes, in addition to fear, there was a deep-seated intent to kill!
It was an intense hatred born from extreme fear, a fear so deep-rooted it would torment him in his sleep.
To quell this fear, the only solution was to eliminate the source of the fear, which was Ning Fan!
Only by killing Ning Fan could he be free of worries.
But in his current state, Mo Chenggong instinctively knew that it was nearly impossible for him to kill Ning Fan, so he buried that murderous intent deep in his heart!
With a click, Ning Fan tossed aside the rod and looked at Mo Chenggong, who was about to pass out, without any further concern.