Chapter 338: Utterly Defeated

Yang Xun’s pupils contracted slightly, but his hand movements were astonishingly fast.

He jerked the steering wheel to the left and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. With a high-pitched SCREECH of tires, his car practically brushed past the very edge of the large truck’s front bumper. Metal scraped against metal, sending up a blinding shower of sparks. The right rearview mirror was sheared off, smashing heavily onto the asphalt.

The large truck missed its target. Carried by its massive momentum, it couldn’t turn in time, and its front end slammed brutally into the side door of the black sedan on the right. The collision sent the black sedan sliding sideways. The chassis caved in significantly, sending shattered glass flying everywhere as it dragged a long, deep gouge across the ground before finally coming to a halt.

The entire sequence unfolded in just two or three seconds.

Yang Xun’s car shot forward a dozen meters before he finally steadied the wheel. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw that the black commercial van had already stopped. Chen Hua pushed the door open and stepped out with three other men, their movements so crisp and coordinated it looked as if they had rehearsed this countless times.

All four men wielded steel pipes as they sprinted toward the stalled truck. Chen Hua stomped onto the truck’s side step and smashed his pipe into the driver’s side window.

CRASH. The glass shattered instantly. He reached inside, grabbed the driver by the collar, and dragged him right out of his seat.

The other three men swarmed in with practiced synergy, pinning the driver to the ground. The dull THUD of steel pipes striking flesh mingled with the driver’s brief shrieks, sounding exceptionally harsh on the open street.

“Mr. Yang, we’ve got him!” Chen Hua called out loudly.

Yang Xun pushed open his car door, stepped out, and walked over at a measured pace.

Immobilized on the ground, the driver’s face was already bruised and bleeding, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. Yet, when he looked up at Yang Xun, his eyes held a strange, unsettling calmness.

Yang Xun frowned slightly. His intuition told him something was very wrong.

“Chen Hua, grab him and get in the car. We’re leaving,” Yang Xun ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Chen Hua paused for a fraction of a second but reacted swiftly. He hoisted the driver off the ground by his collar. “Let’s go!”

Before his words even faded, a dense chorus of roaring engines erupted from the street corner. Over a dozen black sedans poured out of the side streets simultaneously, swarming their position like a shiver of sharks that had just caught the scent of blood.

Yang Xun’s expression darkened, and he moved faster than anyone else. Yanking his car door open, he dropped into the driver’s seat and roared at Chen Hua, “Forget the driver! Get in the car!”

Chen Hua tossed the driver to the ground and sprinted toward the van with his three men. They practically tumbled into the vehicle. But before they could pull the doors shut, a black sedan violently rammed into the van’s side.

BOOM!

The thunderous impact forced the commercial van half a meter sideways. The chassis rocked violently, and the windows shattered. The muffled POP of deploying airbags echoed from within, immediately followed by the ear-piercing screech of crumpling metal.

The crash threw Chen Hua sideways across the seats. His forehead slammed hard against the window frame, and blood trickled down his brow.

Yang Xun’s pupils contracted sharply. Without a second thought, he kicked his door open and marched forward with a menacing aura.

The dozen-plus vehicles had completely blockaded the street. Men armed with machetes and iron pipes leaped out of the leading cars—easily forty or fifty of them in total. They moved with practiced speed, clearly well-prepared, and closed in on Yang Xun with obvious intent.

Standing by his car, Yang Xun rolled his wrists and cracked his neck, his gaze sweeping over the approaching mob. He didn’t back down; instead, he took the initiative and advanced.

He started with two measured paces before abruptly accelerating. Moving like a blurring shadow, he stepped onto the hood of the nearest car and vaulted into the air. The moment his foot struck the front of the car, the hood and the engine cover beneath it caved in, emitting a screeching wail of yielding metal. The car’s suspension couldn’t withstand the immense kinetic force. Its front end smashed heavily into the asphalt, shattering the headlights into countless pieces.

Before the men from that closest car could even react, Yang Xun landed right in front of them. He struck a palm directly into the leader’s sternum. Without so much as a cry of pain, the man flew backward, crashing heavily into his companions and bowling over three or four people.

More thugs surged forward.

Yang Xun sidestepped a slashing machete, grabbed the attacker’s wrist backhanded, and twisted. The blade slipped from the thug’s grasp and dropped perfectly into Yang Xun’s free hand. He didn’t use the sharp edge. He merely tapped the spine of the blade against the back of the man’s neck, and the thug crumpled limply to the ground.

Seeing several of their own go down in the blink of an eye, the surrounding thugs saw red. Their attacks grew even more ferocious.

But Yang Xun was leagues faster than them.

He weaved through the crowd, every strike precise and decisive. Wherever he passed, bodies were sent flying in total disarray. When a machete swung at him, he tilted away from the edge and delivered a fluid elbow strike into his attacker’s ribs. The next second, someone tried to ambush him from behind. Without even turning his head, he lashed out with a back kick, planting his foot squarely into the sneaker’s abdomen.

Amidst the chaos, some stumbled. The men behind them couldn’t halt their momentum and tripped, sending several tumbling into a tangled heap. Others accidentally smashed their iron pipes into their own allies’ arms. Screams and wails rose and fell as scenes of friendly fire played out continuously in the confined space.

Before him, the mob was like fallen leaves scattered by a fierce gale, completely and utterly routed.

In less than ten minutes, a massive swathe of thugs lay sprawled haphazardly across the street.

Yang Xun stood in the center of the carnage. He was dusted with dirt and flecked with blood, but not a single thread of his clothes was torn. He bent down and picked up a broken half of a steel pipe dropped by someone, weighing it casually in his hand. Then, he looked up, his gaze sweeping over the few who were still barely on their feet.

It was as if his very look had nailed them to the spot. No one dared to take another step forward.

Yang Xun didn’t continue his assault. Gripping the broken pipe, he walked over to the driver’s side of the lead car and knocked on the window. The glass slowly rolled down a crack, revealing a face full of terror trying desperately to maintain a facade of calm.

“Go back and tell Jiang Yian that I won’t be paying him a personal visit this time. But if there’s a next time, this won’t be resolved with just a few days in bed,” Yang Xun said, his tone perfectly flat.

Pale and terrified, the man swallowed hard and nodded repeatedly.

Yang Xun turned and walked back toward his own car. After two steps, he paused, glancing back at the mangled van, then at Chen Hua, who was stumbling out of the wreckage clutching his bleeding forehead.

“Don’t just stand there. Call an ambulance.”

Chen Hua wiped a smear of blood from his face and nodded.

Shortly after, an ambulance arrived and rushed Chen Hua and his three men to the hospital. Since the four of them had been injured trying to protect him, Yang Xun couldn’t put his mind at ease until he confirmed they were okay, so he followed them there.

“The patients have only suffered superficial wounds, though there are mild concussions,” the doctor said. “Keep them in the hospital for a couple of days for observation. If there are no issues, they can be discharged.”

Yang Xun nodded and arranged VIP wards for them all.