Bully 09

Fang Zhiyi laughed heartily, "Would I gain anything from lying to you?" As he spoke, he suddenly grabbed the hand of the burly man beside him, twisted it, and shoved him down. The man screamed and dropped to his knees.

Everyone else in the hall was stunned, the only sound being the agonized cries of the burly man.

Fang Zhiyi patted the man’s cheek. "Wearing a suit and tie makes you a gangster? The world doesn’t need gangsters anymore."

Turning to Murong Xun, he said, "What you’re after will never come to pass. You’ll end up exiled overseas. But I’m pleased you showed up on time today. Your biggest obstacle is right here—the same person who will eventually try to kill you. Take care."

With that, he turned to leave. Someone reached out to stop him, only for another man to collapse silently the next second. Murong Xun’s expression shifted as he watched Fang Zhiyi—this man didn’t need his help at all.

The middle-aged man grew frantic. "Get him!" He couldn’t understand what his eldest son was doing, but if Fang Zhiyi walked out of here unscathed, his reputation would be ruined.

"Who dares?" Murong Xun’s gaze hardened. More men rushed in through the door, dressed casually, tattoos on full display.

Fang Zhiyi nodded and strode out without a care.

"Are you rebelling against me? You—"

"Dad, ever since Mom died, you changed. You’ve grown old, afraid I’ll take your place, afraid I won’t leave your precious youngest son a way out. So I’ll just take it myself."

Fang Zhiyi suddenly turned back. "Oh, one more thing—getting out of the game is the only way forward."

Murong Xun raised a fist to show he’d heard.

"Your father wasted an hour and ten minutes of my time. I’ll give you a ten-minute discount. Don’t forget to pay up."

Fang Zhiyi left, and whatever happened next had nothing to do with him.

Like the rule he’d set—one reading per person, and only if fate allowed. In truth, there was no divine foresight—just an intimate knowledge of how events would unfold. As for the one-reading limit? Once things changed, even he couldn’t predict the outcome. But this rule only deepened his mystique.

Fang Yuntian couldn’t fathom why his boss had fired him the moment he returned from his trip.

Instinct told him it had something to do with that damn father of his, but he couldn’t ask. All he could do was curse under his breath.

Fang Yunhe had been feeling restless lately. Murong Ke had stopped coming to school—rumor had it his family had run into trouble and sent him abroad. For Fang Yunhe, who’d grown accustomed to beating Murong Ke up daily, the sudden absence left him at loose ends.

But soon, he set his sights on Murong Ke’s former lackeys.

Now, just a glance from him was enough to make anyone break out in a cold sweat. They’d all witnessed firsthand how unhinged this kid was. If even Murong Ke, with all his family’s influence, had been beaten into transferring schools, what chance did they have?

Better to surrender willingly.

But they’d misjudged Fang Yunhe. He didn’t enjoy bullying—he just had too much energy. When he wasn’t studying, he was practicing the new moves he’d learned in combat class. So these guys became his unwilling sparring partners, forced to smile through the beatings.

Bai An’an had tried approaching Fang Yunhe a few times, but with Xiao Hei keeping watch, Fang Yunhe dodged her every time. This only fueled her interest. Since returning to the Bai family, she’d been treated like a princess, surrounded by admirers wherever she went. Yet this Fang Yunhe actually disliked her!

After digging into his background and learning how he’d gone from an overlooked weakling to the infamous "madman," her eyes gleamed with determination. She had to claim this rising star.

But no matter what tricks she tried, Fang Yunhe remained indifferent. Between fighting and studying, he had no time for girls.

On the eve of exams, Wang Zihan returned to school after completing his treatment. His confidence restored, he was furious at how he’d let an adult intimidate him. He’d already planned his grand return—marching up to Fang Yunhe’s desk, sitting on it, and slapping his head to announce his comeback.

Not seeing his boss Murong Ke around didn’t faze him—skipping class was nothing new for Murong Ke.

Swaggering over to where Fang Yunhe was studying, Wang Zihan noticed everyone staring at him, including his old friends. Smug, he shoved Fang Yunhe’s books aside and plopped onto the desk.

"Bet you didn’t expect—"

Before he could finish, someone yanked him down. Wang Zihan’s mind blanked—what just happened?

"Brother He, don’t let him bother you. We’ll handle this guy," one lackey said with an ingratiating smile.

"Yeah, I’ve had enough of him. Back when he was Murong Ke’s lackey, he bossed us around nonstop. Leave him to us."

They dragged Wang Zihan into the bathroom.

"Have you all lost your minds?! Don’t you recognize me?" Wang Zihan roared as soon as he regained his footing.

"Oh, we recognize you. Wang Zihan, right? Leg all healed?" Someone peeked out the door, gave a thumbs-up, and the group visibly relaxed. Another pointed a warning finger. "Listen up—this school isn’t what it used to be. Murong Ke’s gone. If you behave, fine. But if you keep acting tough, no one’s saving you."

Wang Zihan’s brain short-circuited.

"What the hell? You all on drugs? That loser’s dad put me in the hospital! I’m just getting even!" The moment the words left his mouth, someone clamped a hand over it.

"Your mouth’s disgusting. If you want to die, fine, but don’t drag us down with you!"

Wang Zihan noticed each of them bore minor injuries. He struggled, muffled protests escaping his sealed lips.

Then Fang Yunhe walked in, glanced at them, and headed straight for the urinal.

The lackeys stiffened. "Brother He, we’re just teaching him a lesson."

Fang Yunhe ignored them.

Gritting his teeth, the leader signaled the others. "Hit him!"

Wang Zihan couldn’t comprehend why his former allies were turning on him—and not holding back.

Fang Yunhe never even looked his way, finishing his business and leaving. But the others seemed to enjoy the beating, only stopping when Wang Zihan was bruised all over.

"You bastards... just wait—"

Another smack cut him off.

"Watch your mouth. I’ve hated you for ages. Acting like some high-and-mighty eunuch just because you followed Murong Ke. Disgusting."

"If you’re still this cocky tomorrow, we’ll beat you again. Let’s go!" They’d made up their minds—once they’d crossed the line, there was no point pretending anymore.

Wang Zihan wanted to cry. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go at all.