Zheng Xiongfeng's disciples were utterly terrified when they saw the outcome. None of them had expected their master—a seasoned martial artist—to be defeated so thoroughly by an eighteen-year-old youth.
If even their master stood no chance, what hope did they have? Their legs gave way, and they dropped to their knees, kowtowing frantically. "Big Bro—no, no, *Grandpa*—we were wrong! Please, spare us!"
Zhou Yang ignored them, his cold gaze fixed on the horrified Zheng Xiongfeng. "I'm the 'trash' you looked down on—Zhou Yang. Starting tomorrow, shut down your Xiongfeng Martial Arts School and leave Spring River City. Otherwise, I'll make sure you suffer far worse."
His hatred for Zheng Xiongfeng ran deep. This man was a lackey of the Li Family, one of Spring River's four great clans. In Zhou Yang's past life, it was Zheng who had led the thugs that beat his father and destroyed their family's martial arts school.
Zheng Xiongfeng seethed with rage. *This little bastard cripples me, forces me to close my school, and exiles me from the city? The audacity!* But with his injuries, he couldn't fight back. Swallowing his fury, he spat, "Zhou Yang, you've got guts. But do you know who backs me? The *Li Family* of Spring River. They'll crush you—ten of you wouldn't be enough!"
He expected Zhou Yang to tremble at the name, perhaps even beg for mercy.
Zhou Yang only smirked. "Oh, I know you're the Li Family's dog. They *are* powerful—one of the four great clans, after all."
Zheng Xiongfeng's expression turned smug. "Then kneel, apologize, and break your own arms. Do that, and I *might* let you live."
Zhou Ziqiang shuddered. He knew Zheng's cruelty firsthand. "Zheng-shifu, this is my fault. Let *me* break my arms instead—just spare my son!"
Zheng sneered. "Zhou Ziqiang, even your death wouldn't satisfy me. *Get lost!*" His hatred was solely for Zhou Yang now.
Zhou Yang understood his father's desperation, but with men like Zheng, weakness only invited greater brutality. "Dad, don't worry. The Li Family can't touch me. Let me handle this."
Zhou Ziqiang stared at his son, pride and guilt warring in his chest. When had he grown so fearless?
Zhou Yang turned back to Zheng. "I won't break my arms. I won't apologize. And your precious Li Family? I'm not afraid of them."
Zheng paled as Zhou Yang's aura pressed down on him. Injured and helpless, he was truly terrified now. "W-what are you doing?!"
"Breaking *your* arms."
Before Zheng could react, two white energy spheres shot from Zhou Yang's fist, striking his arms with a *crack*. Agony exploded through his limbs—rendered useless in an instant.
Zheng's disciples trembled, begging for mercy, but Zhou Yang ignored them. "I know you'll run to the Li Family for revenge. Go ahead. Call them *now*."
Baffled but desperate, Zheng ordered a disciple to dial Li Qiang's number.
The call connected. "Young Master Li! I—I've been injured by Zhou Yang at Ziqiang Martial Arts School. Please, send help!"
Li Qiang, lying in a hospital bed himself, replied flatly, "I can't help you. Don't call me again." The line went dead.
Zheng's face turned ashen. The Li Family… had abandoned him?
Zhou Yang's smile was icy. "Seems they don't care about you."
Zheng, now a broken man, kowtowed. "P-please, spare me!"
"Remember my words. If your school isn't closed by tomorrow, if you're still in this city—I'll find you. And next time, I won't stop at your arms."
Trembling, Zheng nodded. "Y-yes! I'll leave! I swear!"
For the first time, he truly understood: some people were simply beyond his reach.