Chapter 35: Gang Beating

The oldest of the boys in the goods yard was only thirteen, and none of them were tall. The moment these five walked in, it was like tigers entering a flock of sheep.

Sparring was one thing—everyone could trade blows in a match—but facing these ruffians and thugs, the boys were all terrified and scattered to either side.

One nine-year-old, either frozen in fear or something else, was a little too slow dodging. The leader slapped him across the face, knocking him aside, and the boy held his cheek and burst out wailing.

There was no question of any sparring now. Zhao Jin frowned. What he hadn't noticed was that, aside from Wang Zhaojing, Chen Sheng, and himself, everyone else in the yard wore expressions of cowering fear. Even reckless types like Liu Yong and Shi Manqiang were the same. Sun Dalei was the only other exception—he stood there at a loss, looking back and forth between the two sides.

The five thugs glanced around, then headed straight for the earthen platform, where bundles and food steamers sat, all filled with pastries and snacks.

"Th-these... these are men from Bronze Head at the Black Tiger God of Wealth Temple..."

Someone finally identified their origins, though the voice was kept very low. Looking back, it was Liu Yong whispering. Zhao Jin knew the Black Tiger God of Wealth Temple—it was a small, neglected temple south of the city with hardly any incense offerings—but he had no idea who Bronze Head was.

The five thugs walked straight onto the earthen platform and untied the bundles. The leader clicked his tongue, casually picked up a piece of osmanthus cake, took a few bites, then tossed the rest down. It landed squarely on a boy's head; the boy clutched his head but didn't dare say a word.

The thugs scrambled to open all the bundles and food boxes. The leader laughed loudly and said, "Sure enough, there's good stuff here. Pack it all up—we brothers will feast tonight!"

The other four shouted their assent and immediately started packing. While packing, they didn't forget to help themselves, and they didn't finish what they ate either. Imitating their boss, they flung leftover food at the boys, roaring with laughter whenever they hit someone.

The boys in the goods yard were all stunned, completely at a loss for how to handle this. The lead thug ate half a meat bun, then threw the rest down. The boy he aimed at dodged to the side, and the bun missed.

Many of the children looked at that half bun with pained expressions. Most of them could barely eat their fill; something made of white flour with grease and meat was a rare luxury. If it had been won through a fight by skill, that would be one thing, but to have these thugs waste it like this...

The lead thug, having missed his target, grew angry and embarrassed. He strode down from the earthen platform, kicked the dodging boy to the ground, and roared, "You little punk, you actually dare to dodge?"

The boys nearby cried out in alarm and scattered. The thug kicked a few more times, then glared with his triangular eyes and bellowed, "This place is my turf! You've been playing here all these days without paying a cent. Today, your old man's here to collect. This food counts as the first payment. Tomorrow, you bring more of this to settle the bill, and also... five hundred wen..."

He stumbled over the amount; the thug was clearly calculating just how much money he could squeeze out of these kids.

"Nobody move! Did Tiger Lord say you could leave? How dare you!" Some children were already trying to slip away, but a shout from a thug on the earthen platform froze them in place, too scared to budge.

The lead thug, seeing the timid, fearful eyes of the boys and children, grew even more arrogant. He stood there threatening them: "Don't think you can get away by just not showing up tomorrow. Tiger Lord knows where you live. If you don't come, I'll go—"

"Scum, get the hell out!" The triangular-eyed thug called "Tiger Lord" was cut off mid-sentence.

All five thugs froze for a moment, then erupted in fury. The leader's triangular eyes practically stood on end as he roared, "Who said that—"

"I did!" The thug's words were cut off again.

He had thought he could do whatever he wanted in front of these kids, and being interrupted again and again sent this Brother Tiger into a complete rage. His triangular eyes glaring, he was about to explode—but then he saw a boy step forward. Not the tallest, not the sturdiest, with a fair complexion, holding a five-chi-long wooden pole.

Compared to most of the boys in the goods yard, Zhao Jin's features were indeed somewhat fairer, but in every other respect he looked thoroughly unremarkable.

What these thugs failed to notice, however, was that every boy's gaze in the entire yard was fixed on Zhao Jin—and those gazes held not surprise, but admiration. The boys in the goods yard were startled at first, then immediately felt it was only natural. If Zhao Jin didn't step forward, who would? Only Zhao Jin had such courage!

That triangular-eyed Brother Tiger laughed in sheer fury, pointing at Zhao Jin and saying, "A little brat whose hair hasn't even grown in, daring to spout crap. Go to—"

As he spoke, Brother Tiger raised his foot and kicked straight at Zhao Jin. He expected the kid to go flying and roll on the ground crying, but his kick met empty air—the boy had actually dodged.

The instant Zhao Jin dodged, the wooden pole was already in his grip. He whipped it upward in a savage back-stroke, smashing it hard right into Brother Tiger's crotch. Every word the triangular-eyed thug had been about to say was knocked back down his throat. The thug's features twisted instantly; forgetting all about throwing his weight around, he clutched his groin and stumbled backward several steps. It was lucky he was wearing padded trousers—otherwise that blow would have dropped him flat.

As Brother Tiger clutched his groin, the four thugs behind him stood dumbfounded. It had never occurred to them that these boys, seven or eight years younger, would dare to strike first. Even Brother Tiger, amidst the searing pain, was utterly shocked.

But Zhao Jin gave them no time to react. After the back-stroke, he flipped the pole, gripped it with both hands, stepped forward, and thrust—a textbook spear technique!

Brother Tiger was bent over at that moment, and Zhao Jin's pole was already thrusting forward, as if the thug were offering his own forehead to meet it. Thump! Forehead met wood. The thug's head snapped back violently, and he toppled straight onto his back—and lay completely still.

The boys were collectively jolted; a few even cried out. No one had imagined Zhao Jin would dare to step up and fight, much less that he could knock down that vicious thug in one move. They had never dreamed things would unfold like this. All they heard was Zhao Jin shouting: "This is our place! Get out!"

Hearing this, Chen Sheng, off to the side, tightened his grip on his short cudgel and charged forward with great strides.

The four thugs behind Brother Tiger finally snapped out of it. The one nearest threw down the food in his hand and reached out to grab Zhao Jin.

Zhao Jin had just spent his momentum and was at the exact moment between drawing back and releasing power. He was about to be seized. Zhao Jin's heart lurched—this was bad—but the ferocity from his orphanage brawling days had already surged up. Zhao Jin parted his lips slightly; the moment he was grabbed, he would bite down.

Halfway through its reach, that hand was met with a whoosh and a heavy chop from a curved short cudgel. The thug cried out in pain and yanked his hand back—his wrist was visibly blackening. Chen Sheng, having landed his strike, roared in fury and swung his cudgel upward, slashing it directly into the thug's neck. The man collapsed on the spot.

Seeing Chen Sheng join the fight, the boys across the entire yard boiled with hot blood, like a pile of dry straw touched by a spark—igniting all at once. Fired up with righteous fury, they all surged forward.

The remaining three were still charging down. Two of their companions were already down, but this only made them angrier. The whole yard was full of boys and children a head or even two shorter than them; the thugs didn't think they could lose. They figured their companions had fallen from coincidence and carelessness. The thugs were still thinking: just grab one kid and beat him savagely—beat him into submission—and the rest will be scared stiff.

"****..." One roared in fury, but halfway through his shout, a figure lunged violently from the side and wrapped him in a bear hug. What strength could a little kid have? The grappled thug moved to throw the person off.

But instead of throwing him off, the tackle sent him completely off balance, and he crashed straight to the ground. How is he so heavy? Before he could even process it, someone stomped viciously on his lower belly, and he curled up in agony.

A huge fat kid climbed off him and turned around, very displeased, saying, "He was my takedown. You... you... took advantage."

This person was none other than Sun Dalei. With his size and weight, even an adult couldn't match him. That tackle, if you weren't prepared, was truly unstoppable. The follow-up stomp, however, had been delivered by Liu Yong.

One more down. The remaining two felt their legs go a little weak, but their cursing grew louder, and they flailed their arms wildly, looking utterly vicious. It did manage to intimidate a few of the boys. One of the thugs used this to quicken his pace, trying to break through. Forget fighting—just running away was the priority now.