Damn!
A few young thugs were completely dumbfounded by Li Yan, staggering in groups of three or two.
However, Li Yan's assault did not cease there.
He rhythmically struck each one, with methodical precision.
It was just like playing Whac-A-Mole.
"Stop, stop hitting us..." pleaded the young thugs.
They weren't fools; they could naturally feel the difference in strength.
To force a head-on confrontation would only bring them harm...
Li Yan's hand holding the stick paused slightly.
The stick was poised above a particular young thug's head, just a hair away from striking down. The thug was terrified, his face full of flattery, saying, "Big brother, don't hit! Let's talk this out..."
Talk it out?
'Bang bang bang--'
Li Yan struck three times continuously.
One young thug: "..." This didn't follow any logic. He had already admitted defeat and begged for mercy, yet he still got hit.
Being a thug these days is a life-threatening job.
