Chapter 6: The Pretty Boy's Counterattack

Li Huan didn’t even spare him a glance, nor did he have the luxury to guess at the man’s intentions. At this moment, he was equally tense; after all, he was just a small fry with no power, no connections, and no money. If the other party was truly as formidable as rumored, he might be finished this time—at the very least, he would lose any foothold in this city.

A flurry of thoughts flashed through his mind, but Li Huan could only resign himself to the fact that any resistance on his part would be as futile as a mantis trying to stop a chariot. He glanced at the six figures charging through the doorway, taking a deep breath.

He recalled that as a child, driven by curiosity, he’d practiced martial arts with his father, who worked in the stunt business, and had his fair share of street fights. But that was more for fitness; he could handle two or three opponents at most, but when outnumbered, escape was usually his only option. Now, facing this pack of obvious thugs, a chill settled in his chest.

A crowd had already gathered nearby—most of them employees accustomed to rough company—yet none dared step in to help. Even the security guards lingered at a distance, their faces anxious, not daring to approach.

“Damn it!” The idol-faced man was nearly knocked over by the chubby youth and a flash of malice crossed his features. He glanced at the panting fat boy sprawled on the ground, sneered coldly, and jabbed a finger at Li Huan. “You little bastard, you’re dead! If I don’t cripple you tonight, I’ll take your surname!”

“Gu Zexi, have you made enough of a scene? If you’ve got the guts, come at me. Bullying others makes you nothing but a coward!” Su Ci’s face was dark with anger. She probably hadn’t expected things to escalate this far. She shot Li Huan a sidelong glance, a trace of guilt in her eyes.

“Su Ci, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Any man who dares get close to you will pay. And as for this gigolo who lives off women—do you really think he deserves you? You have no idea how filthy guys like him are! Any old woman could have him, even prostitutes…” The idol-faced man’s lips curled in contempt as he pointed at Li Huan. “I said I’d cripple him tonight—he won’t be walking out of here in one piece!”

Li Huan’s expression grew darker, his frustration mounting. What a damned mess. None of this had anything to do with him, yet here he was, being bullied simply for having a few drinks with a woman named Su Ci. It was humiliating. Worse, the other side had numbers on their side—if they ganged up on him, he really might get ruined tonight.

At that thought, Li Huan suddenly gritted his teeth. To hell with it—if he was going down, he’d go down fighting. Better to try than to be beaten and not even dare retaliate. Besides, a man with nothing to lose had nothing to fear. He’d make them pay, and after this, he’d pack his things and leave. Surely this punk wouldn’t chase him across the world? If he did show up in Li Huan’s territory, he’d find things weren’t so easy.

“Damn it, I’ll take you out first!” Rage surged to Li Huan’s head. Before the group of thugs could reach him, he darted forward like an arrow, spun in midair, and landed a perfect roundhouse kick squarely on the idol’s face. There was a dull thud; the idol was hurled backward, crashing hard onto the floor.

A wail escaped the idol-faced man, whose cheek now bore a visible shoe print. His nose seemed broken, two streams of blood spurting from his nostrils. Pain made his eyes water uncontrollably; he could only clutch his broken nose, howling indistinctly.

Li Huan was nothing if not ruthless. The sight of blood sparked a wildness in him. Eyes wide, he lunged, seized the idol-faced man by the collar and yanked him upright, then drove his fist down with all his might.

If he was going to fight, he’d make sure the lesson stuck.

Thud… thud, thud!

The first punch smashed into the idol’s chin. Li Huan shoved him to the ground, then rained blows left and right, pummeling the idol-faced man until his head spun, a line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He was about to land a fourth punch when a furious roar sounded from behind. Before Li Huan could turn, a sharp pain exploded in his shoulder—a kick from one of the charging thugs sent him tumbling. He rolled nearly two meters before coming to a stop.

The kick was solid; Li Huan’s shoulder immediately went numb. He hadn’t even managed to get up before he grabbed the corner of a nearby sofa and yanked himself into cover.

The assailant closed in. Li Huan kept low, saw a leg swing past, and kicked hard at the attacker’s shin, dropping him instantly. He followed with a kick to the man’s head; a heavy thud echoed as a large footprint appeared on the man’s forehead. The attacker’s head buzzed, his eyes rolled back, and he slumped unconscious.

“Big bro… damn it, let’s get him!” Seeing their companion fall, another voice bellowed from behind. Three dark figures leaped forward, encircling Li Huan, while two others moved to help the fat boy and the idol-faced Gu Zexi.

Compared to the battered idol-faced man, whose features were now unrecognizable, the fat boy had only taken a single kick and soon recovered. Supported by his underlings, his face flushed purple with rage, he pointed a trembling finger at Li Huan, a ruthless glint in his eyes. “Wreck him for me! If there’s trouble, I’ll take the blame!” he barked.

Originally, the three henchmen surrounding Li Huan had been poised to attack, but at the fat boy’s words, they hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. Fine words were one thing, but if things really went south, the fat boy would walk away clean and leave them to take the fall.

Li Huan seized on their hesitation, bracing himself and forcing his body upright. He’d trained under a martial artist as a boy—not brutal techniques, but a solid foundation. Even after slacking off in school, he excelled in athletics, and never shied from a fight.

“Damn it, what are you waiting for? If you don’t do it, I’ll break your legs myself!” the fat boy snarled, emboldened by his men’s numbers. His underlings, clearly intimidated, shuddered and moved in. The burliest of them launched a flying kick at Li Huan’s chest.

Su Ci and her two friends gasped in alarm. Su Ci had meant to plead with the idol-faced man, but he was barely conscious. She glanced at the fat boy, hesitated, and stepped forward, only to be blocked by a young man who wouldn’t let her approach.

There weren’t many customers in the club, but including the staff and over a hundred male escorts from the four sections, the venue was crowded. Unlike in the street, though, nobody intervened. When things turned ugly, the other men scattered, leaving the area deserted; the remaining customers watched coldly from their booths, treating it as entertainment.

Li Huan’s arm was limp and weak from the earlier blow—he knew it wouldn’t recover so soon. Seeing the man’s kick flying toward him, he wasn’t worried; this attacker relied purely on brute force, which might intimidate most people, but Li Huan spotted plenty of flaws.

He didn’t move much, just kept his eyes on the man’s leg. As it came flying in, Li Huan ducked low and hammered his fist into the man’s thigh, just above the sensitive area. The man, unable to stop his momentum, collapsed instantly, his entire leg and groin going numb as if injected with anesthetic.

One down, but two remained. Li Huan couldn’t defend against both; a kick landed on his left thigh, sending him sprawling sideways. The other man swung a fist, but Li Huan’s fall threw off his aim; his punch went wide, and Li Huan, quick as a flash, tripped him. The man pitched forward and landed chin-first with a sickening crack, his screams cut short—his jaw probably dislocated.

Only one opponent remained. Seeing both his companions taken out in a single move, he hesitated, wary now and moving more cautiously.

Li Huan struggled to his feet, though his left leg was stiff and sore. The kick hadn’t been heavy, but his bones were numb, and every step ached.

The fat boy stared in disbelief, blinking in shock before shoving his two remaining men to attack together.

Li Huan cursed inwardly. The numbers were stacked against him, and the ten-plus security guards who trailed the thugs didn’t intervene; even the security chief stayed back, pulling out his phone as if to call for help.

But at this point, Li Huan cared nothing for their backing. He wasn’t about to let himself be crippled without a fight. Meekness only invited more bullying—better to stand firm, and at the very least, he’d lose with dignity.

Besides, by now he was ahead—a one-man army who’d floored five opponents, while the idol-faced man still lay groaning on the sofa, face bloodied and grotesque. Once handsome, he now looked nothing short of repulsive.