Chapter 167: Riot — Yan Luo Goes Berserk
When the fourth cart of ore was dumped into the big truck, the small team led by Yan Luo had already completed their task. If they pushed down one more cart, everyone would earn three points each. There was still plenty of time left, and morale was sky-high—at this rate, they could rack up at least twelve points!
The group of rough, burly men were happily buttering Yan Luo up when sudden clamor erupted from the mining area.
“Bro, it sounds like someone’s fighting!” Nan Xun said at once.
Yan Luo’s gaze darkened. Pushing the cart with Nan Xun in it, he took several huge strides and charged over.
In a hidden corner of the mine, prisoners were packed tightly together, forming a circle.
The moment Nan Xun saw this familiar scene, his expression changed abruptly. He hurriedly pushed through the crowd. When he saw what was inside the circle, his eyes flew wide open, and he froze.
Amid the gravel lay a man covered in blood. His head had been smashed open by a rock, leaving a bloody crater, blood gushing out and dyeing the dust-stained prison uniform a deep, glaring red.
By the time Nan Xun reached him, the man was vomiting blood, his body convulsing. After rolling his eyes back a few times, he breathed his last.
A chill rushed from Nan Xun’s head to his feet. His whole body trembled uncontrollably.
He and Yan Luo had seen this man during morning recreation today—the prisoner who had begged Yan Luo for protection.
Nan Xun could still remember the man’s excited expression when Yan Luo agreed. Tears had glimmered in his old eyes, filled with longing for a new life.
He had said he had an elderly mother at home and two children, that his wife had stood by him, taking care of the kids without complaint. He was grateful. He wanted to go back and take care of them, to shoulder the responsibility of being the head of the family.
Before leaving, he had kowtowed deeply to thank Yan Luo. As he ran off, he had glanced at Nan Xun, his eyes brimming with gratitude. At lunch, he had seen Nan Xun again, greeted him warmly, smiling kindly.
And yet—this very man, with only two months left before release, had met his end here. His head smashed with a stone, blood pouring out, dying under the cold, indifferent gazes of fellow inmates.
Nan Xun suddenly lifted his head, his reddened eyes sweeping over the onlookers. A hatred he couldn’t put into words surged in his chest.
“Who did it?” Yan Luo suddenly spoke, his low voice carrying bone-chilling cold.
Nan Xun looked over at him. Yan Luo’s gaze swept viciously across the crowd; the light in his eyes turned into icy, razor-sharp blades. At some point, his large hands hanging at his sides had clenched into fists, veins bulging along his forearms, throbbing violently.
The people forming the circle instinctively took a step back, yet no one spoke.
Yan Luo’s lips curled slightly, but his voice grew even colder. “I’ll ask one more time. Who did it?”
The crowd lowered their heads in unison. Still no one answered.
Yan Luo gave a short, cold laugh. His eyes sharpened, and he lunged several steps forward, grabbing one of the burly men and slamming his head down onto a rock with a loud thud.
A bloody crater instantly appeared on the man’s head, blood pouring out.
The man screamed miserably. “Lord Yan, spare me! Lord Yan, spare me! I’ll talk—I’ll talk!”
Nan Xun noticed blood on the man’s hands and couldn’t help suspecting he was one of the killers. Perhaps Yan Luo had seen the bloodstains on the back of his hand—that was why he’d gone for him.
Just as the man was about to change his tune, seven or eight strong men suddenly rushed out of the crowd and surrounded Yan Luo.
Nan Xun’s expression changed drastically. He shouted, “Bro, watch out!”
It was as if Yan Luo had eyes on the back of his head. Before the first man could get close, he spun around sharply and smashed a fist straight into the man’s eye. Then he grabbed him by the collar and swung him down onto the rocks.
The man weighed at least 180 pounds, yet in Yan Luo’s hands he was like a chick—easily hoisted up, arcing through the air in a half-circle before being slammed down.
Bang, bang, bang…
Yan Luo showed no mercy at all. Grabbing the man by the head, he smashed it against the rocks over and over—ten, twenty times—until the prisoner’s head turned into a bloody, mangled mess.
The surrounding prisoners were so terrified their mouths hung open, not daring to breathe. They even saw chunks of pulp-like flesh mixed with the blood—disgusting beyond words.
Nan Xun opened his mouth too, standing there dumbstruck.
The remaining prisoners were clearly frightened by Yan Luo’s brutality, but with no turning back now, they forced down their fear and lunged at him together.
Yan Luo grabbed the unconscious brute on the ground and hurled him at the three men charging from the front. While those three were blocked, he kicked backward, slamming his foot into another man’s chest, sending him crumpling like his organs had all shifted out of place, clutching his chest and curling up like a worm.
The heavy shackles on Yan Luo’s legs didn’t hinder him in the slightest. Every move was vicious and lethal. Fighting with those cumbersome chains on, he looked even fiercer than usual.
After kicking that man away, Yan Luo swept low, tripping the other two. Then he grabbed one in each hand and smashed them brutally into the ground—again and again.
It was as if he’d forgotten he was holding people. He slammed them into the ground like lifeless objects, as though he wouldn’t stop until he cracked the earth open with these human hammers.
The remaining three were terrified by his ferocity and turned to run.
Yan Luo’s eyes flashed coldly. He kicked one down, then seized the other two by the backs of their necks, clamping down on their throats and lifting them clean off the ground. Only when their eyes rolled back and their tongues lolled out did he smash them into the ground—slam, yank up, slam again—until their heads burst open like smashed watermelons.
“Bro, watch out!” Nan Xun snapped out of his daze and cried out.
The man who had just been kicked down endured the pain of his displaced organs, picked up a large rock, and swung it toward the back of Yan Luo’s head.
Without thinking, Nan Xun leapt into the air and kicked both feet into the man’s back.
The man staggered. The rock slipped from his grasp and smashed onto his own foot. He howled in pain, spun around, and threw a punch straight at Nan Xun’s face.
Nan Xun had meant to retreat a full step, but forgot that the shackles on his ankles were too short. He only managed half a step back. He hurriedly turned his head to dodge, but it was still too late—the man’s fist grazed his chin, pain exploding so sharply he nearly bit through his tongue.
“Fuck, you’re asking to die!” Nan Xun spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground.
“Xiao Bai!” Yan Luo tried to go deal with the man, but another prisoner who hadn’t quite died yet suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around Yan Luo’s leg.
Killing intent overflowed from Yan Luo’s eyes. He lifted his other leg and kicked the man hard in the stomach.
The man convulsed violently, yet his hands stubbornly refused to let go of Yan Luo’s leg.
Yan Luo grabbed a rock and smashed it down onto the man’s hands, pounding until they were a bloody mess. Blood and pulp splattered across Yan Luo’s face.
