Chapter 149: A Brawl—Who Kills Whom
Nan Xun didn’t dare relax in the slightest. He knew all too well that if Scarface landed even one solid punch, he could end up with a crippled leg, a broken arm, or internal bleeding—guaranteed.
He didn’t have skin as thick as the other man’s, so he had to make sure Scarface never hit him. He couldn’t afford to get injured.
Scarface let out a furious roar and swung his fist at Nan Xun.
Nan Xun dodged left and right, making Scarface so angry that he started cursing nonstop. “Little bastard, if you’ve got balls, stop dodging me!”
At this point, the inmates watching from the four floors above began to cheer. Bloodshed had kicked off a feast of violence.
“Fight! Fight!”
“Kid, get in there already…”
Whistles, cheers, and jeers filled the entire cell block.
Hearing the noise, Scarface felt mocked. His eyes bulged with rage. “Little bastard, I’ll kill you! Stop running!”
Nan Xun burst out laughing. “Are you an idiot? If I don’t run, should I just stand there and let you hit me?”
His words made the crowd laugh. They still clearly remembered how ruthless this kid had been when he beat Scarface earlier—that vicious look in his eyes, like a young wolf.
Scarface chased Nan Xun around, the two of them running in circles for quite a while.
After two laps, Nan Xun suddenly changed direction, crouched to the side to evade a punch, and then threw a lightning-fast strike, landing a perfect punch squarely on Scarface’s right eye.
He didn’t hold back at all. Scarface screamed on the spot, clutching his right eye and dropping to his knees.
Nan Xun pressed the advantage, smashing an elbow straight into his stomach.
Scarface cried out in pain, but at that moment, disregarding everything else, he suddenly clamped both hands onto Nan Xun’s shoulders.
The grip was so strong it felt like Nan Xun’s shoulders were about to shatter.
Once this desperate madman got hold of his enemy, he refused to let go. He abruptly lifted Nan Xun clean off the ground and slammed him hard toward the floor.
Nan Xun’s expression changed instantly. As he was being swung up, his hands, in the chaos, accurately found Scarface’s eyes, and his fingers jabbed straight into them.
Scarface let out another agonized scream. In the instant he loosened his grip, Nan Xun flipped backward in midair, executing a clean back roll and landing steadily on his feet.
Scarface clutched his eyes and howled in place, clearly in excruciating pain.
“Brother Dao!” Several lackeys rushed forward to help him, but the big man, writhing in pain, flailed his fists wildly, beating the helpers until they were bruised and battered.
A flash of resentment crossed the lackeys’ eyes, but they still went together to restrain him, then carried him away to the A Block infirmary.
The fight finally ended. Nan Xun was on the verge of collapse. He stood in the arena, gasping for breath, trying to calm his heart, which had nearly leapt out of his chest.
If he’d made even the slightest mistake in any of those steps, he had no doubt that his fate would have been far more miserable than Scarface’s. He would have been beaten until his skull split open, his body covered in blood, until he died.
And then these spectators would only have looked on with numb expressions as he lay in a pool of blood, until death took him. The next morning, when the guards came to announce morning exercises, only then would his corpse be discovered.
He would have died silently in prison, without a single tear of sympathy shed for him.
So Nan Xun didn’t regret being so ruthless just now. If it weren’t for Scarface’s lackeys, he would’ve liked to kill the man outright. After all, the enemy had already been made—leaving him alive would only invite future trouble.
Nan Xun shook the blood from his hands. Thinking of how that man had strutted around earlier, he couldn’t help but mimic the pose himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets, humming a tune, and strolling upstairs at an unhurried pace.
Wherever he passed, people instinctively stepped aside. Even so, they couldn’t help sneaking glances at him, thinking to themselves: This brat who beat Scarface until he screamed—damn, he’s cool.
Iron from Cell 242 stood there stunned for a while, then waved for Number Two, Number Three, and the others to follow him.
The door of Cell 242 slammed shut with a bang, cutting off all those probing, shocked, and fearful gazes.
“Little Six, I didn’t know you were this capable. Big brother really underestimated you,” Iron laughed a couple of times, but thinking about how vicious the kid had been just now, he suddenly felt his teeth ache.
Nan Xun slung an arm over his shoulder like a buddy. “Big brother, it was just luck that I took Scarface down. I’ll still need big brother to have my back from now on.”
Iron immediately patted his chest in assurance. “Of course! From now on, Little Six, you’re my real little brother!”
As he said this, Iron glanced at the hand resting on his shoulder—it was still smeared with blood. Scarface’s blood, the second-in-command of A Block.
Number Three had already brought over a basin of clean water, fawning eagerly. “Little Six, wash up. Look at you, you’re filthy.”
Number Four and Number Five stood on either side, pounding Nan Xun’s shoulders and massaging his back.
Number Two, Du Pan, awkwardly rubbed his neck and said with a chuckle, “Little Six, if your second brother had known you could even take down Scarface, I would never have dared to mess with you. I was in the wrong before—don’t hold it against me.”
Nan Xun shot him a sideways glance. “Second Brother really looks like a fox.”
Du Pan laughed dryly. “Good eye, Little Six. Everyone used to call me the Smiling Fox.”
Nan Xun: …
They’d be seeing each other every day from now on, and Nan Xun didn’t want to make things awkward. He gave Du Pan a light punch to the chest. “No next time. Otherwise, fists will do the talking.”
Du Pan laughed twice, thinking to himself, Just a kid—so easy to placate.
“Little Six, you were amazing! Do you know how long Scarface has ruled A Block? You’re only the second person to ever beat him!” Number Three said, his face full of admiration.
When he’d heard Su Mobai was a college student, he’d already admired him greatly. During the initiation earlier, he’d even worried the kid wouldn’t survive and would smash his head in. He never imagined that someone who looked so harmless could be even more ruthless in a fight than Scarface.
Nan Xun’s eyes shifted as he feigned curiosity. “I’m the second person to beat Scarface—so who was the first?”
The five of them suddenly fell silent. After a long pause, Du Pan was the first to break the silence. The trademark smile was gone from his face, replaced by a serious expression.
“Little Six, this is someone we can’t afford to offend. If you ever see him, stay as far away as possible. Don’t even think about testing his bottom line.”
Nan Xun nodded quickly. “I won’t provoke him. Can you tell me who he is?”
Du Pan gave a short laugh and looked toward Iron. “This is something the boss should explain.”
Iron shot him a glare, then unconsciously lowered his voice. “Yan Luo. Nickname: King of Hell. In our line of work, he’s… this.”
He raised his thumb at Nan Xun.
“Other than drug trafficking, he does everything,” Du Pan added.
“Like what?” Nan Xun asked.
Du Pan: “Smuggling.”
Number Three: “Nightclubs.”
Number Four: “Gambling dens.”
Number Five: “Murder.”
