Chapter 16: A Bold Idea Realized

But in this life, it would be different.

That deliberately welded crosspiece at the base of the cane was clearly the guard from an ancient melee weapon; with a clang it even sparked, cracking the blade that struck! Now Wei Dong understood he faced a true beast—a savage brute who, even after his rampage, vanished without a trace.

All the old and new grievances erupted at once, yet instead of fear, he burst into laughter. Using the momentum of parrying the blade, he swung the cane back down. His left hand gripped the crossguard, adding force to the blow.

He struck hard, landing a heavy jab right in the man’s chest.

Had the pipe’s end been pointed, it would surely have pierced straight through the man’s heart! Even as a blunt, battered water pipe, the force was vicious. Ribs would certainly break.

The brute screamed, staggering backward, clutching his chest with his left hand, nearly collapsing, but twisting away just in time to flee.

Strong—his body was truly formidable.

But running toward the main street? There was nowhere for him to go. Wei Dong felt a hatred as savage as a cat with a mouse—teeth gritted, brewing with a desire to torment, to toy with, to kill.

A villain’s laugh echoed in his heart—harsh and chilling.

He sprinted after the man, caught up, and brought the cane down on the back of his head.

A crisp crack, a muffled groan—Wei Dong mocked, “Run, then! Use your knife! Let’s see what you can do now! Ha, ha, ha...”

He kept to the left, where the brute was clutching his chest; the right hand with the knife swung uselessly, nearly sending the man sprawling onto the curb.

Wei Dong now controlled his strength, no longer striking to kill—after all, where was the fun in ending it so quickly? He finally saw the man's face clearly: under a wild tangle of hair, his features were rough, brutish, bestial.

But Wei Dong’s focus on his foe made him miss the crowd gathering on the street. In front of the tax bureau’s construction site, a chorus of shocked cries erupted.

The brute, nearly stumbling, seized the nearest figure—Shi Linyan. With her scream ringing in his ear, his filthy arm locked around her throat, waving the knife and roaring, “Don’t come near! Don’t scream...”

Shi Linyan’s voice was piercing, shrill as a banshee’s wail—right in his ear. In a frenzy, he slashed at her.

Wei Dong seized the moment and lunged, slapping hard.

He cared nothing for hostages now. Forty years of hatred surged within him—anyone who blocked him would be slain.

Before fainting, Shi Linyan saw only a young man in a dark gray undershirt, rushing to her rescue. Then her world faded.

The knife had only grazed her delicate arm, leaving a shallow cut before the brute turned away to block the incoming weapon.

But how could he? The oddity of Wei Dong’s weapon was precisely that it defied expectation.

Every security guard had learned to use the riot fork that later became standard equipment. Wei Dong, with only one working finger, couldn’t grip fully, but he had observed every training session closely.

The technique for the T-headed baton was just like the riot fork: a sideways sweep, less lethal but excellent for deterring and dispersing an attacker.

Sure enough, the assailant’s knife hand was forced aside—and with the heavy pipe smashing down, his fingers bent backwards at a horrific angle!

The welded crossguard slammed into the brute’s ear, and blood instantly spurted from his brow.

The other arm had to release Shi Linyan, barely able to keep hold of the knife as he turned to run.

The poor teacher collapsed, but Wei Dong didn’t even glance her way. He carefully avoided tripping over her, and, amidst the cheers of the crowd, leaped forward for another blow.

This time, he struck the brute squarely in the back, making him collapse into a half-crouch, arms splayed, hunched like a crab.

Without hesitation, Wei Dong used the cane’s rebound, gripped the end with both hands, and swung in a great arc like a golfer teeing off.

Blinded by bloodlust, he no longer cared if people were watching. So long as he didn’t strike the head, he maintained a thread of self-control.

The force snapped the brute’s right arm, leaving it dangling limply.

Cries and screams erupted from the crowd. Two students rushed to help the teacher. Groggily opening her eyes, Shi Linyan caught a glimpse of the heroic figure standing over her.

Yet the brute’s vitality was monstrous. One leg was already injured, an arm now broken, ribs shattered, back and head battered—and still he struggled to escape!

His bloodied, ferocious face made the crowd of boys recoil, but Wei Dong, brandishing his trusty cane, twisted his neck violently, releasing pent-up rage, and stalked forward, step by step.

Before Wei Dong could swing again, the brute, seeing the road blocked by people, darted into the dark, deserted construction site.

Wei Dong’s heart roared—if that was the path he chose, so be it.

You still have your knife, and in the darkness, you mean to kill me. Of course I must kill you!

His blood boiled—today, he would kill this dog for sure!

Just as he entered the stairwell, several figures burst out.

Leading them was the man with the thick eyebrows.

Perhaps they’d been lurking, hoping to catch someone returning—after all, when Wei Dong had left in haste the night before, he’d abandoned some odds and ends, making it look as if he might come back.

Now these men rushed out, cursing, ready to catch the villain: “What are you doing?” “You dare wave a knife at me...”

They were seething—after all, they’d spent all night hauling goods and people over rooftops, only for it all to be for nothing.

But they hadn’t expected their quarry to be so vicious—he stabbed the thick-browed man in the chest without hesitation!

Wei Dong saw the blade withdrawn, then thrust again into another man’s neck and chest.

Deadly, ruthless.

The others scattered in terror.

Wei Dong was startled—without his prepared cane, any other weapon would have left him seriously hurt. If not killed, then gravely wounded.

His earlier bloodlust cooled.

He stretched out his arms, barring the students rushing up behind him: “Call the police! Get a doctor from across the street! Don’t come any closer—he’s not getting away, I’ll keep him cornered!”

A few students with flashlights raised them—though nothing like modern LED torches, even their firefly glow revealed the wounded beast, crouched, furious, ready to strike again.

Only with Wei Dong standing firm, cane at the ready, did the brute even dare to edge back, waving his knife.

Many students wrote about the hero who shielded them in their diaries and essays. The red scarf fluttered at their chests—“We must learn from Uncle!”

But the brute’s snarls sounded like he might pounce at any moment.

Wei Dong, though, had calmed. He must not become like this—must not lose control.

Now, with a steady mind, he knew exactly what he was doing. He had avenged himself with his own hands; with these hands he could also build a new life.

His trembling body steadied. He advanced a few steps, exerting immense pressure, backing the brute into a corner.

Behind him, voices called encouragement—someone ran for help.

Then someone picked up a brick from the ground and hurled it.

At once, everyone followed suit—bricks rained down like a storm.

Wei Dong, however, stopped them; only when the police arrived did they finally capture the dying criminal.

The good thing was, with so many broken bones, the earlier heavy blows Wei Dong had dealt were hidden among the injuries from the bricks.

But every student insisted it was this “Uncle” who had saved Teacher Shi.

“Teacher Shi is hurt!” they cried.

What did that matter? Wei Dong, heading out, caught sight of a half-hidden face at the mouth of the alley—eyes met, and it ducked away.

He accompanied the police, introducing himself as a porter from the transport company, just returning from tea, who’d heard cries for help...

Fortunately, the young woman wasn’t foolish—she quickly donned a spare shirt from Wei Dong’s basket, avoiding exposure before the crowd.

Soon, tears streaming down her face, she recounted what had happened, her bloodied sleeve for proof.

A passing student confirmed it was this “Uncle” who’d rushed in to save her, shouting for help.

It was clear: Wei Dong had simply happened to pass by, bravely intervening.

He had saved a woman, then a teacher, and in the end, two lay dead, one wounded—the danger was beyond doubt.

Even when the police went to his rented room and found his hospital discharge papers, the village couple’s recovery records, everything proved his presence was legitimate.

The city leaders themselves visited his shabby room the next day to commend the young hero.

Smiling for the reporters, they asked if he had any requests.

Wei Dong replied that he wished to learn to drive at the transport company, to contribute to the country’s construction.

The official laughed and approved his request.