Right now, Ryan Ling's face was basically a giant question mark. How could a high schooler with zero inner strength explode with this kind of monster power?
Meanwhile, Tony Zhang had no clue what was going on—he was just cheering nonstop, like Ryan's punch had instantly wiped away all the frustration from getting bullied earlier.
Frank Fan and Harvey Zhao exchanged terrified glances—their teeth chattered as they instinctively retreated two steps. Harvey had never witnessed anything like this, and even though Frank came from a martial arts family, he’d never seen such raw power before.
Across the way, Darren and Dirk Qiu’s faces were thunderous. Their hearts skipped a beat, but as seasoned killers from the Iron Fist Sect, they quickly steadied themselves and rushed over to help their kneeling brother, Drake.
“Hold up—did I say you could help him? He kneels here until sunrise!” Ryan Ling shot them a frosty glance, as if they were nothing but ants.
“What did you say?” Dirk Qiu gritted his teeth, feeling as if Ryan’s words landed like a slap across his face.
At this point, Darren Qiu’s face was pure murder. He hadn’t planned to go all-out in public, but now he wanted Ryan Ling chopped to pieces.
Are you all deaf, or just too dumb to understand human speech? You dare stir up trouble at Harbor City High and attack my friends? I’m being generous by not ripping his head off!” Ryan Ling snorted, not giving the Iron Fist Sect’s elites a second thought.
Hell yeah! Make that bastard kneel—coming here to pick a fight and throw punches, he needs a little pain to learn his lesson!” Tony Zhang couldn’t help but shout from the back.
You think the Iron Fist Sect just takes beatings lying down?' Dirk Qiu finally snapped, lunging at Ryan Ling like a wild tiger.