"What’s he doing? Where’s he kicking the ball?"
"No idea! He totally had a clear shot at goal just now!"
Up in the stands, everyone watched as Evan Lin suddenly spun around and booted the ball hard in the opposite direction, leaving them all baffled.
A sharp whooshing sound split the air.
The soccer ball traced a high arc through the sky.
"Darren, something feels off about this," Leon Li couldn’t help saying as they were about to leave the field.
"I feel it too," Derek Wang nodded, then turned around.
Bang!
The soccer ball slammed straight into his face, and Derek Wang was knocked flat by the sudden, brutal force.
"What the hell?" Darren Zhao jumped, whipping his head around just in time to see the ball flying away.
The ball spun through the air while Evan Lin sprinted forward, face expressionless.
"No matter who you are, you have to pay the price for your words and actions. Think you can run? It’s not that easy." Evan Lin sneered, eyes locked on the ball. He powered forward, raised his foot, and met the rebounding ball perfectly.
He fired off another kick.
The ball, riding a wild gust, slammed straight into Leon Li’s body, sending him rolling three full times across the turf before stopping.
The whole stadium went dead silent.
Darren Zhao’s face turned ghostly pale as he watched Evan Lin striding toward him, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.
Coach Peter stared, dumbfounded, at the scene in front of him, unable to process what was happening.
Mia Chen froze at first, then snapped out of it and ran straight toward Evan Lin.
"What are you doing!" Mia Chen planted herself in front of Evan Lin, trying to block his path to Darren Zhao.
"This has nothing to do with you. Move." Evan Lin didn’t even glance at Mia Chen, simply brushing past her.
"Those last two shots were on purpose!" Mia Chen refused to back down, sticking close to Evan Lin. "Evan! You need to think about what you’re doing!"
Mia Chen barked a warning at Evan Lin. On the ground, Leon Li and Derek Wang were still sprawled out—one bleeding from his nose, clearly broken by the ball, the other clutching his mouth, two teeth missing.
Only Darren Zhao was left standing there, frozen in place, not knowing what to do.
Evan Lin didn’t even look at Mia Chen, just walked straight past her. As he got close, he reached out with one hand and shoved her aside.
"Remember what I told you this morning, Darren?" Evan Lin stood right in front of him, face icy.
After an entire match, Evan Lin’s forehead didn’t even show a trace of sweat.
"Wh-what are you trying to do!" Darren Zhao stared at Evan Lin, fear gripping him. "You seriously dare lay a hand on me in front of everyone? Evan! Aren’t you afraid of getting expelled?"
Darren Zhao screamed at Evan Lin, voice cracking. After seeing Evan’s performance on the field, Darren couldn’t muster any other thought—he could only hope Evan was too scared to actually do anything in front of the whole school.
The Summer Cup was the school’s most important event. If Evan Lin hit someone during the match, word would definitely reach the principal.
"When I do things, it’s only about whether I’m willing or not—never about whether I ‘dare.’" Evan Lin shook his head, eyes turning cold. He stepped forward, hand curling into a claw, reaching for Darren Zhao.
Darren Zhao’s face twisted, and he swung his fist straight at Evan Lin.
"Idiot."
Evan Lin snorted. Darren Zhao’s vision blurred—then suddenly his throat was clamped tight, a crushing sense of suffocation overwhelming him.
Evan Lin grabbed Darren Zhao by the neck, lifted him up with one hand, tossed him into the air, then kicked out, his foot smashing into Darren’s lower leg.
"Aah!"
Darren Zhao spun twice in midair before crashing to the ground, clutching his right leg and rolling around in agony.
"Evan!"
Mia Chen’s face went pale, eyes blazing with anger as she stared at Evan Lin. She rushed over to check Darren Zhao’s injuries, while Evan Lin, ignoring everything, walked over to Derek Wang and stomped down on his right knee.
"Aah!"
Derek Wang clutched his mouth with one hand and his knee with the other, rolling on the ground in pain.
Evan Lin didn’t spare Derek Wang a glance and walked straight toward Leon Li.
"Stop!" Mia Chen shouted at Evan Lin, her face pale as she spun around to block Leon Li. Leon’s eyes were filled with terror.
"Move." Evan Lin frowned at Mia Chen, spitting out the words coldly.
Mia Chen gasped, not even realizing what happened—she just felt herself shoved aside by a sudden force.
Evan Lin stepped forward, lifting his foot again.
"Stop!"
Outside the field, Mr. Zheng had just gotten a phone call, heard what was happening, and rushed over—arriving just in time to see Evan Lin raise his foot. His face changed as he roared at Evan.
But Evan Lin had no intention of stopping. He didn’t even look at Mr. Zheng, just stomped his foot down on Leon Li’s knee.
Crack.
A sharp, brittle sound rang out.
Leon Li passed out from the pain, lying motionless on the ground.
The whole stadium was silent.
Fang You stared blankly at the scene, unable to say a word.
Everything happened so fast. Gradually, voices started to rise in the crowd.
"Did that guy just attack someone in front of everyone?" Some confused students still couldn’t wrap their heads around it.
"Looks like it! He’s insanely fierce—fighting on the field in front of the whole school, during the Summer Cup!" someone exclaimed.
Instantly, the whole stadium erupted.
"Evan Lin! You—you—!" Mr. Zheng pointed at Evan Lin, so furious he was lost for words.
Evan Lin ignored Mr. Zheng and walked off to the side, hands in his pockets. He stood in front of the ball and glanced at Class 3’s goal.
He planted his feet and took two steps forward.
He swung his leg, and the kick exploded against the ball like a thunderclap.
The soccer ball warped instantly under the force, squeezed into an oval, then shot low across the grass toward the goal, trailing a wild gust.
From the stands, wherever the ball passed, all the grass bent in the same direction, as if a storm had swept through—a furious beast charging at full speed.
Bang.
The ball tore through the crowd, slammed into the goal, dragged the net behind it, and punched straight through, landing far away.
"Trash." Evan Lin spat out the word, hands in his pockets as he turned away.
Mr. Zheng’s outstretched finger was still frozen in the air, his whole body shaking with rage. But Evan Lin didn’t even glance at him, just walked right past.
"This guy—he’s got real personality! That beast-like explosive power! He’s got the potential—no, he’s guaranteed to reach the throne of football!" Coach Peter couldn’t care less about his interpreter or the pale-faced Charles Zhang, stumbling down from the stands.
The sight of a foreign old man sprinting across the field instantly caught everyone’s attention, but Coach Peter didn’t care at all.
But by the time he made it to the field, Evan Lin was nowhere to be seen.