Seeing William Bolton actually lift his foot and kick at the body of a speeding motorcycle, everyone gasped in shock. Was this guy crazy? If his foot hit the motorcycle, wouldn’t he be crippled on the spot!

Only Ironhand and Tiger Brooks, who had personally experienced William Bolton's strength, had their pupils contract sharply again. William Bolton's boldness and bravery seemed to exceed even their expectations.

Before Dragon Brooks's steel pipe could come down, William Bolton landed a heavy kick on the motorcycle. The speeding motorcycle slid sideways in the direction of the force, leaving a long skid mark on the ground. Then, with a loud bang, Dragon Brooks and his bike crashed to the ground. The heavy Harley landed right on top of Dragon Brooks, its raised wheel still spinning rapidly in the air.

Everyone stared dumbfounded at Dragon Brooks, pinned under the Harley, forgetting even to breathe. To kick a speeding motorcycle, rider and all, four or five meters away—how much leg strength did that take! If that kick had landed on a person, wouldn’t it have shattered their bones?

The night suddenly fell silent!

In the sweltering summer, it suddenly felt as cold as winter.

“Tiger Brooks, right? Looks like your fall earlier today wasn’t hard enough!” William Bolton withdrew his foot, his gaze landing on Tiger Brooks, revealing a row of neat, white teeth as he spoke calmly.

Seeing William Bolton so relaxed and at ease, Tiger Brooks couldn’t help but shiver, cold sweat beading on his shiny forehead.

“Haha, brother, impressive skills! I’m impressed, truly impressed!” Just as Tiger Brooks was facing William Bolton, unsure how to respond, Ironhand suddenly tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushed it hard with his leather shoe, then strode over with a hearty laugh.

“Boss!” The thugs, seeing their leader step in, all secretly breathed a sigh of relief, quickly moving aside to clear a path.

“Impressed? How about I beat you up first, then you can say you’re impressed?” William Bolton didn’t care about some gang boss. Seeing Ironhand with his long hair flowing, strutting over like some big shot, he couldn’t help but get angry, and immediately kicked at him.

Seeing William Bolton show him no respect, Ironhand's expression changed slightly. He flipped his palm, spread his fingers, and reached out to grab William Bolton's incoming leg.

But just as his hand was about to grab the leg, Ironhand suddenly saw a blur—the leg suddenly accelerated, leaving what seemed like an afterimage in the night. Yes, just like the afterimages described in martial arts novels!

Ironhand's pupils dilated in terror, and then a huge force slammed into his stomach. The pain made Ironhand double over like a shrimp, then with a thud, he flew four or five meters and landed face down on the ground.

“Boss!” Seeing Ironhand kicked to the ground by William Bolton, two thugs quickly got off their bikes to help him up and move him aside. The rest twisted their throttles, and their motorcycles roared as they charged forward, circling around William Bolton. Steel pipes dragged along the ground, screeching and sparking.

The circle spun faster and faster, tighter and tighter, trapping William Bolton in the center.

“Looks like you guys won’t stop until I beat you all down!” Seeing the circle closing in, William Bolton frowned slightly, put his things down, and suddenly pushed off the ground with both feet, leaping two or three meters into the air.

Bang! Bang! Bang! While airborne, William Bolton spun and kicked repeatedly, his legs a blur. The thugs stared in shock—if not for the people around them dropping one after another, they’d have thought they were on a kung fu movie set!

In less than five seconds, all the thugs were lying on the ground. Dozens of motorcycles were toppled over, their wheels spinning uselessly—a truly spectacular sight.

After dealing with the thugs, William Bolton clapped his hands, bent down to pick up his bags, and turned to walk toward Wuzhou University.

All the thugs, including boss Ironhand, watched William Bolton leave with terror in their eyes—not one dared to make a sound.

Who the hell is this guy? A Zhongnanhai bodyguard? Damn, are Zhongnanhai bodyguards really this badass? Is he Wong Fei-hung? Damn it, Wong Fei-hung’s been dead for ages!

“Damn chicken-head, what are you still shaking for? He’s long gone!” As William Bolton disappeared into the night, there was still a guy with a chicken-nest hairstyle curled up on the ground, hugging his head and trembling, too scared to get up. A guy with green hair, unable to stand it, gave him a hard kick.

“What? He’s already gone! Damn it, if you’ve got guts, don’t leave! If you’ve got guts, fight me one-on-one! I…” After being kicked, Chicken-head scrambled to his feet, cursing and flipping the bird in the direction William Bolton had gone.

But before he could even finish cursing, Chicken-head was stunned! In the darkness, a familiar figure—one that made every biker’s skin crawl—was swaggering back toward them, carrying his bags.

He was coming back the same way!

“Which one of you heroes still wants to fight me one-on-one?”