Seeing Ironhand say this, then turning to look at Chicken Coop and Finch, who was dressed provocatively with her chest squeezed into a deep cleavage by a tight tank top, both of them wearing expressions of deep agreement, William Bolton couldn't help but feel a bit troubled.

He had come to be a teacher, not a student, so of course he hoped to appear more mature and steady. Otherwise, even the students would see him as one of their own, and the teacher’s authority would be greatly diminished. But age is what it is—there’s no changing how old you are. As for his appearance, he could alter it a bit with some immortal arts, but that would basically be plastic surgery, and he didn’t like that idea.

When William Bolton suddenly put on a stern face, the three—Ironhand, Chicken Coop, and Finch—had no idea how they might have offended him, so none of them dared to speak. They didn’t realize that William Bolton was just troubled by looking too young.

The car drove along the tree-lined campus road and soon arrived at the teachers’ single dormitory building.

When the car stopped, naturally Chicken Coop and Finch helped carry the luggage. It was only then that William Bolton noticed that tonight’s only female biker, Finch, actually had quite regular features—a proper nose, proper eyes, a proud chest, long legs, and a perky butt. But her makeup was just too intimidating. She had an afro, purple lipstick, seven or eight earrings in her ears, even a little ring on her exposed belly button, and tattoos. Fortunately, there weren’t any large tattoos—just a small red bird inked on the curve between her slim waist and her hips. As she walked, the tattoo would peek out as her clothes shifted, adding a touch of wildness and allure to her shapely behind.

When they reached the seventh floor, William Bolton inexplicably felt a bit guilty, and only relaxed when he saw the empty hallway.

“Why is there nothing in the room?” Maybe women care more about things like houses and furniture arrangements than men do—even a little delinquent girl is the same. As soon as William Bolton pushed open the door, Finch exclaimed in surprise.

“I just arrived today, so I haven’t had time to set things up,” William Bolton explained as he turned on the light.

“There’s not even a bed—how are you going to sleep tonight?” Seeing that William Bolton didn’t seem annoyed by her questions, Finch couldn’t help but ask again.

“I’ll just sit up all night,” William Bolton shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“How can that do? Brother Dong, I’ll call right now and get you a room arranged!” Ironhand immediately pulled out his phone.

“No need for all that trouble. Just help me tidy up and clean the room, that’s enough,” William Bolton waved his hand.

Ironhand wanted to insist, but seeing William Bolton’s indifferent expression, he swallowed his words and waved at Chicken Coop and Finch to get to work.

The delinquent and the little punk immediately started cleaning. William Bolton walked out to the small balcony by himself and looked down over the whole campus.

At night, the campus was quiet, dotted with lights, shadows of trees swaying, and the occasional sound of frogs and insects. It felt like an escape from the hustle and bustle, making William Bolton feel relaxed and at ease.

Ironhand saw William Bolton standing alone on the balcony, slipped his hand into his pocket and gently gripped that coin in his palm, recalling the shocking scene from earlier. His gaze toward William Bolton was now filled with more awe and fervor, and he didn’t dare disturb him.

After standing there silently for a while, Ironhand hesitated, then stepped outside with his phone and dialed a number.

The room wasn’t big and was pretty empty, so there wasn’t much to organize, but the hygiene was terrible—even cobwebs in the corners, not to mention all the stained marks everywhere. Chicken Coop and Finch, terrified of William Bolton the maniac, didn’t dare slack off for a second. They put their revolutionary spirit of not fearing filth or fatigue to full use, not missing a single dirty spot. After nearly half an hour, they still hadn’t even finished cleaning the kitchen. Ironhand, seeing this and afraid William Bolton would get impatient, had no choice but to lower himself and grab a rag to help out. Luckily, there were no other gang members around to see this—otherwise, if they saw the mighty biker gang boss wiping the floor with a rag, their eyes would probably pop out.

With all three working together, things sped up a lot. After more than half an hour, they finally moved on to the dining room. At this moment, William Bolton on the balcony saw a truck pull up outside the dorm building. In the back of the truck, along with chairs, tables, bookshelves, and wooden beds, sat six burly men. William Bolton looked closely—they were all biker gang members.

At this point, William Bolton naturally knew all this was arranged by Ironhand. Turning to look at the three, sweating and kneeling on the floor scrubbing, he found it hard to stay angry at them for their previous bad behavior.

“Alright, just do a quick job, that’s enough,” William Bolton finally turned back into the room. Seeing the kitchen tiles shining under the light, clean enough to use as a mirror, he hesitated, then finally said something considerate.

“How can that do? If I can’t even handle this bit of cleaning, I, Ironhand, have no business mixing in the underworld!” William Bolton had kindly tried to let them off the hook, but Ironhand stood up, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and said seriously.

Seeing the always well-dressed, stylish, and cool-headed boss Ironhand—who usually had the air of a suave, cold-blooded hero—now linking cleaning with the seriousness of gang life, Chicken Coop and Finch, who were scrubbing the floor, nearly collapsed on the spot.