"Yeah, today's incident has nothing to do with Uncle Alan. The dog was brought by me, and the cigarettes were given to me by Little Grace. The two of us will take responsibility for this. You guys don't need to waste words with me—come at me together, I can take all of you down with one hand!"

The skinny guy, half a head shorter than Brian Kent, stood up with great bravado, spouted wild words, and gave Brian Kent's group the finger.

The two groups hurled insults at each other for a while and finally broke up—this was the most common and least consequential kind of standoff on campus. But such a boring thing would never happen in front of two beautiful girls, so Brian Kent's group simply and decisively charged forward. As for the guy who had been bragging so much at first that Claire Sutton almost thought he was the Chinese version of 007, not only did he fail to impress Claire Sutton by taking everyone down with one hand, he actually got beaten up by Brian Kent's group. The only thing he could be proud of was that, even as he was being stomped on, he gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound. Clearly, he didn't have much skill, but at least he had some backbone.

Meanwhile, a certain someone who was utterly unloyal and unkind even "considerately" helped close the door, then continued to calmly read a magazine under Emily Thompson's contemptuous gaze, as if he didn't even understand the basic principle of mutual dependence. Naively thinking he wouldn't get caught up in the mess, Emily Thompson, who grew up in a single-parent family, especially despised men who were heartless, disloyal, and brainless. So she turned over, deciding out of sight was out of mind. Finally, Claire Sutton, whose attention was mostly on a certain someone, noticed that guy quietly rolling up his sleeves, looking like he was about to make a move. She seemed to be cut from the same cloth as the man in the lower bunk, not intending to warn her "own people" at all, just waiting with a carefree attitude for someone to strike.

"Don't get yourself hurt," Claire Sutton heard the ordinary guy in the lower bunk say something rather baffling. Before she could even process it, she saw the outstandingly handsome and charismatic peacock suddenly make his move. He dragged the poor guy who was being beaten on the ground backward, then delivered a beautiful knee strike to the fiercest attacker. The move was swift—Claire Sutton wasn't blind, she could tell at a glance. She couldn't judge the force, but the burly student who had never lost a fight at school immediately squatted down, whimpering. Claire Sutton instantly realized that the peacock in the lower bunk was no paper tiger; for a student, he was definitely a formidable, well-trained opponent. The second unlucky guy who tried to stand up for his friend was unsurprisingly blocked, his hook punch parried, and then he took an elbow to the cheek, swinging sideways like a pendulum and crashing into the guardrail of Claire Sutton's bed, giving her quite a scare.

In an instant, half of the four were down. Brian Kent took a few steps back, his pride barely keeping him from running out of the room. But even he knew that, no matter what, he couldn't possibly take on the other side. How could he have predicted that this guy, who looked even more like a pretty boy than a pretty boy, was actually so tough? Now he was stuck, not knowing whether to advance or retreat, full of frustration. Just as Brian Kent was in a dilemma, the peacemaker appeared again. The guy who always wore a warm, honest smile put down his magazine, kicked the dog-walking guy in the butt, and said, "If you're not dead, get up." Then he smiled at Brian Kent and said, "Look, our guy's been getting kicked by you for a while, so you've vented your anger. How about we all take a step back and let bygones be bygones? No fight, no friendship—let's just call it even and move on."

Brian Kent, his face flushed, said nothing, leading his battered group out. He figured that direct confrontation wouldn't work, so he'd have to go for a sneak attack later. But just then, the smiling tiger added with a grin, "If I remember correctly, you guys are in Room 04 in the next car, right? I'll bring this Laifu over to visit sometime. Just make sure the attendant doesn't find out I have a dog."

Brian Kent's heart tightened, realizing this was a veiled warning. Humiliated and helpless, he retreated in disgrace, telling himself it was just a strategic withdrawal and that he'd gather everyone later for a comeback.

"Damn, I really only have ten percent of my fighting power without my weapon. If I had it, I would've wiped them out already." The dog-walking guy, who only got kicked a bit on the back and butt and wasn't bruised or battered, sat on the floor, rubbed the mutt's ears, and, completely unfazed, said to himself, "Luckily I protected my face in time—my handsome looks are still intact~"

"You idiot, aren't you ashamed?" The peacock, whose fighting ability matched his looks, said grumpily. His tone was unfriendly, but he still tossed the fool a cigarette.

"Don't smoke, there are girls here. Show some respect." The young man with the dual identity of smiling tiger and ordinary guy said calmly.

And with just that light remark, both the peacock—whose fighting skills would be impressive even among real gangsters—and the dog-walking tough guy, who could take a beating like no other, immediately stopped smoking without hesitation. One put his lighter back in his pocket, the other tucked the cigarette behind his ear.