The classroom of Senior Grade 3 (Class 3) was dead silent, and even the lively corridor outside suddenly quieted down. None of the students had expected that the burly boy, instead of dragging William Thompson to the ground and beating and kicking him as he usually did, was actually unable to break free from William Thompson's grip on his fist, and was even kicked out of the classroom by William Thompson. And that kick was so vicious—normally, at most, students would clumsily punch or kick, but no one had ever kicked someone flying like William Thompson just did. How much strength did that take? After all, that burly student had participated in martial arts clubs in both middle and elementary school, yet he was so easily defeated.

The boy lay at the base of the corridor wall, clutching his stomach and groaning, his face pale and sweaty from the pain, gasping for breath, unable to get up. He never expected that William Thompson's kick would be so ruthless, as if he was trying to kick him to death.

The most notorious coward in the school, William Thompson, had suddenly become so fierce and violent. Such a drastic change left everyone stunned.

"Courting death!" William Thompson said coldly, without a trace of emotion, as if he had just kicked a dog. Back then, when that burly boy and his classmates beat him up, they never treated him as a person—they always beat him as if to kill him. Now, this was just collecting a bit of interest. For the first time, William Thompson had used such force against a classmate, yet he felt no guilt at all. It was simply payback.

William Thompson acted as if nothing had happened, picked up his textbook, and continued reading, completely ignoring the other students who were gasping in shock. The contrast between William Thompson's current ferocity and his former self was so great that no one could process it in such a short time.

All the students kept their distance from William Thompson out of respect and fear. When the school doctor saw the boy's injuries, he absolutely refused to believe that the infamous coward of Huaming High, William Thompson, could have done it. Even the teachers didn't believe it. They were sure that the burly boy had been beaten up by someone from outside the school and that William Thompson was just a scapegoat. With William Thompson's reputation, it would be lucky if he wasn't beaten into a pulp himself—how could he possibly have the ability to beat someone up like this?

Just as usual, William Thompson walked out of the school gate. When he passed a quiet alleyway, a few people suddenly appeared in his line of sight.

Walking alone, William Thompson was still frustrated that there had been no news after he sent the evidence of Brian Clark's father's corruption and bribery by express mail.

Brian Clark and a few thugs were watching him from not far away, all with malicious intent. Clearly, after a few months of peace, they were back to their old ways.

"Hey, fatso—oh no, I should call you handsome guy now. What a coincidence, we meet again!" William Thompson was about to turn and leave, but Brian Clark acted as if nothing had ever happened, grinning wickedly as he walked toward him.

Soon, the thugs surrounded William Thompson. A few students passing by on their way home from school saw that it was Brian Clark and William Thompson, two well-known figures at school, and quickly avoided the scene, eager to watch the drama from a distance. In the past, it was always Brian Clark leading a group to surround and extort or beat up William Thompson just like this. But some students who had just witnessed William Thompson's display of ferocity were secretly watching from afar, curious to see what would happen.

It had only been three months since the incident with Helen Carter, and Brian Clark was back to his old self, acting as if nothing had happened, picking on William Thompson as usual. But he didn't notice that the look in William Thompson's eyes was no longer one of cowardice and fear, but was now filled with anger and murderous intent.

"Yo, kid, you've lost weight, huh? The diet's working. We need to talk to you about something today," Brian Clark said with a wicked grin. He had completely forgotten that a life had slipped away at his hands; the despair in Helen Carter's eyes before her death had only left a fleeting shadow in his heart before fading away. His old man's power really could cover the sky—nothing had happened at all. This made Brian Clark even more reckless.

"What is it?" William Thompson noticed that the thugs with Brian Clark were quietly pulling out a sack, rope, and iron rods from behind. These weren't just tools for an ordinary beating—they were meant to knock him out and take him away. William Thompson had seen this kind of thing in some special agent manuals. The corners of his mouth curled into a calm smile, and his eyes looked at them like a tiger eyeing a flock of sheep.

Section Five

William Thompson never expected that these students actually intended to kill him to silence him. Their guts were unbelievable.

Brian Clark sneered as he stepped closer and closer to William Thompson, though he felt a bit strange inside—why wasn't William Thompson already cowering in fear?

Suddenly, he saw a cold glint in William Thompson's eyes, and a hand chopped down on his neck. After a sharp pain, everything went black, and he knew nothing more.

The thugs with Brian Clark saw that William Thompson dared to fight back and had actually taken down Brian Clark, so they immediately grabbed their weapons and charged at him.

With a cold smile, William Thompson dodged out of the encirclement, spun around, and grabbed the neck of a thug who had rushed past him with an iron rod. With a burst of strength from his hand, there was a cracking sound as the thug's neck snapped. The thug's body convulsed, then immediately went limp—dead on the spot.

It was his first time killing someone, but William Thompson was surprisingly unfazed, as if he had done it many times before. His movements were swift and decisive—this was self-defense; if he didn't fight back, he would die.

After months of training, William Thompson's greatest skill was in his fingers. With just two fingers, he could easily crush a hard hickory nut, let alone with all five fingers exerting force. Not to mention bones—even iron bars would bend.