Ten seconds passed quickly. The blaring of car horns, the footsteps of pedestrians, and the noisy cicadas all sounded at the same moment, followed by a chorus of unending screams.

More than fifty people surrounding William Bolton fell in droves, because William Bolton had launched his attack while time was paused. No one saw him make a move, and his targets didn’t react immediately either—they remained frozen for those ten seconds. But when time resumed, the effects of William Bolton’s attacks all became apparent.

Of the fifty-plus people he struck, nearly half collapsed to the ground. The rest were all terrified. What was going on? They hadn’t even had a chance to fight back—how did so many people fall so quickly?

The onlookers had thought William Bolton was about to be mobbed. Even the security guards had started dialing 120 to call an ambulance for him, but no one expected the situation to reverse so suddenly.

William Bolton actually knocked down twenty people in an instant. No one saw how he did it. William Bolton picked up a white wax stick from the ground, grabbed both ends, and snapped it in half over his thigh. Smiling, he swept his gaze over the crowd and said, “I have a skill called ‘Eighteen Throws with a Touch of the Clothes,’ and another called ‘Killing One Person Every Ten Steps.’ Would any of you like to try again?”

Whoosh!

These people came quickly and left even faster. In the blink of an eye, they had all fled. In the distance, police sirens wailed as officers arrived and took away a few who hadn’t managed to escape.

William Bolton tossed the broken stick to the ground and waved lightly at Eric Bennett, who was watching from the window, leaving behind a scene stained with blood and heroism.

One William Bolton is worth ten security guards!

At the weekly meeting, President Clark gave the opening speech and took the opportunity to harshly scold the head of the security department—not because of William Bolton, but because this incident revealed the department’s incompetence. If they couldn’t even protect an ordinary trainee reporter, how could anyone expect them to protect the leadership in the future?

Privately, President Clark believed that William Bolton was a promising talent—capable of firefighting, able to serve as security, and in just a few days had already been tested by both blood and fire. Such a comrade was truly of outstanding quality.

Evil can never triumph over justice. Journalists must always keep a fearless heart! Never bow to the forces of darkness!

Chief Editor Bennett spoke passionately, as if he himself had been the one to drive off the troublemakers at the gate today, rather than William Bolton. After all, it was his name on the byline of that report which caused a sensation throughout Pengcheng, while William Bolton was just the photojournalist. If even a photojournalist faced such pressure, then as the writer, he naturally faced even more.

The best way to divert attention from a hot topic is to create a new one.

That was the view of the Culture Department reporter, Emily Scott. With Student Aid Day coming up, it was the perfect opportunity to shift the public’s focus in Han County from clenbuterol to caring for left-behind children. The issue of ractopamine had already drawn enough attention, and now that six national ministries had jointly issued a directive, it was up to the relevant departments to enforce it. In a sense, the newspaper had already fulfilled its mission.

Emily Scott’s suggestion was unanimously approved by those present, especially by President Clark, who gave it his full support.

After the battle at the newspaper’s entrance, William Bolton’s reputation, which had nearly hit rock bottom, instantly rebounded to five thousand. William Bolton was beginning to make a name for himself in Han County. After all, a one-on-fifty street brawl was rare in the county’s history. Word spread quickly, and many people now knew that the newspaper had a new martial arts master skilled in ‘Eighteen Throws with a Touch of the Clothes.’ Han County was known for its martial arts and had many folk masters. After hearing about this, many of them were eager to visit and challenge this young expert.

Next week was Student Aid Day, and the newspaper had already decided to use Emily Scott’s report on left-behind children as the front-page headline. The photo of the big-eyed girl he had taken would be placed in the most prominent position on the front page, and Emily Scott specifically informed him that his name would appear on the photo credit.

After the laptop explosion, Emily Scott regarded William Bolton as her benefactor and her attitude toward him had improved significantly. So, being servile doesn’t necessarily earn respect; if you want to win someone over quickly, you have to use some strategy. Even if you’ve wronged her, you still have to make her feel grateful to you.

William Bolton originally planned to rest until next Monday before returning to work, but the HR officer, Brian Turner, called and asked him to come back to the newspaper right away—there was a new assignment for him.

“What? You want me to be stationed in Limiao Town?”

William Bolton’s eyes widened. He thought he was being called in for a commendation, but it turned out to be a reassignment.

Brian Turner laughed. “Why are you staring like that? This is a great opportunity!”

“A great opportunity?” William Bolton didn’t see it that way. He had come from Pengcheng to Han County as a trainee reporter, and after just half a month, he was being sent from Han County to Limiao Town, thirty kilometers away. It was getting more and more remote.

“You’re still a trainee reporter. According to our company’s rules, during the six-month probation period, everyone has to spend a month stationed at a rural news outpost. That’s how everyone gets started—no exceptions. And only those whom the higher-ups value and are considering for a permanent position get this opportunity. So it’s a good thing. President Clark really appreciates you—he even praised you specifically at the meeting.”

“What did he praise me for?”

“He said one William Bolton is worth ten security guards.”

No matter how William Bolton heard it, it didn’t sound like a compliment. Since when did reporters and security guards become interchangeable like that?