Under the streetlights, a few thugs squatted, smoking, with yellow hair and leather jackets. They ground out their cigarette butts with their feet and walked over with vicious expressions—more precisely, they walked toward Ethan Brooks.

The leader, a sallow, skinny young man with a hideous scar on his face, stared at Ethan Brooks and sneered, “Last time you got lucky, kid. This time, I’ve got all my guys with me. Tonight, if you don’t die, you’ll at least lose an arm.”

There were about seven or eight of them, all holding something in their hands, exuding a desperate, reckless energy. The chains on their clothes glinted, and their eyes were full of malice.

William Carter: Oh boy, here comes a major plot point from the original—someone’s here for revenge. He regretted not bringing a bodyguard when he went out today.

In the darkness, Ethan Brooks gave a cold, indifferent smirk. The hostility and ruthlessness on his handsome face were even stronger than those of the gang. Just as well—he was feeling extremely irritable, and these guys were here to let him vent.

He reached out and grabbed William Carter’s wrist, his voice low and icy: “This is my mess. You go first.”

How could William Carter leave him behind? If he left him alone, Ethan Brooks would lose his hand.

William Carter pulled him behind, his expression cold: “Shut up. I’ll handle this.”

Ethan Brooks: “……”

The red-haired thug in the lead laughed.

William Carter’s outfit made him look like a goody-two-shoes, and he was even holding a math book—clean and delicate, with absolutely no intimidation factor.

The thug spat on the ground, stepped forward, and grabbed William Carter by the collar. “Don’t meddle in things that aren’t your business, or you’ll get yourself in trouble. But you already did, so tough luck, little chick. I love beating up nerds—best if I knock you stupid.”

He grinned, swung his arm, clearly intending to slam William Carter into the utility pole.

Ethan Brooks’s expression turned cold.

But in the next second, a scream echoed down the street—the one knocked to the ground was actually the red-haired thug!

In a flash, William Carter countered, restraining and kicking in one smooth motion. The boy’s light brown hair brushed over his brows, and his usually gentle, obedient features now looked sharp and fierce.

The redhead clutched his stomach on the ground, looking up with wide, angry eyes: “You’ve got a death wish!”

“Let’s see who dies first.”

William Carter sneered, rolled up his math book, stepped on the redhead’s arm, and started hitting his head with the book. Every blow was full force.

The others stared in shock.

Even Ethan Brooks, who had always remained calm in the face of danger, was stunned for a few seconds by this kid.

The redhead howled as he was hit, trying to struggle, but William Carter’s strength was terrifying. Humiliated and furious, he turned and roared, “What are you all standing around for? Grab your weapons and beat him to death!”

The underlings snapped out of it—they had weapons! Instantly, they surged forward with iron rods and knives.

“You’re dead, kid! How dare you mess with the Qinglong Gang!”

“Even if you beg for mercy tonight, it’s useless!”

William Carter lifted his foot off the redhead, entered a few numbers on his phone, and as he waited for the call to connect, gave the thugs a cold smile.

“Still calling for daddy?”

He patted the redhead’s face with the math book and sneered, “If you want to survive in this world, do your homework first. Ask around—on both sides of town, who’s the real boss?”

“……”

The thugs had never heard anyone so arrogant—their faces turned green with rage! Damn, how could anyone be this cocky!

As for Ethan Brooks, he was genuinely amused by this kid.

The irritation in his heart slowly faded away with the gentle night breeze. Maybe William Carter brought a lot of unpredictability, but he also brought many new experiences.

At least, none that he disliked.

The redhead was so angry he almost jumped up on the spot: “You’re calling for backup? It won’t help! Tonight, it’s either you or me!”

William Carter was already on the phone: “Hello, Uncle Morgan? Drive the car in. There are some delinquent kids blocking traffic here—just run them over while you’re at it.”

Chapter 11: Venting

Uncle Morgan answered the call, completely confused: “What???”

But he still did as the young master said and drove the car in.

The headlights came on, two beams piercing the dark street.

The thugs felt blinded, unable to open their eyes, their faces full of fear.

“Shit! Is this for real?”

The redhead looked at William Carter like he was crazy—maybe he really was scared something would happen. He scrambled up from the ground, shouting, “You just wait!” A few underlings dropped their weapons with a clatter, helped their boss up, and ran off as fast as they could.

Uncle Morgan honked a few times, watching the thugs flee in panic, then parked in front of William Carter.

William Carter was talking to Ethan Brooks: “It’s just a bunch of punks. If they come looking for a fight, don’t go head-to-head with them—make good use of 110.”

He was worried that if he wasn’t around, Ethan Brooks would end up with a broken hand again.

A genuine smile flickered in Ethan Brooks’s dark eyes as he nodded.

William Carter added, “Did you buy insurance?”

Ethan Brooks: “No.”

William Carter offered advice: “Go get some insurance. Then you can walk down Lianyun Street like a boss.”

Ethan Brooks smiled: “Okay.”

Uncle Morgan: “……” Young master, I think there’s something wrong with your way of thinking.

Back in the car, Uncle Morgan gripped the steering wheel and asked curiously, “Young master, is this the friend you hit it off with at first sight?”

William Carter: “Yeah, isn’t he handsome?”