Then, "Hehehe… Fight back… or stay a coward," a devilish whisper continued in his mind.
His heartbeat thundered. A burning heat spread through his chest.
The sinister voice grew louder. "Fight back, fight back."
Zi Fan's eyes turned red. All his hidden resentment was now coming out. He didn't know why the anger surged so suddenly—whether it was because they had come to rob him or because of the earlier beating. But one thing was certain: today he would fight back.
The two robbers noticed that Zi Fan had stopped in the middle, so the fatty reached out his hand lazily to take the money.
But before the fatty's hand could reach him, "Wooh!" Zi Fan pulled back his hand and threw a punch at the fatty's face. The fist slammed in, and a bloody tooth flew from the fatty's mouth.
"Ouch!" With a scream, the fatty stumbled backward.
Zi Fan's chest burned—yet he wanted more. "It feels refreshing." His brain and heart felt reinvigorated.
Seeing the fatty get hurt, the muscular man shouted, "You bastard!" and threw a punch, but Zi Fan dodged it, and it hit the wall.
Finding an opening, Zi Fan ran forward to escape, but all of a sudden, the fatty appeared in front of him.
Zi Fan raised his arm to strike again—but the fatty pulled out a knife. "Stop right there, bastard! Don't move!" The fatty's hand wasn't steady, and his voice was a little panicked.
The fatty closed his eyes, expecting another punch, but nothing came.
Zi Fan didn't resist; he stopped. Then the muscular man hit his chin. "Ouch!" Zi Fan felt dizzy all over; his legs grew weak.
"No, I can't pass out now." Zi Fan shook his head and bit his tongue. The sharp pain cleared his mind. He wanted to run again, but—
"Stop, you—" With that shout, the fatty moved closer to him. Zi Fan raised his hand. "Don't hurt me. I give up."
A punch landed on Zi Fan's abdomen. "You dare hit me?!" the fatty roared in anger. Zi Fan endured it, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.
Suddenly, Zi Fan grabbed the knife with his bare hand.
Blood flowed. The fatty and the muscular man froze. Zi Fan took the chance. He hit the fatty's nose. Blood gushed out.
With a thud, the fatty fell to the ground.
One opponent was down, and the knife was in his possession—but his injured arm made it nearly useless.
"Smash!" A hook struck Zi Fan's face. This time, he couldn't move aside in time, and it hit him. Zi Fan dropped to the ground. He spat out teeth along with blood.
The muscular man moved close to the fatty's side and checked his injury. Finding that nothing serious had happened, he let out a breath of relief.
He glanced angrily at Zi Fan. "You dare to hit my brother!" With a roar, like a beast, he lunged forward.
Zi Fan was already standing. "Damn… he's serious now."
There was no escape. Zi Fan calmed himself and slipped into a boxing stance. He took a southpaw stance, a right-foot-forward style.
The muscular man froze midway, then burst out laughing. "Heh… didn't expect that. You also box?"
The muscular man took an orthodox boxing stance.
"This is bad…" Zi Fan cursed his luck. He hadn't learned much boxing, so he couldn't show any weakness to his opponent.
The muscular man extended his left hand straight toward Zi Fan.
Zi Fan moved his head slightly to the right. The jab passed by, but the muscular man didn't stop; more followed.
While dodging, Zi Fan moved his rear foot backward. He rotated his hips strongly and swung his left arm sideways.
The muscular man leaned back, stepping away.
"There—an opening." Zi Fan stepped forward and pushed off the ground, lunging ahead. He changed his boxing position to an orthodox stance. Without thinking, he shifted his stance—anything to confuse the opponent.
The muscular man, who was moving backward, saw this and lost his balance a little, but he didn't fall and quickly regained his position, then threw a jab. Zi Fan didn't dodge this time; his arm blocked the attack.
But the punch lacked power. At that moment, Zi Fan knew he was finished—it was a sign of a jab–cross combo. A fast one-two came straight for Zi Fan's face.
The muscular man rotated his hips. The punch came fast and heavy—too fast to fully block. Boom—it landed on Zi Fan's other hand. Zi Fan's hand couldn't handle the pressure; it moved aside.
The cross struck Zi Fan's chin. Dizziness consumed him.
He made a quick decision and bit his tongue ruthlessly to force himself awake.
And the muscular man also didn't miss the opportunity. Another jab came. Zi Fan moved his head.
The jab passed. Zi Fan pushed off the ground with his shaking legs and lunged forward—he kicked toward the muscular man's chest.
The muscular man didn't expect it, so the hit struck his chest squarely. He dropped to the ground.
Now Zi Fan had the chance to run, but instead, he moved closer to the muscular man with eerie intent. He kicked the muscular man's legs. "Ahh!" the muscular man screamed. "Why… does this feel… good?"
The thought scared Zi Fan—but his foot didn't stop. "Come on… try robbing me now." A twisted satisfaction crept into him. It was the second time he felt that way, and the first time was many years ago.
When Zi Fan was only seven, a strong kid constantly bullied him. At that time, Zi Fan was wearing the mask of a good person, wanting to make more friends, and he thought that if he fought back, people would dislike him. So, he tolerated it.
But that kid broke his limit, and Zi Fan lost control. He lured that kid to a deserted place.
Zi Fan only wanted to teach him a lesson, but he never imagined that beating people could feel so good. Unknowingly, he killed that kid.
After coming to his senses and finding out what he had done, Zi Fan panicked—not out of guilt, but because people would discover his twisted nature. Nobody would play with him anymore. He would be all alone again.
And Zi Fan feared—he feared very much—being alone.
So, he made a horrible decision. With a knife, Zi Fan cut the dead body into pieces.
He vowed he would never forget how much satisfaction he felt doing that.
After cutting it, he fed the pieces to dogs and scattered the remains in many bathrooms.
To him, killing was not the problem—the real problem was hiding the dead body.
After that incident, Zi Fan was very scared that people would discover it. But thankfully, it went undiscovered.
And from then on, he never fought back.
In the present—
The kicks didn't stop. "Get up… I'm not done."
The fatty came to his senses because of the noise. When he opened his eyes and saw the scene, he couldn't help but think, "What a lunatic." But he didn't panic, because he was also the same kind of lunatic.
He slowly stood up and moved closer with the knife. On his way, there was a small brick that he didn't notice.
He made a noise. Zi Fan looked back at the fatty. A smile appeared on Zi Fan's face.
The fatty thought, "It's all over." Zi Fan moved quickly and threw some jabs.
The fatty knelt on his knees and begged. "Please! Forgive us! We won't do it again!"
Zi Fan paused. He wanted to keep going… but somehow, he managed to stop himself this time.
"If I continue… I won't be able to stop," he remembered the past. "And it will be a headache to hide the bodies," he reminded himself. So he said, "Okay, get lost."
Zi Fan turned around to leave, but at that moment—
A sharp pain exploded in his back. He turned his head to the right and saw the fatty stabbing him. He wanted to grab the fatty and beat him senseless, but—
Then another.
And another.
The blade kept going in—again… and again… It continued until it made 12 to 15 horrible, deep cuts.
To be continued…