Chapter 3

I stood up and walked toward him. Before I could even say a word, Tristan sneered and swung a hard punch at my jaw.

I caught his fist in mid-air. With a simple twist of my wrist, a loud *pop* echoed through the room.

Tristan’s shoulder dislocated.

"Aaaahhh! My arm! You broke my arm!" he shrieked, falling to his knees.

He had never experienced real physical pain in his life. The arrogant, untouchable rich kid vanished in an instant, replaced by a whimpering child.

I shook his dislocated arm slightly. He screamed louder, tears and snot running down his face.

Just then, the warning bell for the next class rang. I grabbed his arm, gave it a sharp yank, and popped the joint back into place. The worst of the pain subsided instantly, but he was left shaking, covered in cold sweat.

"Let’s meet up after school. Our usual spot," I whispered, tapping his cheek with a grin before walking back to my clean desk.

The classroom remained silent. Tristan’s friends stared at me as if they were looking at a ghost.

When Tristan finally recovered, he glared at me with pure, murderous hatred. I just winked at him.

At lunchtime, I walked over to the basketball courts near the cafeteria. Within minutes, Tristan appeared, flanked by a dozen massive guys from the sports teams. A few of them were holding baseball bats.

"You're a dead man, Vance! You think you're tough because you got lucky this morning? Get him! I'll pay for his medical bills. Break his legs!" Tristan roared, waving his hand.

They rushed me.

I immediately went into defensive mode, protecting my vital organs with my arms. I let them kick and punch me, but I wasn't just taking the beating. I was using a close-quarters military defense—using my elbows and knees to strike their joints as they closed in.

To anyone watching, I was getting jumped. But in reality, the guys hitting me were the ones letting out muffled groans of pain.

After about three minutes of acting, I saw my opening. I broke through their circle, looking disheveled and bruised, and ran toward the alley behind the gymnasium.

It was a blind spot. No security cameras.

I stopped.

The mob caught up, laughing. "Can't run anymore, can you? You broke my hand with your elbow, you freak! I'm going to smash your head in!"

The guys with the baseball bats swung at me.

I stopped playing defense. My eyes went cold, and I stepped into their guard.

Elbows to the throat. Knees to the ribs. Sweeps to the ankles.

The sickening sound of cracking bones filled the narrow alley.

I moved like a shadow, slipping past their clumsy swings. Their attacks couldn't even graze me. Within two minutes, all twelve of Tristan’s goons were on the floor, groaning and clutching shattered limbs.

Tristan stood at the back, completely frozen. "No... No way. Leo is a coward. How can you fight like this?"

I walked up to him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You guys got away with torturing my brother because the school board protects you. Because your dad owns this place, right?"

Tristan’s eyes widened with terror. He tried to puff out his chest. "If you know who my dad is, you better back off. He can have you thrown in prison with one phone call!"