With a lightning-fast raise of his hand, Ning Fan sent the unfortunate fellow closest to him flying with a punch, and casually snatched a solid wooden stick from his hand. At the corner of Ning Fan's mouth, a cruel smile emerged.
"Come on, let me see what you've got!" Ning Fan bellowed, and he began swinging the stick in his hand.
With a bang, the guy who had just charged forward to attack Ning Fan was struck directly on the head with the stick.
When his head was busted open and bleeding, Ning Fan kicked him away.
Immediately after, Ning Fan rushed into the crowd.
Surrounded by nothing but clubs, in such a pressing situation, an average person would have been beaten to death long ago.
But who was Ning Fan?
He was like a slippery eel, constantly moving through the crowd, swinging the stick in his hand, smashing it down on the gangsters.
The sound of thumping was incessant, so clear even amidst the noise of cursing and the clashing of sticks.