Phuc_Nguyen_hong

Giang had lived a miserable life since childhood, wandering like a stray dog through a ruthless world. As he grew up, he became a victim of school violence, trampled down into the filth of society. But Giang refused to accept it—he wouldn’t let fate crush him like garbage.

Through blood and tears, he rose, throwing himself into brutal challenges, enduring countless hardships to build his own power. He formed gangs, personally purging evil according to his own sense of justice. But when he finally climbed to the top of the food chain, when everyone was forced to bow before him, would that justice still exist?

WHY AM I CRYING ?

Goosebumps rose on my skin, a strange excitement coursing through me. A quick count showed at least five guys in there. I turned to OWL, swallowed hard, and asked:

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Count to three, then say it."

"Let's go watch the drama!" – I pointed two fingers at OWL

"Let's go beat them up!" – OWL pointed two fingers at me.

I stared at him in silence, then came to a conclusion:

"Let's go with my idea. After all, I'm the president."

We moved closer, keeping our distance to observe. Amidst the chaotic crowd, I saw two people kneeling in the middle of a circle.

The older one had layered hair, pale skin, and was about 1.68 meters tall. His build was average, but a long scar ran from his left forehead, down his eye, and to the corner of his mouth. Definitely a slash wound—probably from some past incident.

The younger one also had pale skin, natural blonde hair, and strange gray eyes. He was around 1.65 meters tall. These two brothers were clearly caught up in something bad.

"Let's go. Not our business."

OWL glanced once, then turned away. I also walked off, but after just a few steps, curiosity got the better of me. I turned back—and what I saw made my blood boil.

The older brother got kicked straight in the face. He fell to his knees, clasped his hands together, and begged. But those bastards didn't stop. They kept kicking him, even spitting on his head.

I signaled OWL to stop and headed back toward the group.

These guys were big—the smallest one was probably 1.7 meters tall and weighed at least 68 kilos. But compared to Kiên, they were nothing.

I put on a cheerful front, stepped closer, and asked:

"Hey guys, what's got you so worked up? Why are you beating them up?"

A new voice made them turn toward me. One of them, his face red with anger, spat while grinding his teeth:

"The fuck? Is this your business? Get the hell outta here!"

I stepped back, wiping his spit off my face. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with these guys? Ever heard of oral hygiene?

I glanced at the older brother. Finally, he spoke, his voice trembling:

"My brother… he just borrowed 100,000 (VND) to buy food… I'll pay it all back… please let him go…"

The thug sneered, his voice dripping with malice:

"The fuck? He's been owing me for three days. Interest is 200% per day. That makes it 800,000 (VND) now! No money? Then he can just die!"

The older brother fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face, hands clasped like a beggar:

"Please… I'll pay… I swear I'll pay… just spare him…"

I clenched my fists, my blood boiling.

Stepping forward, I placed my hand on one of the thugs' shoulders. He immediately slapped it away, his face dark with rage.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECES OF SHIT!!!"

BROTHERS