The metallic tang of blood filled Guyen’s mouth, his head buzzing. He kicked away the boy clinging to his waist. Just as he turned, a punch slammed into his right cheek.

"Fuck!" Guyen grabbed the lanky boy’s sleeve and drove an elbow into his nose.

"Cough, cough." The boy shook his head, dazed. Before he could recover, Guyen punched him hard in the gut. Doubling over with a twisted expression, he was kicked away, skidding across the ground.

Guyen was tall and muscular, an avid sportsman with top-notch fitness. But outnumbered, he was already battered and bruised.

He scanned the scene. His side had three: Zhang Ning grappling with the fat guy, Zhao Zhuoyang facing Wang Chengwen and the remaining boys. Zhao Zhuoyang was like a madman, ignoring the tall boy who matched Guyen’s height, charging only at Wang Chengwen.

He didn’t speak, his eyes bloodshot like a wounded wolf’s, only lashing out wildly.

Jiang Juan stood at the alley entrance, watching the chaotic brawl. Without looking back, he spun toward the school and sprinted away.

He knew well that no one could predict how severe a fight would get. Once both sides were blinded by rage, it was always their families who ended up weeping.

Scenery blurred past as he ran. Air pressed against Jiang Juan’s chest; his throat was dry, with a faint metallic taste. Students stepped aside. Those who recognized him—the usually calm Student Council President—paused, puzzled by what could have shaken him today.

Jiang Juan just ran, pouring all his strength into it. When was the last time he’d run like this? He thought back—it felt like never.

"G-gate guard," Jiang Juan gasped, bent over with hands on his thighs. "Outsiders... blocking our students nearby... fighting fiercely... send help!" He’d covered the ten-minute run in just five, breathless as he relayed the situation.

Sweat soaked his bangs, strands sticking together messily. He looked utterly disheveled, yet his lake-blue eyes sparkled with an unusual intensity.

"Student, what’s happening? Lead us there first," the guards said. They couldn’t ignore this. Though the fight was off-campus, it was close. If something serious happened, dismissal was likely.

"Follow me. Three or four of you," Jiang Juan said, catching his breath as he led the way.

He’d thought himself a complete egoist. But he was wrong. He couldn’t stand by. He wasn’t like his father, Jiang Jianguo.

That’s good, Jiang Juan whispered to himself.

The alley brawl had escalated. Both sides were hot-headed youths; neither would back down.

Wang Chengwen shook his buzzing head, his right cheek swollen. He spat to the side—a bloody mix containing a tooth.

"Motherfucker," he muttered, glancing at the ground. His tongue probed the gap in his mouth.

Wang Chengwen scanned around, grabbed a wooden stick from the corner, and with a fierce look, swung it sideways at Zhao Zhuoyang, who was pinned by the burly boy.

"Agh!" Zhao Zhuoyang cried out in pain. The boy holding him froze, looking up at Wang Chengwen’s bloodshot eyes, and instinctively let go.

Zhao Zhuoyang clutched his left arm with his right, collapsing to the ground. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead onto his uniform.

Guyen was struggling against three opponents, tiring fast. At Zhao Zhuoyang’s cry, everyone in the alley froze.

"You son of a bitch!" Guyen snapped first. He shoved aside the bewildered boy in front and charged, kicking Wang Chengwen hard.

"Ugh!" Wang Chengwen flew sideways, crashing into the wall. His legs kicked wildly on the ground as he clutched his right arm, face contorted.

"Fuck! Bro Yang, get the hell out!" Zhang Ning elbowed the fat guy’s stomach, broke free, and ran toward Zhao Zhuoyang.

"Stop! What are you doing? Everyone, stop!" A few security guards, led by Jiang Juan, arrived belatedly from near the alley.

The remaining vocational school students panicked. Glancing at the groaning Wang Chengwen and pale Zhao Zhuoyang, they scattered like birds.

"Damn it, trying to run?" Zhang Ning made to chase them.

"Forget them! Check on Zhuoyang," Guyen shouted, then glanced at Wang Chengwen, ignored by the wall.

Jiang Juan led the guards into the alley. He saw the mess everywhere and Guyen standing in the center, eyes tightly shut.

He knew well: this impulsive clash of youth had no victor.