My estimated timing was mostly accurate. That incident hit me too hard back then. Only after losing many of my already few friends did I regain courage later. I reclaimed what should've been a man's dignity—but it was far too late.

So this time, I had to fix it.

When I arrived, Yue Feather and the others hadn't shown up yet. Worried, I hid at a main road's corner, hoping they were late—not gone.

Luckily, luck was on my side. Within five minutes, the past scene replayed before me. Only now, I watched from the sidelines.

"Uh... we—we're just passing by..." Yue Feather stammered timidly. Then a punch slammed him to the ground.

Life's turning point happened here. Ji Fan would rage up to fight back. Yue Feather would cower, frozen. Even Wei Xiaoxin and Tong Junxiao would step in to help.

Thing is, Tong Junxiao usually seemed far more timid than Yue Feather.

I sprinted to a street-side payphone and dialed '110'. Emergency calls cost nothing from public booths.

"Hello, robbery on Huangma Road. Yes, right by that arcade."

I quickly told the police everything, then hung up.

Even if cops left immediately, they'd take time to arrive. That window was mine to use. Five against six? No win. Only Ji Fan had real fight in him. But we could stall. Winning wasn't my goal. I needed Yue Feather to find courage—to stop being so timid in everything.

Street fights aren't won by numbers or size alone. Even a girl's body can inflict real damage.

First, I needed a proper weapon.

No bricks roadside, but large stones were there. I grabbed one of good weight. Just as Ji Fan roared, "Fuck your whole damn family!", I charged out.

...

"Talk it out—no hitting!" Ji Fan looked furious. His best friend was struck—he stepped forward without hesitation.

"Huh? Wanna fight back? So what? Be smart: hand over cash nicely. Or we beat you first, then take it."

"You son of a bitch! Stare like that again—I'll kill you!"

"Yeah, your mom must be an idiot to birth a dumbass like you who only glares."

"Haha, he still wants to fight?"

"Say that again, you bastard?" A vein throbbed on Ji Fan's forehead. His fists clenched tight.

Yue Feather, lying on the ground, kept scooting backward. But all eyes were on Ji Fan—no one saw his cowardice.

"You dumbass! Your mom's a whore, your dad's my son—what? Not happy? Huh?" The dyed-hair punk stood arrogantly before Ji Fan, radiating cockiness that made blood boil.

Ji Fan was never rational. Even outnumbered, true anger made him charge recklessly. That's why those who knew him avoided provoking him.

In fights, the craziest scared everyone most. When pushed, they'd trade one life for another—death was real.

Punks looked tough but only bullied weak groups. Cowards at heart, they feared dying.

Unless they were middle school thugs—young bulls fearless of tigers—those truly didn't fear death.

"Fuck your whole family!" Ji Fan snapped. His fist swung out, catching the punk off guard. No holding back—straight to the face. No teeth lost, but blood gushed from his gums at least.

"Damn it! You hit me... fuck..." The guy collapsed, wiping his bloody mouth. Fingers stained red—lightest case, gum damage.

Other punks charged instantly. Everyone except Ji Fan looked defenseless. Six scared of one? A joke.

Thud! A solid punch hit Ji Fan's chest, stealing his breath. Another fist slammed his back.

Once fighting started, Ji Fan's friends wouldn't be spared.

Tong Junxiao, the easiest target, got kicked first. But Wei Xiaoxin tripped the punk from the side, sending him sprawling.

"Get up!" Wei Xiaoxin yanked Tong Junxiao—frozen on the ground—to his feet. He trembled nonstop. Past bullying memories flooded back.

Yue Feather trembled less than Tong Junxiao, but not by much. Worst, he turned to flee.

The moment he twisted away, he saw Silver Bell's delicate face flushed with rage. Whether mad at the punks or his cowardice, it was unclear.

She rushed forward, grabbed Yue Feather's wrist with a snap, and commanded: "Go back."

"Huh?"

Silver Bell said nothing. She hefted her stone, aimed quickly, and hurled it. It smashed a punk attacking Ji Fan square on the head. Blood gushed from the split scalp.

"Agh!" The punk clutched his head, screaming. Head wounds terrified people—biggest weak point. The pain? Anything but light.

"Damn you, bitch! I'll kill you today!" The bleeding punk charged viciously at Silver Bell, easing Ji Fan's pressure slightly. Ji Fan now fought two—barely holding on. Wei Xiaoxin and Tong Junxiao each faced one punk. The last two rushed Silver Bell and Yue Feather.

Yue Feather instinctively stepped back half a pace. But Silver Bell's grip stayed tight—deepening his shame.

Wei Xiaoxin barely grappled one punk. Tong Junxiao got pummeled one-sidedly. Short and small, he had zero resistance.

He tried fighting back—useless. He cried for "Mom," just like old bullying days.

Ji Fan, his protector, was tied up himself.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Wei Xiaoxin slowly gained ground. Though usually sleazy-looking, he wasn't scared in real fights. Now he was winning. For someone barely taller than Tong Junxiao and skinny among boys, it was shocking.

"Find your courage!" Silver Bell glanced at Yue Feather a second before the punks reached her. She shouted fast, then charged without hesitation.

Yue Feather gaped. Silver Bell—the delicate girl he knew—was charging ahead of him.

"Silver Bell!" He rushed after her anxiously. A punk's fist slammed his temple. The world spun. Fear surged back.

Time slowed. To Yue Feather, the world moved like slow-motion film, frame by frame.

Silver Bell drove a knee hard into a punk's groin. A crisp crack echoed. The punk's face twisted. He clutched his crotch and dropped.

Clearly, Silver Bell held nothing back. She aimed for lethal points.

But that was all. The other punk, hearing his buddy scream, whirled around. He pulled a switchblade and slashed at Silver Bell's face.

A hit would leave at least a lifelong scar.

Just imagining a scar on Silver Bell's delicate face made Yue Feather's heart tremble.

That couldn't happen. How could it be allowed?

For a girl, disfigurement meant losing life's hope. How could she live her whole life like that?

How could such a fragile girl be hurt?

Anger burst through his fear. Memories of Silver Bell flooded in—images he'd imagined of their wedding day.

Time still crawled. Even as Yue Feather swung his fist, he saw only slow motion. Anxiety clawed at him like cats, driving him near madness.

"Aaaaaah—!" At the last second, Yue Feather blocked the switchblade with his arm. The sharp blade carved a deep, bone-deep gash. Blood spurted freely.

Pain spiked his adrenaline. His speed shot up. Before the punk reacted, Yue Feather snatched the folding knife, tossed it aside, and kicked hard into his stomach. The punk flew meters away.

Pant... pant... pant...