The fatso thought that Ye Shaoguang had no guts to ram into them. Once his eyes spotted the car zooming over, he was so scared that he shouted and turned around to try to run.
It was impossible, however, that his two legs were able to outrun four wheels.
Ye Shaoguang retained his cold expression and looked at the quietness before him. He pressed the gas pedal steadily and used one hand to steer the wheels. His other hand were nonchalantly placed on the backrest of the front passenger seat.
His expressions were incredibly calm, as though he was doing a normal, menial action. Menial it was, indeed.
With a thud, the impact sent the fatty flying about a meter away. He fell over and writhed about while screaming in agony.
He was not dead but was incapable of getting up. His legs were probably broken, as were his ribs.
The skinny one, who was still holding on to Ji Mianmian, was shell-shocked. He trembled and shouted, "Murder, murder… help…"
