Qiao Yiyuan hadn't expected such a crowd to be waiting for him, and he soon realized they were spoiling for a fight.
Although his rage was evident, he kept himself composed, his fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. But on his face, he maintained his characteristic arrogance.
One by one, the young men sprawled on the ground started to get up, while those who were still unconscious were dragged to the side.
Laughing even more wildly than before, Han Weitao drew in his breath sharply as the wound at the corner of his mouth gave a painful twinge. Then he cast his triumphant glance crosswise at Qiao Yiyuan.
"You have brought this on yourself, you know that? Weren't you always so cocky? Come on, show me your swagger! Show me! Hahaha--- today you'll find out what it's like to meet your match!"
Abandoning his verbal taunting, he moved to the side with a smirk, ready to enjoy the show.
