Chapter 36: Coming Forward

At 3:30 p.m., in Lyndon Academy, William Jacques stormed into the activity room of the school's Hip-Hop Club like a gale. Everyone there cast him surprised looks, some even with anger in their eyes, but he didn't care. He rushed to the center of the crowd, his face flushed, grabbed Hancock by the collar, and roared like a beast: "Hancock! You piece of shit, maggot in the toilet, what did you do to Andre? Bastard, if you have a problem with me, come at me, why go after him?"

Hancock looked utterly bewildered, but his reaction was anything but slow.

With a dull thud, William's chest and abdomen felt as if struck by a hammer. His body curled up like a shrimp, and pain twisted his face.

"You've got some nerve, barging in here."

Hancock slapped him hard across the face: "You went to the Wah Ching, huh? Think I'm afraid of those Easterners?"

He was immensely strong; William Jacques fell straight to the ground, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Yet he still cursed: "Hey! Shit, hit me, keep hitting me, just let Andre go, okay? He only hit you with a training sword. You garbage, if you want revenge, having someone beat him up is enough. What the hell are you trying to do?"

"Andre?"

A flicker of confusion passed through Hancock's eyes. He looked around at the few men nearby with a questioning gaze, but they all shrugged and spread their hands, indicating they had no idea.

"This probably has nothing to do with me. Forget it! It doesn't matter now, William. I was planning to find you in a couple of days anyway, but since you came to me, we might as well settle it here. Get to work, guys. Beat him until he can only be carried out. Leah, find me a car and say hello to the campus police. We'll take him back to our base later. Don't you think it'll be fun to use this guy as wall decoration at the bar tonight? Of course, of course, I can promise Old York we won't cause any deaths."

A crowbar swung from the side and slammed heavily into William's waist, causing him to writhe in pain and collapse to the ground.

Hancock stepped on his face, a look of contempt in his eyes: "Surprised, aren't you? That your buddy Hancock would go this far? Then let merciful Hancock tell you: as of yesterday, the Hell Skulls are finished! Finished, you hear? They were stupid enough to mess with that artifact. Black K of the Hell Skulls pissed off the big shots. So from today, most of the Southside belongs to us Bloodfang. Got it, you little bastard? No one can save you now. Someone told me you've been secretly keeping accounts for Andy Jalen and his crew, huh? Pretty smart, teaching yourself accounting, ha? But what did you say to me back then?"

William's face changed slightly, but then he spat bloody foam and mumbled: "I just don't want to touch drugs. They never sell them on campus. Listen, you can do whatever you want to me, but don't mess with Andre, you hear? He's a Wiltonshire! If anything happens to him, you're finished, Hancock!"

"Wiltonshire? You mean that guy?"

Hancock sneered dismissively: "Would a Wiltonshire attend a school like this? Are you kidding me, William? Or do you take me for a jackass?"

He kicked William's head hard—a signal. The surrounding youths, faces cold, swung their crowbars and baseball bats, striking William's body fiercely.

But the beating didn't last long before someone hurried in from outside: "Hancock, there's someone outside. He's here for him."

Hancock's face showed a hint of annoyance, but the next moment, his anger seemed to be doused by a bucket of ice water, completely extinguished.

"It's one of Louise Lyndon's bodyguards. He's asking for William Jacques, and he wants him now."

…

"Has he been rescued? How are his injuries?"

Outside the gates of Lyndon Academy, beside a Rolls-Royce Ghost, Louise Lyndon sat inside the car, asking a burly middle-aged man in a black suit standing by the window.

"Not too bad, at least no broken bones. With normal medical treatment, it would take two to three months to fully recover. Miss, do you want him completely healed?"

"No need. Spend some money to get a mid-level holy healer. Just make sure he can compete in tomorrow's fighting tournament."

The blonde girl in the car shook her head slightly: "Leave the rest of the injuries as they are. Let it be a lesson. He could have kept himself clean."

After saying this, she rolled up the window, rubbed her forehead in distress, and looked troubled.

At that moment, beside Louise, a stunning black-haired girl shook her head: "Louise, you can't go on like this. If this continues, you'll have wrinkles before you're old. Unless you reach Legendary before thirty."

"I don't want this either."

Louise gave a bitter smile: "I thought it was just a school club, easy to handle. But none of the members are trouble-free; problems keep popping up one after another. Now I finally understand that my grandfather managing such a big company is really not easy. Even a school fighting club is this hard, let alone a company with thousands of employees."

With that, she took the black-haired girl's hand apologetically: "I'm sorry, Angela. I invited you to transfer to Lyndon Academy, and now we can't even get a spot in the spring team competition."

The girl named Angela blinked: "Why do you say that? Don't we still have five people advancing to the second round? And this William Jacques—you said he has great potential and you're confident you can get him to Level 5 in two months. If so, he still has a chance to come out of the loser's bracket."

"There's a chance, but probably only about three percent. I hope he doesn't run into too strong an opponent before the third round of the loser's bracket."

Louise sighed: "Among the five who advanced, the others have a shot at the third round, except for Andre Lee Wiltonshire—the one injured by Lina. He only got into the second round because his opponent's armor malfunctioned; he's practically a non-factor."

The black-haired girl gave an awkward smile, scratching her face nervously: "Andre, is he okay? He hasn't been to school for days. I'm a bit worried."

"He's probably fine. As far as I know, Hancock didn't do anything to him."

Louise shook her head: "Our people only found out that he left his residence on Tuesday, likely with a purpose. Don't dwell on it. I think even if something happened, it's not related to you, Angela."

Angela thought, how could she not care? But she knew she couldn't do anything now. After all, this was Atlanta, not Manhattan.

"I hope he returns safely. But are you really that pessimistic about this Andre? I remember he's a Level 3 magic swordsman? That still gives him a chance to make the third round."

"No chance. He'll be eliminated in the second round."

Louise's tone was decisive: "His next opponent is Wild Bear Bill Hardwick, a Level 5 berserker with axe mastery."