Zhao Dapao's face instantly darkened. *Damn it, which son of a bitch is this, actually tearing down my front gate!*
He shoved the young girl aside, pulled a mountain-clearing machete out from under the quilt, threw on his clothes and shoes, and strode outside.
His twenty-odd lackeys grabbed whatever weapons they had on hand—iron rods, pickaxe handles, not a single one with a blade. They had no choice; they didn't dare use that kind of thing. Not only were schools strictly against it, but if their parents found out, they'd get beaten with a belt.
Chapter 288