His forehead grew red. His forehead swelled up. The desk began to crack.
BANG! BANG! BANG! The rhythmic impacts echoed relentlessly through the Grade 12, Class 7 classroom.
The entire class was dead silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. All the students seemed frozen, staring blankly as Qin Fan grabbed Wang Zijun by the hair and repeatedly smashed his head against the desk.
Faced with Qin Fan's demonic frenzy, which of these pampered young masters from influential families had the guts to intervene? They bullied the weak and feared the strong—a principle that applies to anyone, anywhere, at any level. It is simply human nature.
"Qin Fan, you're going to die! You will die!"
Whatever confidence Wang Zijun had managed to build was rapidly crumbling under Qin Fan's frenzied assault. Having never endured such torment, the agony in his forehead brought him to the verge of tears.
