For people living ordinary lives, the most violent scenes they could imagine were no more than severed limbs and spraying blood.
Of course, that was violent and brutal, but it lacked detail—more specific detail.
Legs were kicked broken, arms were smashed, jagged bone ends pierced through muscle and flesh. Red blood, white bone, and murky flesh assaulted people's eyes and tested the limits of their endurance.
Blood congealed on the ground as people wailed in agony. Teeth littered the floor, and a stinking reek spread through the air. Quite a few of the students watching had gone deathly pale, their stomachs churning and their throats bobbing. Some simply bent over and vomited their guts out...
Even so, very few people left. More stayed to watch the spectacle.
Besides those sprawled on the ground, there were also school administrators and teachers in the courtyard. The old principal, bald on top but stubbornly keeping the hair around the sides long enough to comb over his scalp, stood there in thick black-rimmed glasses, looking half-dead as he lectured Wang Yan.
It was not that the old principal was particularly brave. He had simply realized that Wang Yan was not someone who let his emotions take over and disregarded everything else. He was someone who could be reasoned with and communicated with. That was the impression the earlier farce outside the principal's office had given him.
After the fight back then, the principal had earnestly tried to reason with Wang Yan. Naturally, Wang Yan had refuted him. Wang Yan's logic was simple: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. If you cursed at me, I'd curse you harder. If you hit me, I'd hit you harder.
Other than that, no matter what the old principal said, Wang Yan merely smiled, nodded,