Paralyzed, where's the car?

The headlights were so bright that the old man and Feng Jun were both forced to squint as the beams hit them.

The old man was the first to react; despite his failing eyesight, he shouted out immediately, "It's those little bastards!"

Feng Jun's reaction was not slow either, "Huh, is it that motorcycle gang?"

Like other second-tier cities, Zhengyang had its fair share of thrill-seeking motorcycle gangs. They rode high-powered, modified bikes, and every deep night, large groups would race on the outer ring road, often setting up gambling pools to increase the excitement.

It wasn't that these people were necessarily evil, but they were absolutely reckless in their conduct. Just a while ago, the police had broken up a racing group because they had been carrying scantily clad women on the back of their bikes during their races.

The women not only tested the riders' skills but also served as the stakes for the race: the winner took all.

That's right, the winner took all, and they did it in plain sight of everyone.

For the police, this was absolutely intolerable, and they were promptly charged with gathering a crowd for lewd behavior.

However, why would these energetic guys decide to come here?

A moment later, the old man sighed, "Are these little bastards thinking of coming to harass me?"

These guys were indeed here to cause trouble; immediately after, several ropes were thrown over, the ends tied with iron grappling hooks that latched firmly onto the iron gate.

Feng Jun also understood what the other party was trying to do, so he asked, "Tell me, aren't you going to call the police?"

"Calling the police is useless!" The old man cursed, his tone filled with deep helplessness. "They're just a bunch of brats, some not even eighteen yet, and their families have money to burn. They wouldn't even be locked up for a night before being released... If I really call the police, they'll just come back to make trouble every few days."

Hearing this explanation, Feng Jun dismissed the idea of helping to call the police. If the old man himself had given up, why should he play the hero?

In fact, the old man's stubborn refusal to flip the power switch had caused him great inconvenience, and he was no saint who returned evil with good.

So, he just asked with a smile, "You know these guys well?"

The old man snorted indignantly, "There are quite a few of these spoiled brats in our Xiao Wu Village."

Feng Jun understood now. Xiao Wu Village was a village that had urbanized early and was in a prime location, so the villagers there were quite wealthy.

After the iron hooks grabbed the gate, the roar of engines erupted again, and the motorcycles quickly sped away.

Immediately after, the ropes tied to the hooks pulled taut in an instant, yanking hard on the iron gate.

At this moment, it felt like returning to ancient times, as if nomadic tribes were using horse power to drag down a fence, attempting to break through the defenses.

To be honest, this behavior was just for show. The factory's iron gate was already old, and the wall anchoring it was loose; three or four young men pushing hard would have been enough to knock it over. Using motorcycles to pull it was more likely to damage the bikes.

However, wasn't the whole point of these brats riding motorcycles to show off?

The ropes pulled in unison, and the iron gate wobbled before crashing to the ground with a thunderous sound.

"Isn't this a bit too fragile?" Feng Jun was stunned; such a large iron gate could have at least put up a little resistance.

The motorcycle gang let out a cheer, turned their bikes around, and rode back in a group.

The brilliant lights shone recklessly into the factory, accompanied by the deafening roar of motors.

Clearly, these guys were bold enough to not be in a hurry to escape, and once they decided to run, it was unlikely anyone could catch them.

Two motorcycles cut their engines, and three men and one woman walked over.

The two men were carrying nunchucks, while the woman wore a tight black tank top and denim hot pants. A wide leather belt studded with shiny rivets hung around her waist, revealing two long, fair legs.

This was the typical look of a delinquent girl, and her makeup was so thick that even her own mother probably wouldn't recognize her.

The old man couldn't help but mutter, "If my daughter dared to dress like that, I'd hang her up and beat her!"

However, these four were here to cause trouble. A sturdy young man with a buzz cut stepped forward, his face full of menace and hostility, "Old man, did you turn off the streetlights because you wanted us to get into a car accident?"

The old man took two steps back, grabbed a shovel from the doorway, and sneered, "Come on, try making a move."

Just by looking at his unhesitating demeanor, one could tell he was serious. After all, he was someone who had lived through turbulent times; despite his age, he wasn't afraid of risking his life.

The four young people were taken aback. Nunchucks were much shorter than a shovel, and if they really got into a fight, damn... it might be a bit dangerous.

One of the young men shouted, "Where are the grappling hooks? Get this old geezer!"

Nunchucks couldn't beat a shovel, but the ropes of the grappling hooks were long and could be used for long-range attacks.

The old man knew that if his shovel got tangled by a hook, he would be finished, so he shouted, "Do you dare to damage public property? College student, hurry and call the police!"

He couldn't call the police before because there was no justification, but now that the gate had been pulled down, he had a reason.

The woman glared fiercely at Feng Jun, "Kid, this has nothing to do with you. Don't be ungrateful."

Feng Jun had originally been watching the show—neither side was a good person—but hearing this made him feel disgusted.

However, he couldn't be bothered to steal the spotlight, so he shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled out of the gate.

Seeing that he didn't react, the old man was so angry his eyebrows twitched, but he quickly accepted the reality: there were so many of them, and the college student was just a tenant; why should he expect him to get involved?

Still, he couldn't help but sigh to himself: compared to our generation, young people today really lack any backbone.

The buzz-cut man walked up with his nunchucks, ignoring the shovel and staring only at the old man, "I'll give you two choices. The first is to obediently flip the power switch. The second is that we beat you up first, and then force you to flip it."

The old man snorted coldly, "I am Sixth Master from Xiao Wu Village. You little brats... try touching your Sixth Master and see what happens."

Xiao Wu Village was a famous wealthy village, and the villagers were quite tight-knit. People generally didn't want to provoke a group that was both wealthy and united.

The buzz-cut man was stunned for a moment, then laughed, "Sixth Master? I've never heard of you. But Sixth Master... can you guarantee that you won't be walking alone at night in the future?"

I don't know how deep your connections are, and I might not hit you now, but don't complain if you get ambushed in the dark later!

The old man understood this threat all too well; motorcycle gangs were truly impossible to guard against. The motorcycle riders in Zhengyang were just racing, but among those in the southern cities, many were "hand-choppers."

That wasn't the kind of "hand-chopping" from shopping on Taotao Net, but rather snatching bags while riding; if the victim refused to let go, their hand might literally be chopped off.

Being targeted by such people was something he truly couldn't handle. At his age, he was a bit hard of hearing now, and his observation skills weren't what they used to be.

The old man let out a cold snort, "We have plenty of kids in Xiao Wu Village who play with bikes, too."

"Xiao Wu Village doesn't have any experts," the guy with the flat-top haircut commented casually.

However, he didn't want to actually provoke the people of Xiao Wu Village, especially since this old man seemed to be someone of note, so he spoke frankly, "Old man, this woman is my girl. Give me some face today, flip the switch back on, and I won't come back again."

Don't let the old man's explosive temper and lack of hesitation for a fight fool you; most people who came from that era were well-versed in the art of compromise.

He nodded slightly, "Wouldn't it have been better to just say that earlier? I can give you this face, but... whose family does this girl belong to?"

"Old man, don't be ungrateful!" the young girl cursed loudly.

"Damn it, stop spewing filth!" The old man flared up too, "If I had a daughter like you, I'd beat her to death!"

"Be your daughter? In your dreams," the young girl sneered.

"Alright," the flat-top finally spoke up, sounding impatient, "Are you two done yet? Keep arguing and I'm turning around and leaving!"

The young girl immediately went silent, and the old man muttered, "You ripped the gate off its hinges and you're still acting so arrogant..."

Muttering aside, the old man still walked to the back of the house, opened the electrical box, and flipped the switch.

With a dull thud, the area was instantly bathed in light. The streetlights at the factory entrance flickered on, illuminating the figures of the motorcycle gang on their six bikes.

Seeing their goal achieved, the four of them whistled and turned to run toward the gate, "Let's go!"

The infuriating thing about motorcycle gangs was exactly this: they came and went as they pleased, moving with swift and ghostly speed.

But the next moment, the flat-top stopped in his tracks, stunned, "Damn it... where the hell is my bike?"

Another young man also cried out, "What the... where is my bike?"

The four of them had gotten off two motorcycles, and their fellow riders were right there beside them. Yet, looking at it now, there were only six bikes, and each had a rider on it.

"This is fucking haunted," the flat-top looked left and right, "Did someone ride them away?"

They had turned off the engines when they got off, but they hadn't pulled the keys out, just to make a quick getaway easier.

"That's impossible," the rider next to him shook his head, "There are so many of us here."

The flat-top looked ahead and noticed a young man walking out with his head down, scrolling on his phone. He shouted, "Hey kid, you! Stop right there!"

"Why the hell are you barking!" Feng Jun shoved his phone into his pocket, turned his head, and cursed, "Are you a donkey?"

"Damn you, say that again?" the young girl shrieked, "Are you tired of living?"

"Come on then, I'm tired of living," Feng Jun laughed in anger, "Let's see which one of you can take my life!"

"Alright," the flat-top was actually quite rational. He waved his hand and said in a deep voice, "I don't have time to bicker with you. I'll just ask you one thing... have you seen my motorcycle?"

Motorcycle gangs were arrogant and acted without restraint, but they couldn't just go around killing people; that wouldn't make them a motorcycle gang, but a criminal syndicate. These young people had an excess of energy, but that didn't mean they lacked brains.

In fact, those who played this game and walked on the edge of the rules had intelligence above the average level. They knew very well that racing wasn't a big deal, but getting involved in organized crime through racing was a massive problem.

The flat-top spoke quite sincerely, "My bike is worth eight hundred thousand. If you can provide a lead that helps me find it, I'll give you one hundred thousand!"