"Hit you? So what if I did? Kid, you've gone too far. You deserve a beating," Lin Kuang said calmly, as if discussing something mundane.
"Deserve a beating? Damn it! Who in Nanjing dares to hit me? You're fucking asking for death!" Meng Zhao said furiously.
"Asking for death? I'd be happy to oblige." With that, Lin Kuang struck again. Another backhanded slap sent Meng Zhao sprawling to the ground.
Meng Zhao's head was beaten until it was swollen like a pig's. Bloody foam frothed at his lips, and he was in too much pain to speak. He glared at Lin Kuang with pure venom, yet his eyes also held a trace of fear.
By now, the diners from upstairs had come out to watch. Some of them inevitably recognized Meng Zhao, who was a well-known figure in Nanjing. Seeing him get beaten, some of the spectators couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction. Many of them had been bullied by him but had never dared to speak out.
