Chapter 138: Dealing with the Criminals

The bald man’s eyes welled up with tears. He was certainly not crying because of the physical pain; even if the agony were enough to make him faint, a man of his sort would never weep. He was too "manly," too ashamed to let such a thing happen. Why, then, did the tears fall? Was it the humiliation of being brought to his knees by a mere student, of capsizing in a shallow ditch? Even he could not say.

And who else could possibly know?

As the entire bus sat in a state of stunned, silent shock, the pockmarked man among the three thugs suddenly spoke. He bowed repeatedly toward Zhang Pu, who remained seated and motionless. His voice, stripped of its former arrogance, was now filled with fawning subservience: "Master, we had eyes but failed to recognize a true expert. We don’t want the items anymore; we’ll leave right now..."

Before the more perceptive thug could finish, Zhang Pu interrupted: "You commit such evil, and you expect to walk away so easily? Is there anything so cheap in this world?"

The tone and content of Zhang Pu’s words no longer belonged to a student. In that instant, his aura seemed to revert entirely to that of Zhang Di, the Emperor of the Immortal Cultivation World.

Everyone on the bus stared at him in silence, waiting for his judgment.

The expressions of the bald man and his burly companion soured. Yet, as the passengers seemed to awaken from their stupor, hope and joy flickered across many of their faces. The three thugs had been truly vicious, and armed to boot. Everyone had been held hostage by their own fears—who among them didn't have a family? If a breadwinner were to fall, a family would surely crumble.

Usually, people choose to be timid, hoping that by enduring a little humiliation and keeping the bigger picture in mind, the storm will pass. They fail to realize that criminals thrive on this exact weakness—a tragic flaw in human nature that is exploited time and again.

But this time, the simple, kind-hearted people felt as if they had burned enough incense to finally encounter a Bodhisattva. They eagerly awaited to see how this "Bodhisattva" would punish the wicked. Many harbored a dark, common desire: the more miserable the villain's fate, the more satisfied they would feel. They hoped the "Bodhisattva" would cast the thugs into the eighteenth level of hell, never to be reincarnated.

"Master," the pockmarked man continued, though the bald man and the brute looked terrified, he remained eerily calm—a composure that suggested he was the true leader of the trio. "We three had eyes but failed to see you. Had we known you were on this bus, we wouldn't have dared to act, even if we were given a hundred lives. Please, show mercy. We won't report this, and we will not only return everything to the passengers but also surrender our own valuables as compensation."

He spoke with an air of profound sincerity, though some passengers thought to themselves that it was truly a feat for him to string so many words together.

Despite the pockmarked man’s humility, Zhang Pu remained unmoved. "Go? What is the worth of the scrap metal you carry? What if I decide to keep the hands you used to commit these crimes? You have been far too detestable in my presence today."

Zhang Pu emphasized his final words. The three thugs turned deathly pale—to have their hands severed would be a fate worse than death.

The thugs fell into despair, while the passengers found the spectacle increasingly thrilling. Many secretly hoped Zhang Pu would indeed break the thugs' hands, ensuring they could never do evil again.

The bald man and the brute seemed at a loss, but the resourceful pockmarked man refused to give up. He dared to hope that Zhang Pu was merely bluffing because they hadn't offered enough capital to move him. Did they lack the necessary leverage? He thought not.

"Master," the pockmarked man began again, "I know the pittance we carry is beneath you. But we are not common highwaymen. We..."

Many passengers turned their eyes toward him, sensing a sudden twist in the plot. Some grew anxious—what if he claimed to be the nephew of the Mayor of Qingwu? Even a high-level expert like this student would have to show some respect to the local authorities. As the saying goes, a dragon cannot overpower a local snake.

"Oh?" Zhang Pu, catching the scent of a "big name" being dropped, felt a flicker of interest. He was, in fact, somewhat expectant. The three thugs had been too weak to even warrant the movement of his pinky finger, and the farce of them beating themselves was boring. Why not see what kind of "mountains and seas" they would try to move?

"Speak," Zhang Pu gestured dismissively. He wondered if the backer was truly influential enough for the thug to treat it as his final trump card.

"We are members of the renowned San Tang Society in the Qingwu region," the pockmarked man declared. "To be honest, Master, I am the godson of the society's leader, Duan Jinhuan. Please, for the sake of the San Tang Society, spare us. Tell me where you are staying, and I will have my godfather bring a generous gift to apologize in person!"

The passengers, and even Zhang Pu, were impressed by the man's silver tongue.

*Too bad,* Zhang Pu thought, *I am not a real student, and I won't be fooled by such trifles.*

*San Tang Society? What kind of bird-brained outfit is that? I’ve never heard of it, and they claim to be renowned in Qingwu? This pockmarked fool is really gilding his own lily.* Zhang Pu almost blurted out an insult, but he caught himself—he had to maintain the persona of a student. He couldn't afford to be crude in front of everyone; he wouldn't tarnish the reputation of Modern High School.