Chapter 27: Teacher Jiang, What Kind of Person Are You Really?

"Professor Jiang, I was just looking for a chance to talk to you. My parents said they'd like to invite you to our home this weekend!" Tong Yi beamed at Jiang An, and when she noticed his expressionless face, she added, "It's about that thing I mentioned before. Please, I'm begging you. If you don't agree, I'll have to resort to acting cute."

"Alright, I'll come," Jiang An replied.

"Hooray!" Tong Yi flashed a victory sign, but before she could continue, a series of shocked cries erupted behind her. She turned to see a car speeding toward them, its driver’s face twisted with madness.

"So being confessed to carries such risk—my life might pay the price, and I’ve dragged Professor Jiang into this..." Tong Yi’s pupils contracted, her heart seemed to stop, and only this thought flashed through her mind before she was suddenly airborne.

"Oh my God, did I just see that!"

Bang!

With a thunderous crash, the surrounding students froze, unable to believe their eyes. Just as the Bentley was about to hit the two, they soared up—not simply jumped, but shot skyward from their spot, then gently descended amidst falling leaves like immortals descending to earth. The beauty of the scene was unforgettable.

Tong Yi finally realized what had happened. In that split second between life and death, a strong arm had wrapped around her, and she had flown—yes, flown! The feeling was ethereal, the embrace warm and safe, the scent fresh and natural. She couldn't help but be captivated, gazing at Jiang An’s chiseled profile, utterly entranced.

"Be more careful next time. Go to class," Jiang An released her and spoke calmly. Glancing aside, he saw the Bentley crashed into a tree, its front crushed, the driver unconscious from the airbags.

Tong Yi’s gaze shifted, awakening her from her daze. A charming blush colored her jade-like face, making her as adorable as the evening clouds. She shyly lowered her head but couldn’t resist stealing another glance at Professor Jiang, her ears filled with the sound of her own heartbeat.

"This feeling is so strange—am I falling for him? Professor Jiang, just what kind of person are you?"

Given Jiang An’s abilities, anyone trying to run him down would regret ever coming into this world. But in front of so many witnesses, he’d already revealed a bit of his skill; now wasn't the time to deal directly with the culprit, and he wasn’t interested in explaining. He simply walked away—someone else would handle the aftermath; campus security was already approaching from afar.

"Tong, are you alright?"

"Yanyan, are you hurt?"

Her close friends hurried over, fussing anxiously.

"I'm fine!" Tong Yi withdrew her gaze from Jiang An's retreating figure, forcing a smile.

"It’s terrifying. Failed confession turned to violence. Why didn’t that bastard die sooner?"

"The police are here; let them arrest him. He should get ten years at least!"

"That’s attempted murder, even if it failed! By the way, does Professor Jiang know martial arts? How could he hold you and jump so high?"

"What did it feel like?" The girls’ gossiping instincts were in full force.

"I’m not telling you!" Tong Yi suppressed her racing heart, grinning, then frowned. "By the way, that guy seems to be from the Sun family. I hear they’re powerful—this might all get swept under the rug."

"No way! We all saw him try to kill you!"

"Ah, that’s how the world works. Power and influence can turn black into white."

As they spoke, the campus security arrived, quickly gathering statements about the deliberate hit-and-run. Tong Yi and her friends were detained for questioning—it looked like they wouldn’t make it to class.

Meanwhile, Jiang An walked briskly to the classroom. As he pushed open the door, the thunderous clamor stopped. With a sweep of his gaze, he found the room packed with students—twice as many as last time, filling every inch: sitting, standing, squatting, making full use of the space.

At least half weren’t enrolled in the course. The previous class must have been so astonishing that rumors had spread, drawing a crowd eager for excitement.

Jiang An wasn’t inclined to drive them out. He cleared his throat and spoke loudly, "I didn’t expect so many to attend my class. Does anyone remember my rules?"

"First, no chitchat during class. Second, no electronic devices!" A tall male student shot up and declared, the same challenger from last session, now thoroughly convinced.

"Very good. New students, take note—don’t break my rules, or the teacher gets angry and the consequences are serious," Jiang An joked, rare for him.

The students nodded eagerly, eyes full of anticipation. What would today’s lesson be?

But they were destined for a bit of disappointment. Last time had been engineered to spark interest, hence the entertaining approach; but real knowledge isn’t built on air—without a solid foundation, nothing stands.

"Today, we’ll learn the basics. Perhaps the previous teacher covered this, but my perspective is different. Let’s look at the distribution of acupoints in the human body."

Jiang An’s words dampened the excitement—like watching a chemistry experiment was fun, but learning the dry theory was less appealing.

Yet soon everyone’s eyes lit up. Jiang An picked up a piece of chalk and, with remarkable speed, drew a human figure on the blackboard, marking the acupoints with names and positions in a fluid, uninterrupted motion. The diagram was so precise it seemed projected by machine. His skill alone was extraordinary.

But just as Jiang An finished marking half the acupoints, the director of studies, Deng Wenhua, suddenly entered and beckoned, "Professor Jiang, may I speak with you outside?"

"Class, review the marked acupoints on the board; memorize them. They’re also in your textbooks," Jiang An dusted off his hands and, after giving instructions, followed Deng Wenhua out.

Deng Wenhua’s expression was troubled, hesitant as he spoke, "I heard a student deliberately tried to run someone over just now. You were one of the victims?"

"That’s correct," Jiang An replied.

"I’m glad you’re alright, Professor Jiang. However, I must tell you—the student who drove the car is surnamed Sun."

"What’s your point?"

"The Sun family is quite influential. Have you heard of the seven prominent families of Lincheng? This Sun belongs to that Sun clan—very powerful."

"Director, just say what you mean."

"Sigh, I’ll be blunt. The Sun family just called, hoping to settle this privately. They’ll offer you substantial compensation; pretend nothing happened," Deng Wenhua whispered. "Since you weren’t harmed, it’s worth considering. A few million, I assure you."

"Heh, pretend it never happened? Such arrogance," Jiang An smirked coldly. Did they not know he’d just crushed the Liu family?

"When under someone’s roof, you must bow your head. Since there’s no real harm, what do you think?" Deng Wenhua urged.

"Let the Sun family speak to me directly," Jiang An replied, expressionless. "That’s all, Director. I have a class to teach—you’re busy."

With that, he turned and headed back to the classroom, giving Deng Wenhua no chance to say more.

"Sigh, youth and pride will bring trouble. I’ve passed on the message; let them resolve their own conflict," Deng Wenhua shook his head and left.

Jiang An didn’t give the matter another thought. He finished his class, then left campus, intending to visit the antique street by the cultural center. But as he exited the gates, a cold-eyed, muscular man in black blocked his path, speaking in a flat voice, "Someone wants to see you. Please come with me."

"Alright, lead the way," Jiang An replied compliantly, showing no resistance.

They walked one after the other to a deserted corner, where a black luxury car waited. Another man in black stood motionless by the door. As Jiang An approached, he opened the door.

Thud!

A black bag was tossed out first. Inside the car, a slick-haired, pampered man was absorbed in manicuring his nails. When Jiang An came near, he glanced up and spoke slowly, "There’s five million in the bag. Take it, and forget about my brother’s little incident. If you know what’s good for you."

"Hmm, is that all?" Jiang An crossed his arms and smiled.

The man’s face darkened. "You’re a frog at the bottom of the well, ignorant of the heights. You don’t understand my power. One word from me and you’ll lose everything. I’m patient, so I’ll give you another chance—take the money and walk away, or face unpredictable consequences."

"Your mouth sure runs on," Jiang An replied, looking at him as if he were a fool.

A shadow flickered in the man’s eyes. He stopped trimming his nails, cocked his head, and sneered, "You’ve made me angry. Here’s how I’ll vent—let’s start by chopping off one of your fingers."

His words were an order. Immediately, two muscle-bound men in black moved to block Jiang An’s path. The one who’d brought him raised a massive fist to strike Jiang An’s face—knock him out for easier finger-chopping.

Jiang An extended his right hand and caught the fist, squeezing lightly. Instantly, the sound of bone cracking filled the air; the fist seemed to crumble like cotton in his grasp, white bone piercing through flesh, gruesome to behold.

The man dropped to the ground in agony, gritting his teeth to avoid screaming. His companion, well-trained, acted instantly—reaching for his holster and drawing a black pistol, aiming at Jiang An.

Jiang An didn’t even look. With a casual movement, his left hand caught the gun between two fingers, twisted, and the force sent the gunman tumbling into the luxury car, losing balance completely. His trigger finger was broken, dangling grotesquely over his hand, the web of his thumb split open at least five centimeters.

The gun itself spun away in a graceful arc, landing right on the face of another black-clad man who had just reached for his own weapon. He was knocked out cold.

They could count themselves lucky Jiang An wasn’t a cruel man by nature.

All this happened in the blink of an eye—one or two seconds from first move to both attackers down. The slick-haired man in the car hadn’t even reacted before a large hand reached in, grabbed his collar, and yanked him out.

"What are you doing? I warn you—" he shrieked, trying to threaten, but Jiang An flicked his fingers against both his kneecaps, then tossed him to the ground.

No doubt, his kneecaps were shattered. The slick-haired man passed out from the pain.

"You wanted a finger from me. I’ll take your legs instead—that’s fair," Jiang An remarked.

Having finished, he walked away leisurely, heading straight for his intended destination.