Ryan had been working part-ti and had built up a solid, muscular fra, so he managed to dodge the blow—albeit his shoulder still took a hit.
"Damn it, you dead simp!"
Henry, acting like a madman, swung a fist and followed it up with a wild kick.
"Fuck your mom!"
Even a re clay figure can have a temper, and Ryan—whose subservience was solely because of Tina—would not yield to such inexplicable blows.
In one swift motion, he grabbed Henry’s leg and punched him squarely in the nose.
There was a resounding smack; apparently, Henry hadn’t expected Ryan to fight back. The blow sent Henry reeling in pain, with blood spurting from his nose and his temper instantly ignited.
"Ding... To redeem (skill) for combat specialization, 5 attribute points are required."
"Ding… Redemption failed."
The system’s cold, chanical voice echoed in Ryan’s mind. In an instant, he took another punch. Though he kicked back in response, he wasted no ti in making a decision.
"System, allocate the remaining 2 attribute points entirely to my physical strength."
"Ding… Addition complete.
physical strength: 10.7."
It was unclear whether the surge of adrenaline or the boost from the added stamina was responsible, but not only did Ryan’s body suddenly stop feeling the pain, it also seed to harden.
His coordination instantly soared to its peak, as if he had been reborn with an endless supply of strength. Blocking Henry’s punches beca easier, and even Henry’s frenzied, almost canine movents appeared to slow down.
"Damn it, you poor bastard—you dare fight back…" Henry roared, and after taking several more hits, he was utterly deranged.
"Fuck your mom, if you wanna fight, I’ve never been afraid!"
Ryan’s face contorted with anger as he charged forward against Henry’s onslaught. The two quickly erupted into a brawl, and it was clear that Ryan had the upper hand; Henry was being battered beyond recognition.
Security soon arrived and separated the two, dragging each toward the infirmary while simultaneously contacting their respective advisors.
Panting heavily, Teacher Yasmin rushed over.
Dressed in a very conservative and prim outfit, she nonetheless couldn’t help but draw attention with the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as she panted.
"Are you alright?!" she demanded as she imdiately began anxiously checking Ryan’s injuries.
Bare-chested, his well-built upper body displaying only a few bruises that were nothing serious, Ryan grinned and said, "Teacher Yasmin, I’m fine—though I’ll have to trouble you again this ti."
Shortly thereafter, the sports departnt advisor arrived—a dark, portly man—who politely greeted them, his eyes naturally drifting over Teacher Yasmin’s chest.
He was taken aback upon seeing Henry’s condition; the fighter looked battered, his face bruised and swollen like that of a pig, with cracked lips constantly oozing blood and spit.
The school nurse shook her head and said, "Take him to the campus hospital to get checked out; here we can only do so basic bandaging, and we need to assess the extent of his concussion as well."
The brawl at the entrance of the girls’ dorm had beco a sensational incident, but any further proceedings would have to wait until Henry received proper treatnt.
After the simple bandaging, on the way back to the dorm, Lyla wept bitterly, "I’m sorry, Teacher Yasmin, I’m sorry, Brother Ryan. It’s all my fault—if Henry hadn’t been so insistent on getting involved with , I wouldn’t have co up with that lousy idea. I never imagined it would turn out like this."
Teacher Yasmin couldn’t help but notice Lyla clinging onto Ryan’s arm. A true little beauty indeed—the two of them together could easily be described as a match made in heaven.
However, that scoundrel’s act of feigning poverty at school ant that those gold-digging girls wouldn’t be interested in him; he was probably just a good friend.
Without further ado, Teacher Yasmin escorted them back to the dorm and instructed, "Rest well—I’m off to see our departnt head. We can’t let ourselves be taken advantage of."
University counselors might vary in quality, but one common fault was that they all tended to shelter their own students.
Much like military officers—teasing and ssing with you on a daily basis, yet when dealing with outsiders, they were the epito of double standards.
Anyway, having won the fight against the sports departnt crew was a matter of pride in future discussions, Ryan could even throw a few jabs at them.
Lyla, crying bitterly, escorted Ryan back to the dorm while Weston and Jacob also returned.
"Damn it, Third, you’re not entirely to bla," Weston remarked.
"Exactly—damn it, we arrived too late. Otherwise, we’d have given that bastard a good beating together," Jacob added, hurrying over to anxiously inspect Ryan.
After all, they’d seen Henry and the others from the sports departnt—tall and burly as they were, even though Ryan wasn’t lacking in size, he was undoubtedly outmatched.
Ryan cheerfully reassured them, "Big brother, second brother, I’m fine—damn it, I was just hungry. Otherwise, you all would have kept beating that kid’s pig head into a train engine."
Ryan’s hearty laugh did little to quell the ensuing chatter. It wasn’t long before the incident hit the campus internet’s trending list, with an especially outlandish headline:
"The Poor Man’s Shield Becos the Fuse; the Infatuated Simp Loses His First Kiss, and the Innocent…"
Ryan broke into a cold sweat as he read it, thinking, "Big brother, are you with the Hong Kong dia? You sure know how to craft a headline."
Jacob burst into laughter and said, "Alright, Third, now that you’re trending, you’re practically a campus celebrity."
"You’re almost turning into the most conspicuous loser at Griffith," Weston added, laughing along from the side.
A commotion erupted in the corridor outside, and soon Yana—dressed in denim shorts that showcased her shapely, beautiful butt and a plain shirt that exuded youthful allure—rushed in with a panicked expression.
She closed the door behind her and hurried over, paying no heed to the onlookers who were watching Ryan’s facial injuries with concern.
Imdiately, she yanked open Ryan’s shirt, feeling him up, and anxiously inquired, "You fought with Henry, didn’t you? Where are your injuries? The school nurse isn’t reliable—let’s go to the hospital for a proper check-up."
Lyla, a bit envious yet in agreent, chid in, "Yeah, it’s better to get it checked out for peace of mind."
Ryan sheepishly grinned and replied, "I’m fine, I’m tough-skinned and built like brick. I won the fight, so why would I need to go to a hospital?"
Unexpectedly, Yana’s gaze turned icy, and with a sudden spin, she slapped soone sharply.
There ca a particularly crisp smack, and Lyla’s head jerked aside; her beautiful hair instantly went wild as she subconsciously covered her face.
"Y–you…" Lyla began, intending to retort, but one look at Yana’s cold, steely eyes made her back off instantly.
Yana knew exactly what Lyla intended—she wanted to make an official announcent in front of everyone. Even if Tina were unhappy, it would at least provide an explanation.
Most importantly, Yana wouldn’t have to worry about being seen as a "green tea bitch" in Brother Ryan’s eyes, and she could openly compete with Tina.
But for things to spiral into such a public uproar with Ryan getting injured in a fight was sothing Yana hadn’t anticipated, and it was ultimately her own fault.
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