Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

This is the starting point...

Ma Guoqiang and his wife exchanged a glance: "You said you're a reporter?"

"Huh? Can't reporters get angry?"

“No,” Ma Guoqiang shook his head: “...the reporters in front didn’t do that.”

"I'm a rather unique journalist... So, what do you think we should do?"

Ma Guoqiang opened his mouth again and again, but couldn't say anything.

His mouth was half-open, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down several times. The cigarette was between his fingers, and the ash finally broke off and fell to the floor at his feet.

The expedited response team? The expedited response team responded quickly, took statements, reviewed surveillance footage, and identified each person. That same night, they had pinpointed all the names and addresses of those scoundrels.

He squatted in the police station corridor all night. Before dawn, the police officer handling the case squatted down next to him, stuffed a bottle of mineral water into his hand, and said, "Don't worry, Lao Ma, the man won't get away."

Indeed, not a single one escaped.

The fast track has gone through all the legal procedures it could, and there's simply no way to proceed further.

The school? Despite Ma Guoqiang's fierce criticism, he actually knew what to do with those bastards during the compulsory education stage. Expel them? Was that even possible?

When the principal came to apologize in person, he sat on the sofa in his house, bent over, rubbing his hands on his knees, and kept repeating "I really have no choice" and "I'm really sorry".

The government? The government didn't slack off either. People from the education bureau came, people from the civil affairs bureau came, a school counselor was arranged, tutoring was provided, and they even got those bastards' parents to bring their little brats over to apologize…

But... I feel so suffocated inside...

He assaulted someone, filmed it, broke into their home to search for valuables, and even spat in their face...

“At least, at least…” After a long, long time, Ma Guoqiang finally managed to choke out, “Let my son fight back… You agree, right?” His voice suddenly became softer, so soft that it didn’t sound like it came from the same person who had just shouted.

"If you ask me, that's not right," reporter Zhang shook his head. "There's no such thing as a free lunch."

142 Good Role Models

At 10:10, Zhang Qiliang posted a message on his WeChat Moments.

Location: Xingnan Town, western suburbs; the accompanying picture is an orange cat at the entrance of an apartment building.

The cat's face is directly facing the camera, with the tip of its tail resting on its front paws, giving it a rather arrogant expression. The caption is just three words: "Pretty domineering."

Less than two minutes later, a series of special meowing horns came from downstairs.

At 10:20 a.m., people were standing at all the intersections in all directions downstairs in the residential area.

Dark blue express buses, light blue city management officers, orange reflective traffic police... and numerous plainclothes badges.

The cordon was set up and order was maintained—from Xingnan Town to the western suburbs, and from the western suburbs to Shuofang City, those on duty, those on standby, and those who had just finished their shifts and gone home but were called back all rushed into this old neighborhood that even taxis rarely came to.

By 10:30, the news had already spread online.

Location, photos, screenshots of WeChat Moments—I don't know how many times they've been forwarded.

The nearby streets were packed with people, their phones held up in dense crowds. Some stood on the back of electric bikes, others carried their children on their shoulders, and the young and agile completely filled the surrounding tree branches.

The students worked hard to clear a space in front of the building entrance and used a warning line to mark a semicircle with a radius of more than ten meters.

At 10:31, the first family arrived.

A dark gray sedan was parked outside the police line. The rear door opened first, and a middle-aged woman got out, holding the wrist of a boy who looked to be thirteen or fourteen years old.

The boy had his head down, his shoulders hunched, and his school uniform zipper pulled up to his chin. His face was expressionless, but his steps were stiff, as if he were stepping on landmines with every step.

Led by the fast-track team, the middle-aged woman walked through the narrow passage cleared by the crowd, into the cordon, and stood before Zhang Qiliang and Xiao Ze's family.

"Big sister, big brother," the woman said as she reached Xiaoze's mother, releasing the child's wrist. "I brought this little beast with me. I haven't been able to eat or sleep these past few days... I'm not fit to be a mother. I haven't raised him well. I'm so sorry to your family."

She bent down and bowed deeply to Liu Xiulan and Ma Guoqiang, her hair slipping down from behind her ears and obscuring her face.

As she straightened up, the woman's eyes reddened. She pushed the boy and said, "Kneel down and apologize to your uncle and aunt."

The boy bent his knees, knelt down with his head down, and mumbled "I'm sorry."

Ma Guoqiang stood to the side, arms crossed, lips pursed into a thin line, his gaze sweeping over the woman's face before settling on the crowd in the distance, as if he hadn't seen the two of them at all.

Liu Xiulan glanced at them, pulled Xiao Ze closer to her, and after several seconds, she snorted through her nose.

The woman's face twitched, and she bowed again.

Then, the woman turned around and faced Zhang Qiliang.

“Ming-ge,” her voice trembled slightly this time, “I haven’t been communicating with my child enough and have neglected to discipline him… I’ve raised such a morally corrupt child, which has had a particularly serious impact on social values. I’m so ashamed to face anyone. Please forgive me and give us a chance to make amends.”

After she finished speaking, she also bowed to Zhang Qiliang.

Zhang Qiliang didn't even glance at her.

He was standing at the edge of the cordon, about seven or eight steps away from the entrance to Xiaoze's apartment building.

A few steps away, the owner of a sesame seed cake shop, a tall, thin man in his early fifties, had just mustered up the courage to squeeze to the front of the cordon and handed over a stack of steaming hot sesame seed cakes from under the line: "Brother Ming, they're fresh out of the oven! Please try them... and give me your feedback!"

Zhang Qiliang actually took one, took a few bites, flipped it over to look at the filling, and said, "It's a bit greasy, not very tasty."

A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd, and camera shutters clicked incessantly.

"You're finished, Lao Sun!" "Boss Sun, you've finally met your match!" "You tried to steal a chicken but lost the rice instead!"

The owner didn't seem to care. "That's because I put in too much good oil! We're all old neighbors, everyone knows it's a bit greasy. Ming-ge, tell me, is my pancake clean or not?"

“Hmm, it’s really clean,” Zhang Qiliang nodded, stuffed the last bite of the sesame seed cake into his mouth, and after chewing it, slowly added, “It’s just… there’s not even a single chili pepper, it’s really not tasty.”

Mr. Sun chuckled and took the empty paper bag, turning to walk into the crowd. Halfway there, a familiar old neighbor grabbed his arm: "Old Sun, you're something else! You dare to feed Brother Ming?" Mr. Sun shoved the paper bag into the man's arms: "Get lost! Didn't you hear Brother Ming say it's clean? I'm raising the price by 50 cents tomorrow!"

The crowd burst into laughter again.

Zhang Qiliang withdrew his gaze, and the smile on his face quickly faded, replaced by calm that disappeared.

Two fast-moving officers quickly stepped forward and led the woman, who was still bent over and at a loss, and the little perpetrator she was holding a few steps away.

When the woman was helped up, she glanced back, her mouth open as if she wanted to say something, but the fast-paced man gently stopped her.

Two minutes later, another family arrived.

This family isn't very good at handling social situations.

Two elderly people, each holding a child's hand, were led in by the fast-paced class and walked up to Xiao Ze's family.

The old man was expressionless, staring straight ahead with no emotion on his face.

The old lady walked up to Xiao Ze's family, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, she glanced at Liu Xiulan, then quickly lowered her head, uttering a muffled syllable, but ultimately couldn't say anything.

The perpetrator in this case was even younger, looking about twelve or thirteen years old. He stood between two elderly people, his weight on one leg, while the other foot rubbed against the ground.

He glanced up at Xiaoze, a very brief glance, so brief it barely counted as a "look"—it swept over, then back, landing on the ground beside him.

After a while, he glanced at Zhang Qiliang, his lips slightly downturned, his chin raised, his hands in his school uniform pockets, his shoulders shrugged, and then fell back down.

Zhang Qiliang chuckled softly.

The third family is also somewhat special.

Before the people arrived, their voices came first—a series of hurried footsteps came from outside the crowd, mixed with a man's heavy breathing and a woman's hushed but barely suppressed urging.

The crowd parted to the sides, and a middle-aged couple practically squeezed in.

The man was wearing a faded gray short-sleeved shirt with the top two buttons undone. His face was covered in sweat, and the veins on his temples were throbbing.

The woman followed behind him, a few strands of her hair falling loose and sticking to her cheeks. She didn't bother to fix them. As soon as she came in, she saw Xiaoze. Her lips began to tremble, and before she could even speak, tears started falling.

But the most attention-grabbing was the son who lagged behind.

He walked at the very back, his steps unsteady, his left leg hesitant to put weight on, his knee bending before each step.

Despite the sweltering heat, he was dressed in a full-length school uniform with long sleeves and trousers, the zipper pulled up to his chin and the cuffs neatly buttoned.

His face was swollen, with a bluish bulge on his left cheek, squeezing his left eye into a slit.

"Big sister, big brother," the man walked up to Ma Guoqiang, rubbing his hands on his pants, unsure where to put them. "I... I'm not good with words. Anyway... I'm sorry, really sorry. Like I said... I didn't raise my son well. He hit your child, I'll compensate you however I have to, however I have to."

The woman walked up to Liu Xiulan and burst into tears.

She gripped Liu Xiulan's hands tightly with both of hers, tears dripping onto the back of her hands. She could barely speak, "Sister... I... I haven't dared to go out these past few days. Every time I close my eyes, I see your son in the corner... How could my little bastard do such a thing? I really... I really don't know how to make it up to you... You tell me how to make it up to you, I'll do it... just tell me..."

She cried so hard she couldn't continue. She let go of one hand to wipe her tears, but still held onto Liu Xiulan tightly with the other.

The man stood there for a few seconds, then suddenly remembered something, turned around abruptly, walked up to his son, grabbed him by the collar, and kicked him in the back of the leg.

The child already had a limp, and this sudden movement caused him to stumble forward and fall to the ground. His school uniform trousers were pulled up halfway, revealing a series of blue and purple bruises on his calves, some of which had turned dark yellow and others were still deep purple.

"You little beast!" the man's voice boomed, "Apologize to Xiaoze right now!"

The child rolled on the ground, ignoring the pain, and even forgetting to get up, he immediately lay down and began to bow, his face covered in snot and tears: "I'm sorry, Xiaoze! I'm sorry! I know I was wrong! I'll never do it again!"

"Wow, that's pretty brutal," someone in the crowd whispered.

"It's not a newly made one, is it?" someone said sarcastically.

“No, that’s not it,” a neighbor who knew the situation said. “I was there the night he apologized, and his face was swollen from being slapped by his dad.”

"These are all purple marks on my body... It must have been from a few days ago. Fresh injections leave red marks, but these purple marks have been there for at least several days," someone else said.

Liu Xiulan didn't have time to listen to any of this.

As soon as the child fell, she rushed over, squatted down, and helped the child up from the ground, supporting his elbow with one hand and carefully supporting his knee with the other.

“It’s just a child being naughty, we already talked about it last time… Why are you two making such a fuss…” She turned her head and glared at the man who was still panting heavily, “Oh, Xiao Fang, don’t be afraid, don’t cry… Be good and don’t cry…”

She looked down at the bruises showing under the child's pants, her voice trembling with anxiety and anger, "Oh dear, how could you be so cruel... tsk... you... this is really... this is really..."

Ma Guoqiang stood to the side, stunned for a while, then walked over, bent down, and reached out his rough hands to brush the dust off the child's body. His movements were very gentle, as if he were afraid of touching the bruises.

After he finished, he straightened up, turned around and glared at the man, but his voice was much lower than usual: "If a child is disobedient... just educate him properly. How can beating him set a good example?"

143 Small Animal Protection Law

Inspired by this, most of the families that arrived later started working on the project on the way.

A father grabbed his son by the back of the neck and slapped him as he walked, causing the child to stumble forward.

An old man grabbed the little brat by the hair, cursing and pinching him all the way, making the child cry out for his parents.

The families who had already arrived realized what was happening and took turns slapping the child—some swung their arms wide and slapped the child's back with a dull thud that could be heard from more than ten steps away; others raised their hands high and gently brought them down, patting the child's shoulder without even creating a crease in the child's clothes, clearly showing they were reluctant to do it.

The boy the two elderly people brought was still standing there. The old man didn't touch him, and neither did the old woman. They just tightened their grip on his wrist.

Zhang Qiliang's mind wanders to other worlds.

Cyberspace:

“When I was in fourth grade, I was cornered in the toilet by sixth graders who wanted five yuan. I didn’t have any, so they poked me with a mop. The mop was wet, just brought out of the washroom, and it was cold and smelly when it was poked into my chest. I told the teacher, and the teacher said it takes two to tango.”

“I didn’t wear any new sneakers during my three years of junior high. If I bought them, they would be borrowed and never returned. Once, my mom bought me a pair of Li-Ning sneakers when she came back from working in another city. I hid them under my bed and wore my old ones every day when I went out, only taking them out to look at them when I got home. Later, they found out and threw the shoes into the stinky ditch behind the school in front of me. I jumped in to retrieve them, and they laughed on the bank. I was thirteen years old that year. I’m thirty-five this year.”

"My right middle finger is still crooked. In my third year of junior high, some of my friends blocked me at the school gate and asked me for money. I said I didn't have any, so they started to break my fingers. They broke them one by one. It hurt so much that I knelt on the ground and called them 'Dad.' But it didn't help. They only left after they finished breaking them. When I got home, I told my dad that I had fallen and he slapped me, saying that I was a troublemaker. I didn't go to the hospital for that finger. It healed on its own, but it was crooked."

"In the 90s, the local thugs lined up at the school gate to collect money. Note that it was a line. Everyone who walked to the school gate had their pockets searched. If they had a dollar, they had to pay a dollar; if they had fifty cents, they had to pay fifty cents. If they didn't pay, they would be beaten. There was a kid whose family was poor. His mother brought him a steamed bun for lunch every day. The thugs crushed the steamed bun and forced him to eat it. He ate it because he would be beaten if he didn't."

“Back then, there were no cell phones, no surveillance cameras, so if someone hit you, they just hit you. You didn’t even have any evidence. If you told the teacher, the teacher would say, ‘Why did he hit you instead of others?’ If you told your parents, they would come to the school and make a scene. After that, the thugs would wait for you at the school gate, saying that you had told on them, and they would hit you even harder. So you stopped saying anything.”

“Have you noticed that the victims remember these things for a lifetime, but the perpetrators never remember them? If you ask them who they robbed at the school gate back then, they look blank and say, ‘Did I? I don’t remember.’ Of course they don’t remember. It’s not them who is in pain.”

"That's the most terrifying thing—this kind of evil is innate, the kind that hasn't been taught. How bad can a child be? Bad enough that you'll still want to cry when you're forty."

“This is not bullying at all,” one highly-rated comment said. “Slapping, kicking in the stomach, breaking fingers, forcing someone to kneel, filming it—that’s called intentional injury, illegal detention, insult, and burglary. In an adult context, that’s a crime. You can’t call a crime bullying just because the perpetrator is only twelve years old.”

About fifteen minutes later, everyone had arrived.

Nine families, nine perpetrators, plus parents and onlookers from the neighborhood, the area inside and outside the police cordon was packed with people.

The students in the fast-paced class stood at the edge of the circle, their uniforms soaked with sweat, but they didn't bother to wipe it off.

Zhang Qiliang strolled back from the entrance of the pancake shop and walked up to Xiaoze's parents. "Are you satisfied now?"

Liu Xiulan stood to the side without saying a word.

Ma Guoqiang looked at the children: some had swollen faces, some had red eyes from crying, and some huddled behind their parents, too afraid to look up.

Whether it was an act or genuine feelings, they've already been attacked to some extent.

Ma Guoqiang opened his mouth, but had nothing to say, so he nodded slightly.

“Okay,” Zhang Qiliang said, “then you’re done here. Take Xiaoze back to rest.”

The three of them left.

Okay, the three of them pushed open the unit door, rushed back to the room, and immediately ran to the window and pulled back the curtains.