Chapter 631
Chapter 631: 630 Murderous Aura Overflows Chapter 631: 630 Murderous Aura Overflows “Bastard!”
“Haha, bastard!
Your father was a **, and your mother was a ***’s **, a match made in heaven, and that’s how you, this ***’s bastard, were born!”
“Disgrace!
You are a disgrace!”
“Go back to your **!
This glorious land does not welcome you!
**, ****!”
The foul language was unbearable to the ear.
Phrase after phrase, ferocious and bloody, filthy and ugly.
In the football field, being the away team was always like this, but tonight it was worse and more rampant than ever.
Those twisted faces looked like devils, and what was worst, those words not only attacked the players but also targeted innocent family members—
They should not have involved the player’s families, should not have targeted players’ mothers and siblings.
Caught in emotions of guilt and frustration, Mahomes had no time to worry about these, but now, those shrill and piercing voices broke through the defense and burrowed into his ears, throwing his boiling emotions into the roaring flames, instantly consuming all his rationality.
Damn it!
Mahomes clenched his fists, turned around abruptly, and his youthful face revealed a sharp expression.
But he lost his direction among the throng of ferocious faces blurring into one—
Not just one or two, but hundreds, thousands, merged into one vast, surging, bloody wave.
Just then, a figure burst past Mahomes and left behind the number twenty-three, turning into a bolt of lightning charging head-on.
Furious and murderous.
Clark was startled by the sight of Li Wei coming head-on.
He had never seen Li Wei like this before.
The Li Wei he knew was always calm and composed, even on the brink, he seemed effortlessly at ease, as if nothing could disturb his peace.
But now, Li Wei exploded with a murderous aura, like flames, a single glance making Clark feel frozen and numb, paralyzed on the spot, frantically breaking eye contact.
Burns took a step forward, “Li Wei!”
However.
This time Burns couldn’t stop Li Wei either.
A step forward, like a demon unleashed, moving faster and fiercer, fearlessly staring down the clawing blue wave ahead.
Suddenly, Li Wei threw his helmet to the ground, water bottles, helmet, towels, bench all exploded apart, scattering everywhere, frightening the sneering fans in front, who didn’t have time to react.
Then they realized that the devil in their pupils was unstoppable, coming straight at them, knees buckled, shoulders dropped, almost feeling their bladders losing control.
Li Wei, storming forward—
With his hands braced against the stadium stands, with a slight effort, he was already standing towering over the railing, overlooking the weak, contemptible cowards below, his large, strong figure casting a shadow over everyone, like Lucifer spreading his wings.
One by one, they trembled and huddled together: weak, contemptible, helpless.
This moment became a classic at Gillette Stadium.
The white number twenty-three faced the storm, standing alone against hundreds, surrounded in the tumultuous blue waves, but his towering, imposing stature showed no fear, single-handedly suppressing the vast, relentless waves.
Crowded and swarming, the blue wave continued surging toward that one figure, but all bowed their proud heads, submitting under the feet of the white number twenty-three.
In an instant, it was forever immortalized.
Of course, not all.
Still, a few people stood up, fists clenched, spittle flying, continuously waving their fists, nonstop cursing and swearing.
Then, they caught Li Wei’s attention.
Li Wei glared fiercely at the eyes of these troublemakers.
No noise, no clamor, his voice unimpeded as it bore down on them.
“Speak.”
“Keep speaking.”
“I will strangle you as if I were strangling a bug and then let’s see who’s the critter arching its back and wagging its tail, begging for mercy.”
“Speak.
Continue.
Please.”
One sentence after another, each word a sudden squall.
One by one, Li Wei scanned the crowd, locking eyes with each paper tiger showing their claws.
No vulgarities, no swear words; even a smile was on his lips, but the air was thick with the scent of blood.
It was only then that these pitiful fans remembered what it meant to come from a mixed martial arts background; the murderous aura unintentionally seeping from his smile and stance, as if his hands were truly stained with blood, his body emanating heat, his taut arms filled with power, his towering figure completely overshadowing the area, making them seem especially insignificant.
One by one, they huddled against the back of their seats, shoulders drawn up like small animals bustling together, truly believing that Li Wei meant what he said.
That smile was more terrifying than any threat.
One by one, those who had remained standing now quietly sat down, mouths shut, merely a group of paper tigers.
Eventually, only one was left standing.
The fan wearing the New England Patriots number twelve jersey was slow to realize that he was left without support and to sit down now, in full view of everyone, would be too embarrassing.
The number twelve mustered courage and looked towards Li Wei, “You…”
He had hardly uttered a syllable when he saw Li Wei smile, even giving an encouraging look, “Continue.
I’m here, I’m truly listening.”
The number twelve trembled with fear: This maniac.
Then, still with a smile, Li Wei continued as if he were discussing who should pay for drinks at a bar, “Say one word, and I’ll knock out one of your teeth; say another, and there goes another.”
“I know, I know, I might have to pay, I might face a lawsuit.
But hey, I should be able to hire a team of lawyers, drag it out, I don’t care where my paycheck goes, I have all the time.”
“Hah.”
“One word, one tooth.
How about it, is this deal worthwhile?
Interested in playing this game with me?”
The number twelve froze completely, not wanting to concede, but a chill shot up from his feet to his scalp, his whole body uncontrollably shuddering, even he hadn’t realized he was clamping his mouth shut.
Protecting his teeth.
Caught in a dilemma.
At this moment, the smile vanished from Li Wei’s lips, and his entire demeanor suddenly erupted with killing intent, “Don’t want to talk, then sit down.”
Thump.
The number twelve’s knees buckled, and he obediently sat down.
The area fell silent.
Then.
Li Wei, wearing a smirk that did not reach his eyes, gracefully jumped down without turning around but instead backed towards the stands at the football field.
And, raising his hand, he incited the fans, like at a concert, his face brimming with a smile as he called out to the crowd—
Louder.
Come on, louder.
Let the storm rage harder.
What do you think?
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