Reborn a day later, I emptied my enemy's possessions beforehand.

Apart from Sun Deming's pleas for mercy and the muffled thuds of the two men punching and kicking each other, there was no other sound in the courtyard.

Sun Guiying stood beside the square table, still holding the unfinished bowl of porridge in her hand. She looked at her father, who was curled up on the ground after being beaten, and her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she did not speak.

She placed the bowl of porridge back on the table, took two steps back, leaned against the wall, crossed her arms, and wore a cold expression that she thought she had hidden well but which was obvious to everyone.

She wasn't watching her father being beaten; it was more like watching someone she had no connection with go through a process that she was bound to go through sooner or later.

Sun Guixiang stood to the side, her gaze shifting back and forth between the ground and her two uncles, neither taking a step forward nor backward.

He just stood there quietly, still holding his chopsticks, a grain of rice clinging to the tip, as if he had just picked it up from the bowl and hadn't even had a chance to put it in his mouth before it got stuck.

She watched as Sun Deming curled up on the ground, listening to his pleas for mercy being interrupted and resumed by punches and kicks, yet not a trace of concern appeared on her lips.

It was as if the middle-aged man lying on the ground being kicked and beaten was not her "father," but just a resident of this courtyard.

Sun Guiwu squatted by the threshold, his fists clenched tightly, his nails digging into his palms, but he glanced at his two uncles' robust physiques...

He looked at his thin arms again, and the thought of rushing forward swirled in his mind before he suppressed it.

He turned his head away, looking at the jujube tree in the yard as if he were looking at a scene that had nothing to do with him.

A large crowd had already gathered in the open space of Sun Deming's yard.

Chen Lihua and Zhao Xiuqin stood at the front, craning their necks to look into the courtyard, whispering excitedly to each other, their voices low but their expressions animated:

"Look how fierce those two brothers-in-law are, they beat Village Chief Sun until he screamed in pain."

"Serves him right, he got what he deserved for hitting his own wife."

"..."

Wang Jinshan stood beside them, a subtle smile playing on his lips, a smile he himself might not even be aware of, as if he were watching a play that had nothing to do with him.

Zhou Haibing stood a few steps behind the crowd, with Li Su'e and Zhou Haiqing standing next to him.

He didn't push forward, but simply watched the farce unfolding in the courtyard from a distance—

Two burly men surrounded a middle-aged man curled up on the ground, punching and kicking him. The middle-aged man dodged and begged for mercy.

His two daughters stood by watching without pity, while his youngest son squatted on the doorstep, pretending he hadn't seen anything.

The morning light fell on them, stretching the shadows of the falling fists into distorted and sharp shapes.

Zhou Haiqing leaned closer to his older brother, his voice low, as if afraid of being overheard:

"Brother, the village chief got beaten up pretty badly..."

Zhou Haibing hummed in response, but didn't say anything more.

His gaze pierced through the crowd and landed in the center of the courtyard, on Sun Deming, who was curled up on the ground, covering his head and being beaten.

The blows then landed on Wang Aiju, who stood to the side with her hands on her hips, looking smug, and on Wang Aiguo and Wang Aihua behind her, who were relentlessly punching and kicking her.

The corners of his mouth curved slightly, a small curve, but clearly outlined in the morning light, carrying a lightness and crispness that only he himself understood.

This person, in his previous life, relied on his age and forced him to stuff all of Sun's relatives into the company to receive salaries for free, draining hundreds of thousands of yuan from his pocket every year.

That daughter, with the title of village chief's daughter, acted arrogantly. After marrying him, she slept with his childhood friend, gave birth to someone else's child, and made him raise it for thirty years.

The farce of his own people fighting each other unfolded more cleanly and efficiently than he had anticipated.

The one who hit was Wang Aiju, and the one who was hit was Sun Deming. Both of them were the people he least wanted to see, and they were putting on a show for him without him having to lift a finger.

Compared to his original plan to sort things out slowly, this decisive, all-out effort made all the old grievances that had been weighing on his mind feel like they had been exposed to the full force of the sun.

He felt a sense of comfort watching this. Standing outside the crowd, hands in his pockets, back slightly leaning against the earthen wall behind him, the morning light falling on his profile.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, the meaning of which only he himself understood.

Zhou Haiqing, standing beside him, clutched the hem of his clothes, her eyes glued to the scene inside, her face flushed with excitement, as if she were watching a play she had been waiting for for a long time.

Li Su'e stood on his other side, not saying a word, but her gaze remained fixed on him as well.

Besides curiosity, there was also a hint of inexplicable satisfaction, a quiet sense of catharsis for the injustice of yesterday.

The three of them stood together, watching the lively infighting taking place in the yard.

……

Chen Guoqiang stood at the front of the crowd, watching as the Wang brothers, Aiguo and Aihua, punched and kicked Sun Deming on the ground, the beating becoming increasingly violent.

The sound of the fist landing was muffled, and with each punch, Sun Deming's body curled up slightly.

The wailing went from initial pleas for mercy to muffled sobs, then to intermittent gasps, like a fish struggling to breathe in the mud, flicking its tail.

Chen Guoqiang couldn't stand it anymore.

He took two steps into the courtyard and stretched out his hand to block Wang Aiguo's way:

"Patriotic comrade, stop fighting! If you keep going, someone will die! Can't we sit down and talk this out?"

Wang Aiguo glanced at him, ignored him, turned sideways, and kicked Sun Deming in the shin.

Chen Guoqiang went up and grabbed Wang Aihua's shoulder again. Wang Aihua swung her arm, and her elbow hit Chen Guoqiang's chest. He groaned and took two steps back, clutching his chest, his face flushed with anger.

He took a deep breath, his voice suddenly rising several octaves, loud and deep, booming through the courtyard:

"Stop! If you keep fighting, I'll call the police! If you two brothers don't want to go to jail, stop right now!"

The words "report to the police" seemed to flip a switch, and the Wang brothers stopped simultaneously.

Wang Aihua's fist was still hanging in mid-air, poised to fall, when she heard the word "police" and her fist stopped, then slowly lowered.

Wang Aiguo also straightened up from the ground, took a couple of deep breaths, took half a step back, put his hands on his hips, and his chest was still heaving violently.

Sun Deming was curled up on the ground, his hands covering his head and his face buried under his arms. He looked like a hedgehog that had shrunk down, but all his quills had fallen off, leaving only a bald patch.

His face was swollen beyond recognition; his left eye was swollen into a slit, and a fist-sized bruise on his cheekbone was a dark purple.

Two cuts appeared at the corners of his mouth, and blood flowed down his chin, staining his collar with a dark red hue.