Chapter 37: Aftermath of the Battle

Mo Fei followed the same method, and after removing both arms of the woman, he no longer cared whether she lived or died. Instead, he spoke gently to Lü Chunqiu, coaxing her, “Sister Lü, it’s alright now. It’s Xiao Fei. You can let go.”

“Let’s stop the car first, otherwise it really will turn into walking a dog.”

Lü Chunqiu’s entire face was flushed red from the blood rushing to her head. Only when she heard the latter part did she slowly unclench her jaw, revealing a smile more pitiful than tears. “It’s an insult to dogs.”

The lower half of her face was smeared with the woman’s blood, making her look as though she’d just feasted on human flesh. Coupled with that unsightly smile, she could have frightened grown men to tears if taken outside.

Faced with this scene, Mo Fei was not only unafraid, he even teased, “I meant myself.”

His lighthearted tone helped soothe Lü Chunqiu’s nerves a little. She climbed back into the car, hands trembling as she brought the vehicle to a halt, not forgetting to turn on the hazard lights.

Mo Fei tossed aside the woman he’d been holding, then did a quick count.

Four men and one woman—all taken down. No mistake.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time.

From the moment the egg had been thrown at the window until now, barely ten minutes had passed. What began as a happy day had been completely ruined by these people.

Mo Fei shot a vicious glare at the wailing woman, then noticed Lü Chunqiu, hands shaking, retrieving a warning triangle from the car’s trunk. She trudged two hundred meters to set it up properly.

Catching Mo Fei’s gaze, Lü Chunqiu flinched and explained, “I had to take the driving theory test several times before I passed. I can’t afford any points deducted.”

Mo Fei nodded with satisfaction. Birds of a feather flock together—he was so law-abiding, and so were those around him.

“Xiao Fei, I ran someone over. Am I going to be sentenced?” Lü Chunqiu twisted at her sleeve, her face alternating between red and pale.

“Probably not,” Mo Fei replied, giving her a crash course in the law. “Article 20 of the Criminal Law states: In order to protect the interests of the state, public interest, oneself, or others from ongoing unlawful infringement, acts taken to stop such infringement that result in harm to the unlawful party are considered legitimate self-defense and do not bear criminal responsibility.”

“But I ran him over so badly—he’s ruined now,” Lü Chunqiu stammered, on the verge of tears from the intense shock. “Isn’t there any sort of humanitarian penalty?”

Mo Fei looked at her in surprise. “You don’t even know the definition of self-defense, but you can talk about humanitarian penalties?”

“But I can’t blame you. The Criminal Law is so thick—not everyone can devote themselves to reading it,” Mo Fei puffed out his cheeks, relieved to feel the bleeding in his mouth had eased. Though his words were slurred, he continued to comfort her, “You misunderstood. A humanitarian penalty means a lesser sentence for a serious crime, not a harsher sentence for one in doubt.”

“And the law makes it clear: If a person is defending against ongoing violent crimes that seriously endanger personal safety—such as assault, robbery, or rape—causing injury or death to the perpetrator is not considered excessive defense, and is not criminally liable.”

“Rest easy.”

Mo Fei thought for a moment, then added, “But this special defense also has conditions.”

Lü Chunqiu urged him, “Tell me, hurry.”

“The first is that the unlawful party must be engaged in violent crime seriously endangering personal safety.” Mo Fei glanced at the group of thugs. “These bastards even drew machetes—definitely fits.”

“And the second?”

“The first is the prerequisite; the second is timing,” Mo Fei surveyed the surroundings carefully. “The violent crime must be ongoing—meaning, simply, they have to strike first. Once we’ve subdued them, we can’t keep attacking.”

Lü Chunqiu imitated him, scanning the surroundings before asking with confusion, “What are you looking for?”

“Cameras,” Mo Fei sighed. “Since I fought back, there’s a chance they’ll call it mutual assault. With how things turned out, it’ll be hard to explain.”

“But since they dared to do this here, they must have checked the spot and know there are no cameras,” he added. “Without surveillance, just by the scene, it’s still self-defense. Don’t worry.”

Lü Chunqiu was silent for a couple of seconds, then suddenly dashed to the car, pried a memory card from the dashcam in the rearview mirror, and stomped on it several times.

Not satisfied, she ground it into the dirt and finally flung it far away at the roadside.

After such abuse, that fingernail-sized memory card was as good as lost, and even if found, it would be nothing more than a scrap of plastic.

Mo Fei, clutching his injured arm, watched her actions and silently gave a thumbs-up.

Lü Chunqiu pouted. “It was for protection from insurance fraudsters.”

Who could have guessed that after all these years, scammers would ignore her cheap car, but robbers would take an interest.

Not picky at all.

Not long after she’d destroyed the dashcam’s memory card, a black-and-white police car arrived at the scene.

Every district had its own police station, and this time the responding officers were unfamiliar faces—not Officer Xiao Xu, whom Mo Fei knew, but two strangers.

The two officers were taken aback at the scene.

People lay sprawled everywhere. A middle-aged woman’s face was missing a chunk of flesh; both arms twisted unnaturally as she wailed. Of the only two still standing, one was trembling like a leaf, blood smeared from mouth to chin, the other clutching a bleeding arm, silently spitting blood.

The officers exchanged a look and, in unspoken agreement, called for backup and an ambulance.

After ensuring reinforcements were on the way, they checked the condition of the injured. Finding that everyone was still breathing, they finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The impact of injured parties is worlds apart from fatalities; if no one dies, it’s best to keep it that way.

The friendlier of the two officers cautiously approached Lü Chunqiu for an account. Tearfully and in broken sentences, Lü Chunqiu recounted the events, even pointing out the eggs on her car.

The officers exchanged glances, appearing unsurprised. They comforted Lü Chunqiu, praising her for remembering to set up the triangle and turn on the hazards—clearly, she’d learned well in driving school.

With officers by her side, Lü Chunqiu felt her sense of security soar, only now noticing the waves of pain all over her body.

When the ambulance arrived, even the paramedics were astonished by the number of casualties.

Just one car, but five people down?

How did they manage that—lining up to get hit?

But when they saw the machete next to the thugs, their expressions changed, and their movements became much more cautious.

This time, statements were taken at the hospital.

Mo Fei had four stitches in his arm—fortunately missing arteries and tendons, so there would be no lasting damage beyond a scar.

Lü Chunqiu’s arms, chest, and back were covered with dark bruises from being twisted by the woman. It looked frightening, but would likely fade in a few days.