“Bang!”

Dongdong was knocked to the ground, shards of glass scattering everywhere, covered in dripping blood.

The beer bottle was extremely hefty, and the swinging force directly cracked Dongdong’s head open, blood covering her body.

Pique had just intended to stab Dongdong’s stomach with the broken bottle when he suddenly saw a pair of fierce eyes.

Dongdong’s face was covered with blood pouring from her head, the crimson liquid flowing into her eye sockets, staining those eyes beastly red, bringing a sense of ferocious madness.

The fight changed in an instant, and Pique was only stunned for a moment, but the outcome was worlds apart.

“Thump!”

Dongdong surged up wielding a baseball bat, and Pique, unable to dodge, had his jawbone smashed directly, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed to the ground.

With Pique down, Old Fatty standing there was scared out of his wits and ran for his life.

But this time, he wasn’t so lucky.

Dongdong swiftly caught up with Old Fatty, swung a bat at his head: “Get the hell out of here!”

“Thump!”

Old Fatty was sent sprawling to the ground, covering his bleeding head and screaming miserably.

Dongdong flicked the blood off the baseball bat, slung it over her shoulder, and looked coldly down at the four youths on the ground: “From now on, stop calling me names. Remember, my name’s Dongdong, the sound of clanging when the bat hits heads.”

The corner of the alley was in chaos, except for the one youth knocked completely unconscious, the remaining three were rolling and wailing all over the ground.

Seeing Dongdong approaching, Pique went into shock, drool mixed with blood continuously flowing from his mouth, mumbling indistinctly: “No… no more… I surrender…”

Dongdong wiped away the blood covering her eyes, coldly said: “Hand over your wallet.”

Pique, trembling, pulled his wallet from his pocket.

Dongdong snatched the wallet, counted the bills and coins, adding up to just over two hundred.

She kicked Pique directly: “Just this much?!”

Pique stammered: “The goods… didn’t go through… no money… I really don’t have any money…”

Dongdong: “Oh, then repay with your teeth.”

She swung the bat down, shattering Pique’s front teeth, and blood gushed from his mouth as he passed out from the pain.

Immediately after, Dongdong aimed at Pique’s right arm, fiercely breaking it with a bat.

She then walked towards the other youths, stepped on them, batting each of their arms until they broke, paying back the “revenge of broken arms.”

Dongdong spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, just about to leave, but suddenly felt weak at her feet, stumbling to the ground.

The intense pain previously suppressed by the adrenaline rush surged back, she covered the back of her head, seeing her hands full of blood, muttered: “Damn, have to go find that old man again…”

…

The Border District, devoid of government control, had no “hospitals” in the traditional sense.

Those living on the borders who were injured or fell ill could only turn to those privately-run black clinics.

The skills of the doctors in these clinics varied greatly, some with no medical experience, only reading a few books yet daring to prescribe drugs with severe side effects, eating problems but not responsible, only caring about their profit.

While other doctors were well-versed in medicine, some even understood high-end technologies such as prosthetic implantation, blood code compiling, and spiritual brain modifications, these people often became targets for recruitment by various groups at the border.

The “Ping’an Clinic” was located in the southern part of the Border District, owned by a man named “Gordon”, who was 82 years old this year.

Gordon, in his youth, was a notorious thug feared throughout the Border District, equipped with “Fearless Level” prosthetics that struck fear into countless groups, with thousands having died at his hands, even the Anti-Violence Fourth Section was wary of him.

Just the second year after the enactment of the “Border Isolation Act”, at the age of 34, Gordon single-handedly busted through the border, becoming the first “King of the Borderlands.”

But his good fortune didn’t last long, at the age of 37, Gordon’s wife and daughter were secretly avenged by enemies, his 14-year-old daughter was hacked to pieces at home, his wife went mad and committed suicide because of it, leaving him a lonely man.

The despair left Gordon utterly broken, he drowned himself in alcohol daily, finally fading quietly from public view.

He dismantled those battle prosthetics made for slaughter, replaced them with various civilian prosthetics, and underwent plastic surgery, living under a new name to become a doctor.

Forty years have passed, Gordon’s era had long been over.

Those who came to Ping’an Clinic for treatment were unaware that the elderly, white-haired man who walked unsteadily before them was the original king of the Border District.

Now, Gordon was just practicing medicine day in and day out, he never cared whether patients had money or not, if they had it, they would give it, but if not, he would let them owe it, not worried about it even if they didn’t repay.

Perhaps he had seen through the world long ago, merely seeking peace of mind in his remaining years.

Or maybe he was trying to atone for the bloody sins of his youth.

He would treat every injured person who came to Ping’an Clinic indiscriminately, regardless of who they were, or which group they belonged to.

At this moment, in the trauma room of Ping’an Clinic, Gordon was holding a forceps and a needle, tending to Dongdong’s wounds.

The suture needle pierced through Dongdong’s torn hair; the piercing pain caused her to involuntarily gasp for air: “Hiss…”

Gordon’s hand stopped: “Does it hurt?”

Dongdong complained: “No shit, it’s a needle going into flesh, how could it not hurt?”

Gordon picked up a cotton ball to absorb the oozing blood, becoming gentler in his actions, muttering: “If it hurts, don’t keep getting into fights, every time you come here, you’re covered in wounds…”

Dongdong covered her ears: “Ah— The old man’s lecturing again!”

Gordon lightly patted her hand: “Let go, you’re pressing my line.”

He continued to suture Dongdong’s wound, his cloudy eyes full of the vicissitudes of life: “You’re only 14, the best years of your life are just starting, wasting time getting into fights every day is really a shame.”

Dongdong, nagged to the point of exhaustion, lazily asked: “Then tell me, what can I do?”

Gordon gently patted Dongdong’s little head, his movements slow, as if afraid of hurting her again, constantly muttering: “You can do anything. You can read more, learn some culture, get a stable job in the future, preferably in those big companies.”

“If you can’t get in, it’s okay, you can learn a craft, being a chef is quite good. Compared to the cuisine made by intelligent robots, big shots prefer meals made by human chefs, and you can earn a living on this skill.”

“If there’s really nowhere to go, you can come to my clinic, I could use a helper.”

“Once you’ve saved up some money, I’ll help you find an honest and reliable guy, and you can move to the Inner City, isn’t that much better than fighting all the time on the borders?”

Dongdong chuckled: “Old man, since when did you start matchmaking?”

She turned her head, pointing at Gordon with a laugh, “Tell me, did some jerk take a liking to me and pay you to play matchmaker?”

Her turning motion tugged on the wound, making her shoulder tense up: “Hiss…”

Gordon gently tapped her nose: “Told you not to move, yet you did.”

Dongdong straightened her back: “Alright, alright, you do it, I won’t move.”

Gordon continued suturing, asking softly: “Don’t you have any plans for life? Is just fighting every day all there is?”

Dongdong picked up the baseball bat by her side and raised it high into the air, boldly exclaimed: “That’s right, whoever disagrees gets a beating! In the Border District, the bigger fist is the real deal, power is everything!”

“One day, I will use my own strength to become the King of the Borderlands, gaining everyone’s respect! Reaching the pinnacle of life!”

“…Oh well, why am I telling you this, you studied medicine, you wouldn’t understand.”

Gordon remained silent, his gaze filled with unfathomable melancholy.

After finishing the sutures, Gordon sprayed healing medication on her wound, bandaging it up: “Alright, it’s just a surface wound, it’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Thanks, here you go.” Dongdong jumped off the chair, tossing a few blood-stained wallets onto the table.

All were snatched from Pique’s group.

She pointed to her own spine, laughingly said: “This money, plus today’s medical fees, all settled, I don’t owe you anymore.”

Gordon shook his head silently: “It wouldn’t matter if you didn’t pay it back… Dongdong, think it over, really. You’re still young, it’s not too late to turn back.”

Dongdong, carrying her baseball bat, swaggered off: “I have my own way of living, old man, you just take care of yourself, bye~”

Gordon watched the departing figure of Dongdong, his weathered eyes full of desolation.

He curled up alone in the chair, trembling, his head hung low, much like a homeless old dog.

“When she left… she was just your age…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep