Chapter 136: Stepping Forward

The Mexican strode toward Martin Carter, glared at him, clenched his fists, and said, "You are asking for it, man. You shouldn't have said that. You should have kept your mouth shut!" As he squeezed his fists, his knuckles cracked with a chilling sound.

The chubby driver prepared to head toward the driver's console, where an alarm device was located—all it took was the push of a button. But the Mexican turned and glared at him the moment he moved. "If you dare to call the police, I swear I'll make your death look horrific."

Instantly, the chubby driver froze in place. Everyone retreated, and no one dared to mention calling the police as they watched the Mexican close in on Martin Carter step by step.

"Damn it!" Martin Carter decided to strike first. He lunged forward abruptly, hunching over, attempting to tackle the Mexican around the waist. The idea was right, but the disparity in strength between them was far too vast. The moment he rushed forward, the Mexican pinned his head down with one hand and unleashed a sharp hook punch.

With a loud thud, Martin Carter staggered backward, crashing sideways into the aisle. If he hadn't been blocked by the seats, he would have slid much further. The punch was heavy, directly causing Martin Carter to spit blood. His gumline was loosened, and a mixture of blood and saliva spewed from his mouth.

"You're dead, oh God... stop, stop... I apologize..." Martin Carter finally broke, waving his hands frantically. "Don't come over, I apologize... I shouldn't have said that to you..."

"Too late, nigger. Damn nigger, you shouldn't have messed with me. I'm going to knock out every single tooth in your mouth, and I mean it!" The Mexican's massive frame blocked out Martin Carter's line of sight. Looking up from the floor, the man resembled an iron tower. This genuinely frightened Martin Carter. Once begging begins, all courage evaporates completely.

"You can't do this. Man, I already apologized!" Martin Carter pleaded almost tearfully.

"You should have watched your mouth. I'm not accepting an apology now. Taste my fist, nigger!" The Mexican said as he bent down, grabbed Martin Carter by the collar, hoisted him up, and swung a fist straight at his jaw. Had that punch connected, a few teeth would surely have been dislodged.

Everyone on the bus averted their eyes, bracing themselves to hear the anticipated screams and the sickening crack of a fracturing jaw. Even the chubby driver felt a sympathetic ache in his own teeth.

Yet, it remained oddly peaceful; none of those sounds materialized. Martin Carter, who had closed his eyes to brace for the impact, felt as though nothing had happened—as if time had frozen. He cautiously opened his eyes and peeked through a narrow slit.

The Mexican's fist was gripped firmly in someone's palm. The punch could not descend because a single hand had locked onto his fist, preventing him from striking Martin Carter altogether. Everyone turned to look at the scene unfold. A Chinese man stood facing the Mexican, looking at him with utter calmness while holding his fist in a tight grip.

"Let's end this here. He has already apologized!" Qiu Fengyu said to the Mexican calmly. "He has learned his lesson, doesn't it, man?" It sounded like a negotiation, yet the tone carried an undeniable sense of finality.

The Mexican tried to pull his fist back, but despite his face turning red with exertion, he could not retract it even an inch. Though fierce, he was no idiot; he realized the man standing before him was vastly superior in strength. Furthermore, the opponent had already offered him a way to back down with dignity.

Gritting his teeth, the Mexican nodded, the murderous glint in his eyes receding. "Fine, I'll do you a favor. Damn nigger, remember this: don't go around provoking Mexicans lightly. We are not to be messed with. Get off this bus right now, and don't let me see you on it again."

"What? Make me get off the bus? No, no, that's impossible..." Martin Carter immediately began to shout. "I don't want to get off here. I'm penniless—are you expecting me to walk all the way back to Arizona?"

"I don't care. You're getting off right now," the Mexican glared at Martin Carter.

"No, no, hey... buddy, be fair, I can't get off here!" Catching sight of Qiu Fengyu, Martin Carter hurried over and pleaded almost desperately, "Please, say something fair for me."

"No one is getting off. Don't worry!" Qiu Fengyu glanced at him, then turned to the Mexican. "This matter ends here. That is what I said just now. If you thought I was negotiating with you, you are mistaken—this is an order. Sit back down in your seat. You insulted him as well, calling him a nigger, and I heard it loud and clear. Although he was in the wrong first, you've already paid him back!"

"You want to meddle in this?" The Mexican stared down Qiu Fengyu.

"I am meddling for sure!" Qiu Fengyu tightened his grip slightly, and the Mexican's mouth instantly twisted in agony, nearly eliciting a scream from him. Such was the power displayed before him—like it or not, compliance was the only option.

"But... what I said still stands," the Mexican said through clenched teeth. "I said I wouldn't stay with this guy, I don't want to see him, and I keep my word. Damn it, open the door, I'm getting off. Damn it, hurry up!" he shouted at the chubby driver.

The chubby driver hurriedly opened the bus door. The moment Qiu Fengyu released his grip, the Mexican clutched his bruised fist, his mouth still twisted. The clear impressions of fingerprints deeply embedded in his skin made him realize what kind of monster he had crossed. Riding alongside such a freak was far worse than waiting for the next bus. Thus, he seized the excuse to get off.

The door swung open, and the Mexican stepped down. Watching the bus doors close and the vehicle slowly pull away, he spat toward the rear of the bus, raised his middle finger, and cursed, "Fucking Chinese, fucking nigger, fucking white trash."

"That's what you deserve, you Mexican bastard!" Martin Carter stuck his head out the window, shouting loudly at the receding figure of the Mexican while also flipping him the middle finger. Then, pulling his head back in, he slumped into the seat next to Qiu Fengyu and flashed a wide grin. "Thank you! You're amazing. Was that Chinese kung fu just now?"

"I didn't want to get involved in this in the first place," Qiu Fengyu frowned. "You know why. Now listen, buddy, there are plenty of seats over there. Can I have some peace and quiet by myself?"

"Uh, right, sure, no problem. But... still, thank you. You're a good guy!" Martin Carter wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, shrugged, and smiled. "I'm not racist, really; I just spoke my mind. I'm sick of being harassed by them. You know, back in my small town—"

"Stop, Carter. I have no interest in what happens in your small town. I just want to sit quietly and finish my journey, alright?" Qiu Fengyu interrupted him. He glanced around the bus cabin; everyone was sitting as far away as possible. Clearly, his display of prowess earlier had made the other passengers keep their distance in awe and fear.

"I know, I know, but... thanks again!" With that, Martin Carter shifted his backside and moved to a row of seats further up front.

Qiu Fengyu shook his head with a bitter smile. Finally, some quiet. No matter how far away people chose to sit from him, he couldn't care less. He would just live his own life. Once he reached his destination, he would likely never see these people again anyway. Who cared what they thought?

The bus continued onward. By noon, it pulled into a gas station equipped with a fast-food restaurant. Many passengers disembarked to buy food. After a brief ten-minute stop, everyone purchased their provisions, boarded the bus again, and ate on the move.

Qiu Fengyu returned to the bus carrying a hamburger, several hot dogs, and a few bottles of water. Perhaps owing to his earlier display of quiet heroism—though not flashy martial arts, the mere fact that he had cowed the Mexican troublemaker had instilled a sense of fearful respect in everyone on board—the other passengers politely let him board first.

Qiu Fengyu didn't stand on ceremony. Once aboard, he got down to his lunch, biting into his hamburger. Suddenly, a cup of cola was thrust forward from the row ahead, revealing Martin Carter's grinning face. Looking at Qiu Fengyu with a cheerful smirk, he said, "This is on me, to show my gratitude. Don't turn it down; I don't mean anything else by it."

Qiu Fengyu stared into his eyes without saying a word.

Feeling a bit awkward, Martin Carter tried pushing the cola closer, suddenly looking at a loss for what to do. Just as he began to panic, Qiu Fengyu reached out, took the cup, and offered a faint smile. "Thanks. Did I scare you?"

"Oh, man, you scared the living daylights out of me back there!" Martin Carter exaggeratedly patted his chest and said, "Thank God the friendly Chinese guy is back. Can I move back to that seat?" He pointed his finger at the empty seat right beside Qiu Fengyu.

"No, man, your current seat suits you just fine. It's too crowded for two people to squeeze together." Qiu Fengyu rejected the proposal without hesitation; the guy was clearly the type to push his luck the moment he was given an inch.

"Alright, I get it!" Martin Carter straightened up. But not even a minute later, he suddenly spun around, poking his head back to look at Qiu Fengyu. "I'm really not a racist person, you know? It's just that back home, those guys constantly provoke me, so I don't have any good feelings toward them."

"I know. That's why... I didn't hold anything against you." Qiu Fengyu raised the cup of cola in his hand, signaling that accepting the drink meant he harbored no hard feelings.

"That's great then. You know what? My house got broken into by those Mexicans several times, and once they even stole my motorcycle—"

"I know. Can you let your mouth rest for a bit?" Qiu Fengyu shook his head helplessly. This trip was truly turning out to be anything but dull.