Chuzheng caught it out of the corner of her eye and sidestepped, causing the boy to lunge at nothing.
What was meant to be a swift kick from Chuzheng was held back; her skirt fluttered through the air and gradually settled.
One cannot hit students at school.
The boy stood up, rubbing his nose, "Hehe, Teacher Ruan."
"You've learned to lift a teacher's skirt now—what's next, murder? These brats really need a lesson! Is my skirt something you can lift?"
The boy was speechless.
Chuzheng remained expressionless, "Good luck."
Just wait until after school, see if I don't deal with you then!
Chuzheng left unhurriedly.
A few class tyrants gathered around afterward.
"Why is Teacher Ruan suddenly so hot-tempered, it's kind of scary."
"Did she just tell me 'good luck'?" Class Tyrant Number Four, who planned to lift Chuzheng's skirt, asked his companions sheepishly, "Did I hear wrong?"
"Nope." The others nodded in agreement.
Class Tyrant Number Four suddenly felt a chill.
