The Twelve Zodiac Guardian Gods​

The capital of the Yanhuang Republic—simply known as the Beijing —is the political heart of the nation. With a population nearing thirty million, it stands among the most densely populated metropolises in the world. Its vastness alone is enough to leave one breathless.

Jingshan District, the smallest of the capital’s administrative zones, occupies only a fraction of the urban sprawl. At four o’clock in the afternoon, school had just let out, and the entrance of Jingshan Vocational School was already crowded. In a shadowy corner near the school gates, two figures lingered quietly.

“Boss, are you sure that kid’s showing up today?” The speaker was a pudgy teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen. He stood just over a meter tall, but his round body gave the impression of being equally wide—like a human globe.

Next to him stood a lanky youth who looked a few years older. His thin build made the contrast even more obvious. While his facial features were unremarkable individually, his narrow eyes gleamed with a sharp, calculating light. Altogether, there was something oddly harmonious about his appearance—something dangerous, like a venomous snake calmly watching its prey.

“That kid’ll definitely come today,” said the older boy, whose name was Qi Yue. “He always picks her up. Should be any minute now. Dammit, I’m not in the mood for bad luck today.” He reached into his pocket and scribbled the character “祛” (to dispel) onto his palm, muttering under his breath. “Gotta ward off misfortune…”

The fat one, nicknamed “Vole,” nodded earnestly, though worry lingered in his eyes. “Boss, I heard that kid’s been training in martial arts since he was little. Seven or eight years of real practice… You think the two of us can take him?”

Qi Yue patted the messenger bag slung across his body and grinned. “Relax. Don’t forget—I brought a spiritual weapon.”

Vole blinked in surprise, then chuckled. “Boss, that bag of yours… doesn’t really match your usual style. Looks like something a college nerd would carry.”

Qi Yue gave him an impatient look. “Cut the crap. Your boss here might not have made it through high school, but I still got two years of street smarts after junior high. Now focus. Get ready.”

Just then, a girl walked out of the school gates. She had delicate features and a shapely figure that hinted at early maturity. Instead of a school uniform, she wore a short skirt and a bright yellow, half-sleeve top that fluttered in the wind. Her clothes made her seem older than her actual age, and her confident demeanor set her apart from the other students hurrying home.

She paused at the gate and looked around, as if searching for someone.

Right on cue, a figure dashed toward the school entrance. “Nana, I’m here!” the boy called out cheerfully.

The voice belonged to a teenager around eighteen or nineteen. He stood nearly 1.8 meters tall, with a strong, athletic build. His tracksuit clung comfortably to his frame, and his shoulder-length black hair streamed behind him as he ran. His smile was radiant, his movements effortless. There was a hint of mischief in the curve of his lips, but it only added to his charm.

“I just came out,” said Nana sweetly, greeting the handsome young man with a bright smile.

Without hesitation, the young man took her hand in his and grinned mischievously. “Nana, I missed you to death. What should we do now, huh?”

Nana giggled, seemingly unbothered by the curious stares of students around them. “Mmm… maybe we can’t go to your place.”

“Perfect,” he replied, his eyes flashing with heat, the smile on his lips turning noticeably lecherous.

“A match made in heaven, huh?” A mocking voice interrupted from the shadows.

From a nearby corner, Qi Yue and his round sidekick known as Vole stepped out with sneers on their faces. Clearly, they had been lying in wait for this exact moment.

When Nana saw Qi Yue, a flicker of panic crossed her face. She instinctively moved to hide behind the handsome boy.

“Damn girl, what are you hiding for?” Qi Yue sneered. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to lay a hand on you. I’m just here to cripple this punk.”

The young man scoffed. “Nana, don’t be scared. I’m here. As for this loser, I could deal with ten of him.”

Qi Yue stopped five meters away, his posture tense with menace. Vole crossed his arms and shouted, “Yan Xiaoyi, you dumbass! You had the nerve to steal our boss’s girl? You’re not walking away today without learning a lesson!”

“You two?” Yan Xiaoyi sneered, looking them up and down. He lifted his right leg and performed a sharp, elegant side kick through the air. The motion was clean, precise, and effortlessly stylish—especially with his handsome face and shoulder-length black hair. But the look in his eyes was pure contempt.

Seeing that, Nana—still hiding behind him—seemed to find some courage. She raised her voice toward Qi Yue: “We don’t have anything to do with each other anymore. Stop bothering me. I’m with Xiaoyi now!”

Qi Yue’s lips curled into a bitter sneer. Without saying a word, he unzipped his schoolbag and reached inside. Vole did the same.

Yan Xiaoyi’s expression shifted noticeably. Though he refused to show weakness in front of Nana, wariness flickered in his eyes.

“If you dare lay a finger on me, you’d better think twice. My dad works at the city’s Public Security Bureau. Thugs like you belong in juvenile detention.”

Qi Yue’s expression turned dark.

He had been orphaned young, raised in state care. Without anyone to properly guide him, his rebellious streak only worsened with age. Although the Yanhuang Republic offered twelve years of free compulsory education, Qi Yue never made it through high school. He dropped out and drifted through the streets. In the eyes of society, he was just another idle delinquent—brawling, smoking, drinking, and causing trouble.

He had once dated Nana for over a year. And while Qi Yue wasn’t a good person by any means, her being his first love still meant something to him. But now, she had thrown him aside for a well-connected punk like Yan Xiaoyi—someone who not only had martial skills but a powerful father backing him.

That made Qi Yue’s blood boil.

He had come to the school today with a single goal: to settle this score.

“I hear you know martial arts?” Qi Yue asked, eyeing Yan Xiaoyi with disdain.

Yan Xiaoyi raised his chin proudly. “Damn right. I’ve been training for years. My master is the Northern Leg King himself. What, you want to see what real kicking looks like? Hmph, fighting trash like you… would be an insult to my shoes.”

Qi Yue pulled something from his bag and let out a cold laugh. “Ever heard of the saying, ‘all martial arts crumble before sheer force’?”

In a flash, he lunged forward—so fast that even Yan Xiaoyi, with years of training, was caught off guard.

In Qi Yue’s hand was a massive brick.

His so-called “secret weapon,” carefully tucked away in his schoolbag, was now swinging straight for Yan Xiaoyi’s smug face.

Despite being caught off guard earlier, Yan Xiaoyi wasn’t just some pampered rich kid—he had trained in martial arts for years. So when Qi Yue came charging at him with a brick, Yan Xiaoyi didn’t panic. After all, how dangerous could a brick really be?

What he hadn’t accounted for was Qi Yue’s street-brawling experience.

As Qi Yue closed in, he suddenly flung the brick with all his might. It whistled through the air, aimed straight at Yan Xiaoyi’s head.

Yan Xiaoyi had been preparing to unleash a whip kick the moment Qi Yue stepped into his range—but now, caught off-guard by the unexpected attack, he could only raise his arm to block. Though he had martial training, his body hadn’t been tempered to the level of copper skin and iron bones. That brick was solid and heavy, and when it smashed into his forearm, a sharp cry tore from his lips.

His arm throbbed with pain. Something had definitely cracked.

Before he could recover, Qi Yue was already on him.

The same brick that had bounced off Yan Xiaoyi’s arm was snatched back up in Qi Yue’s hand, and without hesitation, he swung it down again.

Just then, Vole arrived on the scene, a few steps behind his boss. He too had a hefty brick in hand and a bizarre sort of battle cry on his lips:

“As the sage Confucius once said:

Strike with bricks, aim for the face—never waver.

If I care, I’ll go alone.

If I have friends, I’ll get excited.

If I’m not happy, I’ll cause trouble.

If I don’t care, I’ll die.

And if I’m scared to die—

then damn it, I’m not a real man!”

One could only imagine what Confucius might say if he heard his ancient teachings invoked for a street fight involving bricks.