Starting Sign-In from a Billionaire God

Lin Fan drove the Rolls-Royce to the school, picked up Chu Xiaoxiao, and then headed for the Chu Family.

The Chu Family mansion was built in the wealthy district, the environment was excellent.

In this wealthy district, luxury cars were everywhere, and the people who frequently came and went here were either rich or noble, driving sports cars and luxury vehicles. It would be a rare sight to come across an ordinary sedan.

Those driving ordinary cars were most likely taxi drivers, couriers, or food delivery workers.

Lin Fan was driving the Rolls-Royce along the road, and at a crossroads ahead, he saw with his own eyes a Ferrari sports car speeding, so Lin Fan slammed on the brakes and stopped the car.

It was most likely a Rich Second Generation, and Lin Fan didn't want to risk his life with such a spoiled brat.

However, a food delivery electric scooter turned out from the side intersection and wasn't so lucky.

The delivery rider didn't anticipate the sports car moving so fast, and quickly tried to swerve, but was still a step too late.

The electric scooter brushed past the Ferrari sports car, flipping over on site.

The Ferrari sports car then parked sideways at the roadside, with visible scratch marks on one side of the car door and a peeling patch of paint.

Beside it, the electric scooter lay on its side, its delivery box overturned, a food container shattered, with food and sauce splattered everywhere.

The delivery rider was thrown off, landing on the ground. He struggled to get up, limping heavily, possibly having hurt his foot and unable to walk properly for now.

"Are you freaking blind!"

The young man in the Ferrari driver's seat stuck his head out, shouting and cursing at the delivery rider.

He then opened the car door and got out.

This young man was dressed fashionably, with dyed yellow hair like a punk, but different from punks because he was covered head to toe in luxury brands, each outfit costing several thousands. This isn't something any ordinary punk could afford to wear.

This was definitely a Rich Second Generation.

The Rich Second Generation saw the scratch on his car door, instantly agitated, clutching his head: "Damn it...damn it to hell...just look at what you did to my car!"

The Rich Second Generation pointed at the delivery rider, swearing furiously.

The delivery rider noticed the scratch on the Ferrari sports car, his legs went weak, almost falling over, pale-faced, damn it, he was screwed. This one scratch would cost him tens of thousands, how many deliveries would it take to earn tens of thousands!

He absolutely couldn't afford it!

Damn it, he shouldn't have been delivering food in this damned rich district. His colleagues had warned him that in a wealthy area, being extremely careful was necessary to avoid damaging a rich person's car; one scratch could cost you your life.

Unexpectedly, he was so unlucky today, encountering the situation he feared most.

The delivery rider didn't want to bear this responsibility.

The delivery rider said, "It's not my fault, you were driving too fast, you shouldn't be speeding in a place like this."

"What?" The Rich Second Generation got angry, "You damaged my car and now you want to shirk responsibility?"

The delivery rider said, "I'm not shirking responsibility, I'm speaking reason, it's not my fault to begin with. I was driving properly, you were the one speeding."

He couldn't admit fault no matter what. Admitting fault would entail compensating the Ferrari's scratch, something he certainly couldn't afford.

The Rich Second Generation fumed: "You're saying it's not shirking responsibility? Have the guts not to leave!"

The Rich Second Generation pulled out his phone and made a call, aiming to call for reinforcements.

Comparing himself to the delivery rider, the Rich Second Generation found himself losing out on physical strength, fearing he'd suffer if it came to blows.

Seeing the other party calling for people, the delivery rider dared not stay, quickly enduring the pain to scramble up his electric scooter, planning to escape.

Unfortunately, the electric scooter was so damaged it couldn't start, and the delivery rider broke out in a cold sweat with urgency.

Seeing this, the Rich Second Generation sneered, "Don't even think of escaping, give it up, you can't get away!"

The commotion had already attracted the nearby crowd's attention.

Soon, a patrol electric car drove over, the kind usually seen on golf courses.

From the car, four sturdy men jumped out, all muscular.

The Rich Second Generation saw this and immediately cheered up, pointing at the delivery rider: "This guy crashed my car and wants to escape, catch him for me!"

The four sturdy men surged forward, surrounding the delivery rider.

One of the sturdy men reached out and grabbed the delivery rider, pulling him off the electric scooter.

"Damn it, kneel down for me!"

One of the men kicked at the delivery rider's knee, causing him to kneel uncontrollably, and then was held down by the men, unable to move.

The delivery rider was terrified, went pale, and trembled all over, damn it, he'd provoked someone he shouldn't have.

"Spare me, it's really not my fault," the delivery rider cried in fear.

"You little punk, damaged my car. You're not leaving without paying today, I'll beat you to death!" The Rich Second Generation roared angrily.

This Rich Second Generation had just bought the Ferrari sports car today, planning to take his new girlfriend for a ride, but unexpectedly got into this accident. No wonder he was furious.

With the intention of showing off, who would have expected to lose control, colliding with the delivery rider's scooter.

The Rich Second Generation felt both humiliated and livid, raging on the spot, demanding compensation from the delivery rider.

The delivery rider decided firmly not to admit fault: "If you want me to pay you, then you'd better come and rob me first. Besides, you were the one driving recklessly, I haven't even asked you to compensate for my scooter yet! At most, I'll pay you a few hundred bucks, do you want it?"

The Rich Second Generation grew ever angrier: "Do you know how much my car costs, 4 million! A few hundred bucks, do you think I'm driving your kind of junk car? At least 200 thousand, charging you 200 thousand for repair is already being generous. If you don't pay, see if I don't beat you to death!"

The delivery rider got scared to death: "Even if you beat me to death, I don't have that much money. You might as well kill me."

The Rich Second Generation got infuriated: "Beat him up, beat him to death!"

Seeing the several men about to beat the delivery rider.

"Hold on!"

Suddenly a loud shout.

Lin Fan got out of the Rolls-Royce and stopped them.

No choice, this incident blocked the intersection, he couldn't pass through and had to resolve it before moving ahead.

Having previously worked as a delivery rider himself, Lin Fan felt a kinship with the delivery rider, especially having personally witnessed the accident and had no reason for the delivery rider to get hit unjustly.

Instantly, the crowd's gaze turned to Lin Fan.

The Rich Second Generation looked Lin Fan up and down, saying arrogantly, "Who the hell are you?"

Lin Fan's Rolls-Royce was worth 8 million, but such luxury cars weren't very eye-catching in this wealthy district.

Lin Fan smiled and said, "I'm just a passerby who witnessed your collision, and I think I have something to say about it."

The Rich Second Generation said, "I asked who the hell you are, what gives you the right to meddle here?"

Lin Fan said, "Who am I? Okay, my name is Lin Fan."