This shot came lightning-fast and vicious. If it had been an ordinary expert, they would have been finished on the spot. However, Andrew was not just any ordinary expert; he was extraordinary.

In a split second, he tilted his head to the side and dodged the deadly bullet.

With a loud crash, a urinal's water pipe exploded from the impact. Amid the spray of water, Andrew suddenly vanished.

When he reappeared, he was right in front of Goldfangs' face. He raised his hand and reached for the assassin's throat.

Goldfangs quickly stepped back and retreated, laughing, "Well, well, pretty quick reflexes. No wonder Eagle Eye fell for your tricks."

A rapid burst of gunfire erupted, decisive and ruthless. Unfortunately, all the shots hit the ceiling instead of their target.

Goldfangs had gotten too close to Andrew when he drew his weapon. Since he did not have enough distance to shoot properly, Andrew grabbed his gun hand and shoved it upward.

This caused the barrel to point straight at the ceiling.

"Son of a bitch!" Goldfangs cursed and decisively dropped his expensive golden Desert Eagle. His other hand swept out in a vicious arc, seemingly aimed at Andrew's neck.

However, hidden in his sleeve was a triple-edged blade, waiting to ambush Andrew's body.

low and avoided the treacherous strike. At the same time, he delivered an uppercut that slammed straight into Goldfangs'

blood flew out in a

a roar and lunged forward, slicing through the mist of shattered water like a beast.

Andrew stood completely still. At

and pivoted, flinging him

headfirst into one of the toilet stalls. For some god-awful

the stall looked like

not physically harm him, but the insult was devastating. His entire face was now smeared with human waste,

knocked him unconscious from sheer

killer, having poop on his face did not faze him much. He only had one job, which was to finish

and violent energy exploded from his arms, revealing bulging muscle and a set of cold, steel combat spikes

let out a short snort and did not back down. Instead,

mid-air, their legs slamming into each other with a

toilet bowl. This time, he let out a furious, guttural

ankles, chest, any spot that could kill

was ruthless. If even one landed, it would have

weapon was not for amateurs; only military specialists or high-level assassins could wield it with such

a shadow. He weaved spun, ducked,

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