“Holy hell!” The man’s fingers trembled, poised dangerously close to the trigger.

He was a tempest in human form.

Bouncing within a three-meter radius, he muttered darkly. “Ending this bastard now. Instantly! Instantly!”

A sly wink rallied his followers, who promptly sealed the goose shop’s fate.

With the door secured, the man’s gun zeroed in on Charlie’s brow, chilling intent in his voice, “Chinese love tempting gun barrels. I’ve put down many like you. One more won’t change a thing. Any final words, speak them now.”

“Final words?” Charlie jeered, disdain dripping from his words. “You’re a farce, not a threat.”

He rapped the table with a smirk. “Jordan, my meal. Chop chop!”

Jordan rushed from the kitchen, clutching a bowl of roast goose rice, his words a jumble. “Mr. Wade… Here’s your rice…”

In one Swift motion, the black man sent the entire meal scattering, “You’re thinking of a feast at death’s door?!” he thundered.

He swung his weapon towards the fallen bowl, squeezing the trigger. The gunshot rang out, shattering the plastic container and sending Jordan into a quaking fit.

Hogan, on the sidelines, remained unfazed. He was aware that these men were nothing more than insignificant specks compared to Charlie.

The Burning Angel?

A sideshow compared to him.

The Joules family, a powerful dynasty in New York, had no influence as Charlie mercilessly shot Patrick Joules right in front of them.

Who in the Joules clan would dare oppose him? When Charlie asked Patrick’s father, grandfather, and great-grandfather Joules whether they were convinced that he killed Patrick, who would dare to say no?

Now, a few gang members who knew nothing about the world dared to jump in front of Jagoan with guns, and Jagoan would never let them have an easy time.

The leader locked eyes with Jagoan, who showed no fear. Instead, he turned to Jordan and said, “Bring me another bowl. This swill’s a waste. I’ll make him kneel like a dog, licking every grain off the floor.”

trigger, yet Jagoan remained unfazed. Fear tinged the edges of his bravado, tangled with his

of his teeth, he spat, “Chinese man!

He hammered the trigger!

shut, while the black man’s companions retreated a few steps. They saw their boss’s

Jagoan was about to be shot, the black man’s eyes

trigger, he muttered, “What’s happening…

of energy, enough to render his opponent utterly defenseless. The black man’s hand had lost all strength, unable to

grain of rice.

power in his arm, yet his fingers were

calmly and confidently inspected the sleek Italian M9 pistol, “If God wants to see me, he’ll have to come to me,

scrambled, drawing pistols

wrist and swinging him like a baseball

could draw their weapons, a massive, dark force slammed into them from the side. Before they could react, they were sprawled on the

five bodies lay wailing in

most. His right arm hung by threads, cheekbones, ribs,

the sudden and

and battered, they

person could wield such incredible power. They knew, deep down, that they’d encountered a master.

the

in the corner now

man who had once been the tough guy had been beaten half to death already, and now all traces of his

him and delivered a resounding slap across his

throughout the

came

cry and plead with Jagoan. “I’m sorry, truly sorry. I had no idea you knew kung fu,

his brow and delivered another stinging

the eardrums of the

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255