“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.”

crumbled. He’d pulled the trigger, yet Jagoan remained unfazed.

sound. With a furious grit of his teeth, he spat, “Chinese man! Since you court death, I’ll deliver

He hammered the trigger!

their boss’s murderous intent. At

thought Jagoan was about to

“What’s happening… Why can’t I… Why can’t I pull

steady. He’d only exerted a minuscule amount of energy, enough to render his opponent utterly defenseless. The black man’s hand had lost all strength, unable to squeeze

grain of rice.

still had power in his arm, yet his fingers were rebellious. In his panic, Jagoan

sleek Italian M9 pistol, “If God wants to see me, he’ll have to

men behind him scrambled, drawing pistols in

the black man’s wrist and swinging him like a

force slammed into them from

bodies lay wailing in the

was tossed suffered the most. His right arm hung by threads, cheekbones, ribs, and leg bones

injuries, the

and battered, they

never imagined an ordinary person could wield such incredible power. They knew, deep down, that they’d encountered a master. Perhaps this was a legendary Kung

the five, his expression

back, their refuge in

had been beaten half to death already, and now

stared at him and delivered a

sharp crack reverberated throughout the

a wry smile, “The underworld, huh? And the Burning Angels… Who came up with such a ridiculous name? Look at

now was cry and plead with Jagoan. “I’m sorry, truly sorry. I had no idea you knew kung fu, please, let us go, we’ll never

his brow and delivered

grated on the eardrums

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