“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.”

He’d pulled the trigger, yet Jagoan remained unfazed. Fear tinged the edges of his

wide, lips flapping without sound. With a furious grit of his teeth, he spat, “Chinese man! Since you court death,

He hammered the trigger!

They saw their boss’s murderous intent. At

Jagoan was about to be shot, the black

he muttered, “What’s happening… Why can’t I… Why can’t I

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

grain of rice.

arm, yet his fingers were rebellious. In his panic, Jagoan

confidently inspected the sleek Italian M9 pistol, “If God wants to

him scrambled, drawing pistols

seizing the black man’s wrist

them from the side. Before they could react,

an instant, five bodies lay

right arm hung by threads, cheekbones, ribs, and leg bones shattered. Countless fractures crisscrossed

injuries, the sudden and powerful impact felt like a high-speed car

battered, they

imagined an ordinary person could wield such incredible power. They knew, deep down, that they’d encountered a master. Perhaps this

the five,

their refuge in

guy had been beaten half to death already, and now all traces of his former fierceness had

at him and delivered a

crack reverberated throughout the roast

underworld, huh? And the Burning Angels… Who came up with such a ridiculous name? Look

was cry and plead with Jagoan. “I’m

and delivered another stinging

grated on the eardrums

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

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