“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 Jagoan’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?” Jagoan 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. Jagoan… 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 Jagoan.

The Burning Angel?

A sideshow compared to him.

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

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

world dared to jump in front of Jagoan with guns, and Jagoan would never let

he turned to Jordan and said, “Bring me another bowl. This swill’s a waste. I’ll make him kneel like a

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

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

He hammered the trigger!

saw their boss’s murderous intent. At this point, revulsion painted their faces, anticipating the spray of

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

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

opponent utterly defenseless. The black man’s hand had lost all

power in his arm, yet his fingers were

inspected the sleek Italian M9 pistol, “If God wants to see me, he’ll have to come to me, not

drawing pistols in

seizing the black man’s wrist

weapons, a massive, dark force slammed into them from the side. Before

five bodies lay

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

the other four didn’t sustain as severe injuries, the sudden and powerful impact felt like a

and battered, they

ordinary person could wield such incredible power. They knew, deep down, that

Jagoan approached the five, his

in the corner now

had once been the tough guy had been beaten half to death already, and now

stared at him and delivered a

crack reverberated throughout the

swelled, Jagoan offered a wry smile, “The underworld, huh? And the Burning Angels… Who came up with such a ridiculous name? Look at that grizzled mug of yours—does it have

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

Comments ()

0/255