“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?

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

leader locked eyes with Jagoan, who showed no fear. Instead, he turned to Jordan and said, “Bring me another bowl. This

man’s composure crumbled. He’d pulled the trigger, yet Jagoan remained unfazed. Fear tinged the edges of

of his teeth, he spat, “Chinese man! Since you court death, I’ll deliver you

He hammered the trigger!

They saw their boss’s murderous intent. At this point,

about to be

“What’s happening… Why can’t I… Why

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

his arm, yet his fingers were rebellious. In his panic, Jagoan reached out and wrenched

God wants to see me, he’ll have to come to me, not the other

scrambled, drawing pistols in their panic,

the black man’s wrist and swinging

force slammed into them from the side. Before they could react, they were sprawled on

five bodies lay wailing in the

His right arm hung by threads,

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

battered, they

wield such incredible power. They knew, deep down, that they’d encountered a master. Perhaps this was a legendary

Jagoan approached the five, his

in

death already, and now all traces of

and delivered a resounding slap

sharp crack reverberated throughout the roast

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

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