“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?

gang members who knew nothing about the world dared to jump in front of Jagoan with guns, and Jagoan would never let

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

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

With a furious grit of his teeth,

He hammered the trigger!

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

Jagoan was about to be

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

enough to render his opponent utterly defenseless. The black man’s hand had lost all strength, unable to squeeze even a grain

bewildered, still had power in his arm, yet his fingers were rebellious.

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

him scrambled, drawing pistols in their panic, preparing

black man’s wrist and

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

five bodies

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

sustain as severe injuries, the sudden and powerful impact felt

battered,

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

Jagoan approached the five, his expression

their refuge in the corner now

been the tough guy had been beaten half to death already, and now all traces of his former fierceness had vanished. His face was etched with

him and delivered a resounding slap across his

throughout the roast

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

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

Comments ()

0/255