“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?

about the world dared to jump in front of Jagoan with guns,

Jordan and said, “Bring me another bowl. This swill’s a waste. I’ll make him kneel like a dog, licking every

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

without sound. With a furious grit of his teeth, he spat, “Chinese man!

He hammered the trigger!

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

was about to be shot, the

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

smile held 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 even

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

“If God wants to see me, he’ll have

black-clad men behind him scrambled, drawing pistols in their panic,

seizing the black man’s wrist

could draw their weapons, a massive, dark force slammed into them from the side. Before they

an instant, five bodies lay wailing in

most. His right arm hung by threads, cheekbones, ribs, and leg bones shattered.

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

battered,

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

approached the

shrank back, their refuge in the corner now

death already, and now all traces of his former fierceness had vanished. His face was etched with

delivered

reverberated throughout the roast

a wry smile, “The underworld, huh? And the Burning Angels… Who came

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