“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

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

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

without sound. With a furious grit of his teeth, he spat, “Chinese man! Since you court death, I’ll

He hammered the trigger!

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

thought Jagoan was about to be shot, the

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

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 a

his fingers were rebellious. In his panic, Jagoan reached out and wrenched the gun

M9 pistol, “If God wants to see me, he’ll have to come to me,

behind him scrambled, drawing pistols in

seizing the black man’s wrist

slammed into them from the side. Before they

instant, five bodies lay wailing

man who was tossed suffered the most. His right arm hung by threads, cheekbones, ribs, and leg bones shattered. Countless fractures crisscrossed his

sustain as severe injuries, the sudden and powerful impact

and battered, they lay

knew, deep

approached the five, his expression

refuge in the

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

him and delivered a resounding slap

sharp crack reverberated throughout the

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 anything to do

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