A sharp gasp echoed through the warehouse. Many of the men sucked in a breath of cold air. To compare killing to eating bread... Just how twisted was this newcomer? A complete and utter psycho?
And he was wearing a mask from the American Chainsaw Murder Association... This guy had to be a psycho killer who murdered indiscriminately and for fun, right?
"Talk is cheap. Let's see what you've really got."
Brother Jiao had been in the criminal underworld for years and had seen it all. He'd encountered both Ascenders and Corrupters, so he wasn't easily intimidated.
He clenched his fist, and the muscles in his right arm—thicker than an average man's thigh—bulged instantly. He threw a heavy punch straight at Zhou Chen's face, the air whistling as it flew.
Zhou Chen dodged, deflecting Brother Jiao's wrist with his left hand. His right fist shot out like a cannonball, so fast it was just a blur. With a solid THUD, it connected squarely with Brother Jiao's face.
