Lin Fan thought about many things.
At this moment, the desire to survive burst forth like a fountain.
Silver light flickered.
The Frost Mourning, representing the light of righteousness, had appeared.
Its appearance was often a signal for self-defense mode to activate.
A man wielding a machete swung at Lin Fan, and as he came closer, Lin Fan quickly swung the Frost Mourning, slicing the machete in half, but the Frost Mourning was so sharp that it instantly decapitated the man.
Splurt!
Splurt!
Lin Fan swung the Frost Mourning with no particular thought, merely wanting to drive these thugs back.
Blood splattered.
Weapons shattered.
In the brief span of two seconds, all the ferocious mobsters attacking him lay on the ground, and the once orderly hall was covered in blood.
He looked to the stupefied Wang Dafu standing there, the man clutching a cigar between his fingers, his expression blank, completely dumbfounded by the scene before him.
