Greg Jensen swept a glance and also couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement—it seemed that the warlord's power here was indeed not small, going so far as to mobilize an entire army. They really did hold him in high regard.
Facing such a predicament, it would have scared anyone else to death.
But Greg Jensen stood there quietly, his face still wore that look of disdain for all beings.
It seemed, he didn't take the opposition seriously at all.
Yana felt utterly disheartened, knowing that there was no way out for them now. Even if they hid in the market now, the heavy weaponry would blow the market to smithereens.
Just then, a jeep slowly approached, protected by a phalanx of tank armor vehicles, and stopped about ten meters from Greg Jensen.
The car door opened, and a middle-aged man dressed in bandit military uniform stepped out, around fifty years old, with sharp eyes and a killing aura, it was clear at a glance that he was an old soldier who had weathered many battles.
