"Heh, Qinglong Gang," sneered Zhang Xiaomeng as he suddenly appeared in front of Brother Bao, his large hand clutching the man's throat and lifting him up, "What's the Qinglong Gang? In my eyes, they're trash."
Brother Bao struggled in Zhang Xiaomeng's grip, not even able to speak.
With a slight exertion of force, Zhang Xiaomeng snapped his neck with a crack.
Brother Bao was dead.
The members of the Qinglong Gang were truly scared out of their wits now.
They seemed to have lost their backbone.
None dared to provoke Zhang Xiaomeng any further.
"What the hell kind of person is he, not even afraid of bullets," Scarface thought, his palms sweating, "Damn, I'm glad I didn't get involved just now."
Otherwise, it might have been me lying there dead.
Just then, Scarface's phone rang.
A crisp female voice spoke briefly with Scarface before he straightened up and said, "Gentlemen, the Hall Master says that Mr. Zhang is his esteemed guest."
"No disrespect allowed."
