"Kid, you've got some nerve. Let go of our boss right now."
Bob's henchmen, having seen their boss's neck clutched by this Huaxia man, instantly bristled with anger—over a dozen gun muzzles all aimed at Chen Feng.
Chen Feng not only didn't release Bob but his expression turned ferocious, exuding an undeniable aura as if a king had arrived.
"Bob, tell me where the female journalist is, and I promise to spare your life!"
Chen Feng's words were chilling, and a cold wind seemed to swirl around him. Nobody doubted he was serious, yet in such a situation, how could he be so confident? Was he not afraid of being shot by Bob's men? Even Zhu Fangmei couldn't imagine what Chen Feng might have up his sleeve.
In fact, Chen Feng had no trump card at all. To deal with these rotten sweet potatoes, these stinking eggs, did Caesar the Great need any trump card? If these people required him to have a backup plan, wouldn't that be a joke?
