Suddenly Ethan stopped the car and came down.
He paused mid-step, his hand resting lightly on the door handle of his sleek black car. His sharp senses had already caught the rumble of the approaching bus, but he kept his posture relaxed.
At that moment the vehicle screeched to a halt a few meters away, and the doors swung open with a metallic groan.
One by one, men began stepping out, their faces obscured by scarves, their hands gripping a variety of weapons—bats, pipes, and even a few knives.
Ethan didn't know what was going on, however From the look of things, they weren't not here to talk with him.
However Ethan's gaze remained calm, almost indifferent, as the group formed a menacing line in front of him blocking every escape routes. Their leader, a burly man with a scar running from his temple to his jawline, stepped forward.
"You know why we're here," the man growled, his voice carrying a coarse edge.
