A gun? Was that a gun?
He actually has a gun?
The middle-aged man, who had been so arrogant and boastful just a moment ago, froze solid, his limbs turning to ice. His greasy face instantly became ashen and bloodless.
CLANG! CLANG!
The men behind him dropped their bats and clubs to the ground, their faces stricken with terror.
"Go on. How do you want to negotiate this?" Yang Hu sneered, tapping the man's forehead with the barrel of the gun.
The middle-aged man trembled violently, cold sweat beading on his brow. Damn you, Wang Qu! What kind of terrifying person have I provoked?
"A misunderstanding! A complete misunderstanding! I—I came to deliver the money!" the man stammered, hastily pulling out a bank card and offering it with trembling hands.
The card held far more than eighty thousand, but he couldn't worry about that now. Could he really expect them to give back the extra money? He wouldn't dare ask even if he had a hundred times more courage!
