Chapter 78

A middle-aged man took out his phone and said, "I'm calling the police, or that young man will be in trouble."

A young man beside him said, "Brother! Don't meddle in other people's business. Such arrogance can only come from the Green Gang." The middle-aged man shuddered and put his phone back in his pocket.

Yang Luo's eyes narrowed slightly as he walked up to the scar-faced man and said, "Go back and tell Kun Si to wash his head and wait for me."

"F*ck your mother, who do you think you are, daring to talk to us like that?" the scar-faced man cursed, his eyes flashing with hostility.

Yang Luo chuckled. The scar-faced man only felt a blur in front of him, and then a strong hand gripped his throat. A cold, emotionless voice whispered in his ear, "No one can talk to me, Yang Luo, like this. You! Can say goodbye to this world."

"Crack"

A terrifying sound of bones breaking echoed, and the scar-faced man's head twisted to one side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Yang Luo threw the body aside and flicked his right arm, causing a tiger-tooth military knife to slide into his hand.

"Today, I'll show you trash what the art of killing is."

"Murder...," a shrill scream, comparable to a soprano, rang out. The crowd immediately became restless, scattering with a rustle and running to the opposite side of the street, watching from a distance.

Yang Luo frowned. The six men standing there felt the无形的气势 (intangible aura) emanating from Yang Luo, making the surrounding air seem to churn, pressing down on them with a suffocating sensation, their chests feeling heavy and oppressed.

Yang Luo's lips curled into a cold smile, "You had the guts to come find me, but you don't have the courage to raise your knives?"

The six men looked at the lifeless body of the scar-faced man on the ground, then at Yang Luo. One of the big men shouted, "F*ck! I've never been afraid of anyone. Brothers, he's just one man; I don't believe he can beat all six of us."

Another big man gritted his teeth and roared, "Kill him." He raised his knife and swung it down at Yang Luo's head. The other five men exchanged glances, shouted in unison, and raised their knives.

Bei Yin Yao, watching from the car, screamed in fear, "Yang Luo, be careful!" Her eyes widened in shock as she shouted.

Yang Luo grabbed the wrist of the first big man holding the knife, and his right hand quickly sliced the military knife across his throat. Then, he pushed off the ground with his left foot, turned half a circle, and faced the second person, the cold blade flashing again at his throat. This was followed by the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth person. When he reached the sixth person, the knife stopped.

At that moment, a strange scene unfolded. Five people's throats split open with a three-centimeter-long seam, perfectly straight like a surgeon's incision. Blood slowly seeped out, and as the cuts grew wider, the blood began to spurt.

"Clang, clang,..."

Five machetes fell to the ground, followed by the bodies of the men, who fell backward, stiff and straight. Even in death, the fear in their eyes did not fade; their eyeballs bulged out, bloodshot.

The last man's body trembled uncontrollably, his eyes filled with terror. A pungent smell filled the air. Yang Luo looked down and saw water marks on the ground, with water still dripping from the man's trouser legs.

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