I couldn't take it anymore; when I went home for Chinese New Year, the family genealogy book ha

Huang Mao had been running for less than ten minutes when all the stray dogs on the old street started barking wildly.

First came the sporadic sounds of motorcycle engines, surging in from all directions of the alley. Then came the sounds of people, noisy and rude, mixed with local dialect and broken Chinese curses.

Wang Dagou was the first to hear the commotion, and his expression changed.

"Brother Chen, they're here. Not just three or five, but a whole bunch."

Jiang Chen raised his head and looked at both ends of the alley.

At the western alley entrance, a dark mass of figures had already blocked the way. The leader was carrying a machete, followed by those carrying iron bars and steel pipes, some clutching chains that rattled as they walked.

The situation wasn't much better at the east alley entrance. Dozens of motorcycles were parked sideways, and the riders—all tattooed, shirtless young men—had jumped off, completely blocking the only escape route.

A quick glance suggests there are at least three or four hundred people on both ends combined.

Jiang Ming's legs went weak on the spot, and he sat down on the ground with a thud.

"It's over...it's Ah Wang's gang...they're all here..."

Jiang Yaohua's face was as white as paper. The 96-year-old man swayed twice, then gripped Jiang Chen's arm tightly.

"Children! Run! You can escape by climbing over the wall from behind!" The old man's voice was hoarse as he desperately pushed Jiang Chen forward. "They're a gangster in this area, they kill without blinking an eye! I'll fight them with my old bones! You take our brother and get out of here!"

Jiang Wanshan took a step forward with his cane, but Jiang Chen stopped him.

The six members of the security team had automatically formed a defensive circle. Ding Xiu stood on the outermost edge, his thermos cup placed on the ground.

This was the first time he had put down his thermos.

The crowd was separated.

A bald man slowly walked out from the west alley entrance.

The bald man was less than 1.7 meters tall, but very broad. He wore two thick gold chains around his neck and had an unlit cigar in his mouth. He was followed by four bodyguards, each with bulging waists.

The bald man walked up to the soy milk stall, glanced at the overturned iron pot and the soy milk residue scattered on the ground, and then looked at Jiang Chen and his group standing in the middle of the stall.

He took the cigar out of his mouth and pointed it at Jiang Chen.

"So you're the one who hit my brother?"

Jiang Chen didn't say anything.

The bald man grinned, revealing a row of gold-plated teeth: "From China? You've got guts. In the North District, the last guy who dared to mess with my Awang Gang brothers is still lying at the bottom of the sea feeding fish."

He held up one finger and drew a circle in the air.

"Today's simple. One million dollars to save your lives. Not a penny less. Otherwise, none of you dozens of people will leave this street alive."

Upon hearing this, three or four hundred thugs began banging steel pipes on the ground.

The clanging sound echoed through the narrow alley, like some kind of primitive war drum.

Wang Dagou's fists clenched so tightly they cracked, and the veins on his forehead bulged.

Six security guards were ready for battle. But there were hundreds of people on the other side, and an unknown number of knives.

Ding Xiu took a step forward.

The bald man noticed him and waved, "What? One against a hundred? Watched too many movies?"

Jiang Chen reached out and pressed down on Ding Xiu's shoulder.

"Need not."

He took out his phone, found an international number, and pressed the call button.

beep - beep -

"Boss."

The voice on the other end of the phone was cold and crisp, with a standard British accent.

"Charles," Jiang Chen said, "it's time for the $50 million deposit I transferred to your security company to come in handy."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"coordinate?"

"The old soy milk stall in Chinatown, North District. Clear the area within five minutes."

"receive."

The phone hangs up.

The bald man listened to the whole thing and laughed so hard he bent over.

"Hahahaha! Call for backup? Call whom?" He spread his arms wide, gesturing arrogantly, "This is the North District! My Awang Gang's territory! Here, even the police don't dare to interfere! Even if you call your Chinese embassy, ​​today—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

Because a sound came from the sky.

It wasn't thunder.

It's a rotor.

"Boom boom boom—!"

A deafening roar of engines exploded overhead, and everyone instinctively looked up.

Three armed helicopters painted in dark gray camouflage suddenly pulled up from behind the surrounding rooftops and hovered in formation less than fifty meters above the old street.

The wind whipped up by the rotor blades was like a typhoon passing through, blowing up scraps of paper, plastic bags, and dust from the ground.

The thugs' hair and clothes were blown wildly by the wind, and several of them were forced back two steps by the wind pressure.

The bald man's cigar was blown away by the wind.

Immediately afterwards—

A muffled engine roar came from the western alleyway.

"boom!"

A black, heavily armored SUV rammed into the alley, crushing a motorcycle parked on the side of the road. The motorcycle was pushed to the sides like it was made of paper, the screeching sound of twisting metal echoing through the alley.

The second one. The third one. The fourth one.

The same sound came from the alleyway to the east.

Eight armored off-road vehicles simultaneously charged in from both ends, knocking the thugs who were blocking the road to their deaths.

The car door popped open.

More than 100 fully armed security personnel jumped out of the vehicle.

Tactical helmets, bulletproof vests, and fully automatic rifles. Everyone's movements were textbook perfect—landing, raising the gun, aiming, all in one fluid motion.

The infrared laser sight on the muzzle of the gun lit up.

Dense red dots covered the bald man and the thugs' chests, foreheads, and hearts.

A red dot represents a bullet.

The alleyway was quiet.

Absolute, deathly silence.

The three or four hundred thugs, who had been so arrogant just moments before, were all stunned.

The machete in someone's hand began to tremble and fell to the ground with a clatter.

After the first knife fell, it was like dominoes.

"Clang." "Clang." "Scratching."

Iron bars, steel pipes, chains, and machetes were scattered all over the ground with a clatter.

A young thug couldn't stop crying, and urine flowed down his trouser leg and onto the ground.

The helicopter rotors were still roaring overhead.

The infrared aiming points looked like a swarm of red fireflies, densely packed and completely still.

A tall, white man in full tactical gear stepped out of the lead armored vehicle. He removed his tactical helmet, revealing short, grey-blonde hair and a angular face.

Military boots trod over machetes and steel pipes scattered on the ground.

She walked up to Jiang Chen.

Stand at attention. Salute.

"Boss! Chinatown in the North District has been cleared! The target area is now under complete control! Please provide further instructions!"

Charles's voice was loud and clear, with the distinctive strength of a professional soldier.

The bald boss's knees looked like they'd had bones removed.

"thump--"

He knelt directly on the ground, which was covered with mud, water, and soybean residue.

My crotch was soaked.