Chapter 163 The Might of a True Powerhouse

• In an instant, the underlings of the Black Dragon Society standing behind were mowed down by the airborne Pang Jun. In the blink of an eye, that terrifying force knocked over more than sixty of them—like bowling pins. The scene was so shocking it left everyone completely stunned. One flying kick sending a man through the air was wild enough, but the impact kept going like a truck plowing through a crowd. Pure terror. It didn’t just floor the Black Dragon Society. Even the guys from the Green Justice Society were dumbstruck. Could a human really do this? Just how strong was this guy? No wonder their president treated him with so much respect. Meng Fei’s eyes burned with feverish awe. He almost dropped to his knees to shout praises to the master. He was so damn proud he could explode. He even wanted to start a live stream right now and yell to the viewers, “Look, that’s my boss—our Primordial Palace master!” After a brief silence, the remaining Black Dragon Society members roared and swarmed forward. Sure, Timothy was a monster, but there’s that saying—no hero can stand against a crowd. If they all piled on, wouldn’t he die too? Meng Fei saw them still daring to rush in, and he raised his hand to let his brothers charge with blades drawn—only to have Timothy stretch out a hand and stop him. Meng Fei froze, caught Timothy’s intent, and immediately pressed his palm down, holding back the eager Green Justice Society members behind him. Timothy stood alone at the front, a towering presence. One man holding the pass, a thousand men unable to break through. His eyes sharpened. Thud, thud, thud! Three dull cracks, three kicks in a row, three screams. The three men in the lead flew back and slammed into another large cluster. What was supposed to be a massive one-against-many brawl… ended in just three kicks. Because no one from the Black Dragon Society dared to step forward anymore. Timothy pulled out his phone. Standing alone like a wall, he held the screen toward the men groaning on the ground and said loudly, “Someone step up and tell me—who knows the people in this photo?” The picture Martha sent wasn’t complete. It only showed half the bodies of two burly men, and their faces were in profile. Unless you knew them, it was hard to tell who they were. A short guy on Timothy’s right glanced at the photo and felt a jolt of recognition. He shuffled closer, trembling, looked again, and stammered, “B-b-bro, I… I know him…” Timothy’s gaze snapped to him, and the man almost collapsed on the spot. “B-b-bro, that one’s my childhood buddy. He’s one of the president’s bodyguards. The two of them are always with the president, I—” That confirmed it for Timothy. Looked like Noreen’s kidnapping really did involve the Black Dragon Society. He glared at the group and said in a low voice, “Tell your president this: if he doesn’t show up in ten minutes, I’ll blow up his Black Dragon Society.” These guys lived on the edge, sure, but no one actually wanted to die. Everyone wanted to make money. With things getting this real, their first instinct was to cave. They stared at each other, scared out of their minds, and looked to their vice president, Pang Jun. Pang Jun wasn’t just the VP—he was also the president’s younger brother. At a time like this, contacting the boss should be his job. But when they looked over at Pang Jun lying amid the bodies, they jumped. Pang Jun was dead. His chest was caved in like he’d been hit by a massive truck. Timothy’s kick had been that heavy—his heart exploded. Dead as a doornail. That kick carried Timothy’s personal rage. The Black Dragon Society ran human trafficking. They deserved no mercy. He might not hate gambling, sex work, and drugs the most, but traffickers? He loathed them to the core. Human traffickers shatter families, leave parents who lost their kids living worse than death. For scum who do that, even a lake of fire would be too kind. Killing their number two today was payback for all the children they’d sold. Pang Jun was dead, but his phone still worked. One coward snatched it up and dialed the president, Pang Hui. At that moment, Pang Hui sat in a car, smoking, pissed off. Because of his carelessness earlier that night, Noreen had almost escaped. If not for help from the Holy Cult’s believers, the whole thing would’ve tanked. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he might still get blamed for it—and he’d even gotten punched by Noreen. He was fuming. Then his phone rang. The caller ID showed his brother. “Yeah? What is it?” Pang Hui’s tone was dark. “P-pre… president, I… I’m not the VP. Something happened…” the underling stammered. “Who the hell are you? What crap happened? Put Jun on!” Pang Hui was already in a foul mood and now he had a stutterer on the line. “The vice president… the vice president is dead!” “What?” Pang Hui shot up from the back seat, no longer slouched. “Say that again!” “The VP is dead. One kick. The guy said if… if you don’t get to the club in ten minutes, he’ll… he’ll blow up the Black Dragon Society…” “Mother—who? Which b*stard? I’ll kill him!” Pang Hui exploded. One thing after another—he was past his limit. He hung up, swung a fist into the driver’s shoulder, and snarled, “Get to the place. Now!” The driver had already been beaten up by Noreen earlier. Taking another punch out of nowhere, he was beyond aggrieved, but he didn’t dare talk back and nodded fast. Pang Hui pulled out his handgun, ready to start a bloodbath the second he stepped out of the car.