Lockeide was the leader of the Jewish Gang. At least in the Southeast District, there were not many people who dared make him wait.
Other than his most beloved woman and his own children, no one dared make him wait either.
So upon hearing this, Soap had no choice but to rise from his seat and apologize. "Sorry, maybe something held up the Patrol Team. Should I send someone to hurry them along?"
"What could possibly be more important than this afternoon's matter?" the middle-aged Jewish man said bluntly. "We notified them five days in advance. Even if something really came up, five days should have been enough to deal with it."
"Well..." Soap did not know how to respond and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
"You've done so much lately. Do you really think everyone else is blind? We invited him here to give him a chance to explain himself in person. If he doesn't want that chance, then we'd naturally be happy to move on to the next stage."
The threat in the middle-aged Jewish man's words was already obvious.
Soap was suffering in silence. He had no idea what Zhang Heng was planning, so he did not know how to help smooth this over.
Fortunately, at that moment, Zhang Heng—the man at the center of this gathering—finally appeared outside the tavern.
Everyone in the tavern had been waiting for a long time. They had also been ready to let Zhang Heng and his men experience the same united hostility that Soap had felt before.
Yet when Zhang Heng's group of three appeared, they found that the insults they had prepared would not come out.
The three men outside were all dressed in Patrol Team uniforms, wearing brand-new armor and carrying sharp weapons, armed to the