Hearing Huang Ji's words, Brando's heart lurched.
Musta sneered. "You're betting that I'm bluffing? Hua Ji, I thought you were smart, but smart people often get a little too clever for their own good!"
"Fire a missile if you've got the guts," Huang Ji said gravely. "Let me see it."
"Let's see which is faster—your missile or my sword."
"You've certainly got some backbone!" Musta said coldly.
With that, he backed away until he was more than forty-five meters from Luo Yan, then took out the Command Device.
"He's one of your Double Pupils people. Kill him yourselves. If you can't handle this properly, then both the Medici Family and the Morgan Family can be struck from the rolls."
There was no doubt that the Command Device in his hand could call in a missile strike.
Those words were tantamount to sentencing Huang Ji to death. The members of the Medici Family struck first, closing in to kill him.
But as the S2 fighters swarmed him, a flurry of cracks rang out. Huang Ji struck thirty-six times with his left palm, each blow deflecting an enemy attack while countering with a burst of electricity.
In an instant, the people on Huang Ji's left fell one after another, covering the ground as they wailed and groaned.
His palm strikes seemed almost weightless. Even when they landed, they did not send anyone flying, yet their victims abruptly collapsed, their internal organs seemingly dealt a devastating blow.
One man took a brushing strike from Huang Ji to the chest. The force penetrated deep into his bones, and he felt a prickling energy pass through his ribs, leaving them as brittle as shortbread. The slightest exertion brought piercing pain, and he could muster no strength at all.
Their internal organs seemed to stop responding