Financial Tycoons Think They're So Great? Come See What a Warlord Can Do

"Let's go. Get inside."

After emptying a belt of ammunition, Xitu Ang put away the General machine gun, picked up two submachine guns, loaded their magazines, and led his men into the police headquarters building.

By then, the headquarters building was already in complete chaos. Once Xitu Ang and his men entered, hardly any resistance remained. Most of the South Korean police had gone into hiding or fled for their lives.

It wasn't that there was no one willing to fight to the death, but such people made up an extremely small minority.

Along a passage that had to be crossed to reach the upper floors, a policeman hid nervously behind a door, gripping a pistol tightly. He planned to stick his head out and ambush Xitu Ang's group when they passed.

He had already heard the faint sound of footsteps outside. His breathing grew increasingly heavy, and his body tensed.

Yet just as his heart began pounding faster, an object was suddenly thrown in through the doorway and rolled across the floor.

It was a round grenade covered in little bumps, its surface scored with prefabricated fragmentation grooves.

The instant the policeman recognized it, his mind went completely blank.

Boom!

The floor shook, and smoke from the explosion billowed through the doorway.

Xitu Ang passed by expressionlessly, his submachine gun aimed in another direction.

Two policemen preparing to launch a sneak attack had just exposed themselves when they were met by a storm of submachine-gun fire.

With its terrifying rate of fire, the submachine gun emptied its magazine in seconds. The two policemen who had poked their heads out were riddled like sieves, blood spurting from hole after hole and painting the wall behind them red. They collapsed to the floor like lumps of soft mud.

Nearby, another gene