Several pieces of trash had Chen Mo cornered in the alley, fantasizing from time to time about how much red packet money they would get today, how long they could enjoy themselves with it, and so on. Just thinking about it made them drool!
Chen Mo found these fellows rather amusing too, especially Greenbottle Fly. He swaggered over like one of those street punks in Chinese short videos, surrounded by a bunch of subordinates who twirled their knives as they walked.
That bobbing green hair, those uneven shoulders, and those legs that trembled three times with every step—this was more entertaining than a circus clown act!
After sighing at the sight, Chen Mo compared their little knives with his own and drew the four-foot-long Onimaru Sword from behind his back.
Ever since he had left Japan, this sword had been left unused. A fine blade needed maintenance, and a blade like Onimaru, one that had taken lives, needed to be nourished with hot blood.
Greenbottle Fly had only just approached Chen Mo and was about to speak when a pain struck his chest. Looking down, he discovered that this Han Chinese had stabbed him through the heart with a sword.
"You...!" Greenbottle Fly wanted to say something, but darkness began closing in on his vision. The world was so beautiful, yet he was about to leave it? He had just planned to act tough for a while, but this Han Chinese had not even let him speak before finishing him off?
Since when had Han Chinese become so decisive? Weren't they a bunch of cowards? Whenever they ran out of money, they only needed to scare some Han Chinese and could extort money from them. So what was this now?
Damn it, how had this fellow produced such a long