Red nose, potbelly, bleary eyes, slovenly demeanor. Zhang Yuanqing stared at the middle-aged man approaching him and felt that the man's bearing seemed strangely familiar.
Dionysus Club?
Zhang Yuanqing instinctively thought of that foreign Evil Profession.
The two Orderly Profession practitioners, dressed like workplace elites in black suits and white shirts, immediately noticed the potbellied man.
The middle-aged man carrying a briefcase warily stopped in his tracks, while the refined young man took the initiative to step forward, pressing a hand against his lower back as he did so.
It was a warning gesture police officers made before drawing their guns.
"Sir, I'm an undercover airport police officer. Please stop moving and submit to an inspection," the fair-skinned, refined young man called out.
He had just gotten off the plane, so there was no way he could have been carrying a gun. He looked young, but he acted shrewdly and with experience.
Just as the distance between them closed, the young man suddenly stumbled as though someone had tripped him. He fell flat on his face, landing right at the potbellied man's feet.
Bang!
The potbellied man's leather boot viciously kicked the young man in the jaw, knocking him unconscious.
So he really was a Drunkard. Zhang Yuanqing, standing some distance away, nodded slightly, confirming that his judgment had been correct.
When the middle-aged man with the briefcase saw his companion subdued in an instant, his pupils contracted.
He did not try to fight the enemy or rescue his companion. Instead, he rapidly waved his left hand several times.
Whoosh~
The airflow condensed into two crescent-shaped wind blades, one high and one low, slicing toward the potbellied man.
Without waiting to see the result, the middle-aged man with the slightly receding hairline fled in the opposite direction, briefcase in hand.