Mike's body suddenly lost all strength, and he crumpled limply to the floor.
The light in his eyes slowly began to fade. Staring up at the lights on the ceiling, no one knew what he was thinking.
Perhaps there was shock, and regret as well.
What shocked him was that someone had actually dared to take his life. He came from the most powerful country in the world!
What had happened today was clearly a trap laid specifically for him!
They wanted his life, which meant they had known his true identity before making their move.
Yet they had still done it...
As for regret, he had underestimated his "enemies."
He should have realized long ago that if his side could break the rules and throw the situation into chaos, then their opponents could naturally resort to underhanded tactics as well—or even strike with deadly force!
But it was all too late now...
The bar was dimly lit, and Mike had fallen near the wall. Several other young men were blocking Mike's subordinates on the outside, fighting them in a chaotic brawl.
So no one noticed that Mike was already dead.
The young man was very calm. When he pulled out the dagger, he did not forget to use Mike's clothes to cover the wound and keep the blood from spurting out.
Every one of his strikes had been fatal!
There was no need to worry about whether Mike might survive.
With a deft flick of his wrist, the dagger vanished. Then he turned and joined the brawl beside him.
Mike's men were trading blows with the young men. They were evenly matched, perhaps even holding a slight advantage.
Those young men looked like ordinary street punks. They had no real technique when fighting, relying entirely on brute strength.