A man two meters tall and powerfully built appeared in Maltz's field of vision. His arms were so thick that even his coat could not contain them.
So he had simply torn off the sleeves.
Combined with his height, sturdy build, and exaggerated muscles, this instantly gave him a wild air.
The brazen grin on his face, in particular, made the people walking along West Merck Avenue hurry out of his way, as though terrified of catching his eye.
His forearms are as thick as other people's waists!
That was the old Chief's assessment, and his gaze turned wary.
The pressure exerted by the man's height and muscles was simply too great.
Even the old Chief, a veteran of many battles, felt it.
Especially with the matter of Tate still hanging over him, the old Chief instinctively assumed the man had come for him. Without thinking, he gripped his sword hilt with one hand and lowered the long case from his back with the other-his partner had instructed him to do this. If he encountered a danger he could not handle, he should turn to his "three old friends."
Although the old Chief did not understand why his partner had told him to do this.
He trusted Arthur.
And he trusted his three old friends.
That was why he had deliberately gone home to bring his "three old friends" along.
But the instant the old Chief set the long case down, Freeman's unrestrained grin suddenly froze.
He sensed mortal danger.
It was as though something terrifying had fixed its gaze on him.
If he kept moving carelessly, he would die...
Who was it?
Freeman began searching for the source.
As for Maltz?
Freeman did not believe the old man in front of him could threaten him. Perhaps he had been