Finally, Franklin's patience was completely worn out. He shot a cold glare at Edward York and barked out harshly.

"Alright—"

Blondie and Slim responded, raised the knives in their hands, and suddenly charged forward.

Seeing this, Edward York immediately knew that these two guys from the 96 gang were veterans. Even if they hadn't killed before, they had at least been in plenty of fights.

Charging in so aggressively was much harder to deal with than just walking over slowly.

At the very least, it allowed them to build up momentum!

But this level of skill was really nothing special in Edward York's eyes.

They were just a bit stronger than ordinary street thugs, with a little more fighting experience, but still nowhere near the level of a true martial artist.

But Edward York was a genuine martial artist.

He had started training in martial arts at the age of seven, apprenticed under a renowned Tai Chi master, practiced Sanda, and had put in over a decade of hard work. On top of that, he had served three years in the Armed Police Force, won the all-around championship in the corps' major competition. If it weren't for his father's serious illness, which forced him to transfer back to his hometown, he would still be in the force, serving as the unarmed combat instructor for the Special Operations Unit of the Jingjiang Provincial Armed Police Corps.

That was no joke—you had to have real skills.

Otherwise, as an instructor, you'd be schooled by your trainees in no time.

Anyone who knew Edward York's background knew he could fight.

The key was, these thugs had no idea!

Blondie and Eldest Son had no clue at all what kind of person they were up against this time.

When they saw the baton in Edward York's hand, mocking smiles appeared on their faces.

You think you can take on our knives with that little stick?

So what if you're a cop?

Are you invulnerable to blades and bullets?

Let's see how you die!

Honestly, Blondie and Eldest Son really didn't care about Edward York's identity as a police officer. They were here today to kill Grace Bennett, and they had to get it done.

When it comes to killing, the hardest is the first one.

Once you've killed the first, it doesn't matter anymore.

Killing one is killing, killing two is still killing; killing a regular person is killing, killing a cop is also killing!

What's the difference?

So they charged forward with their knives, murderous intent overflowing, eyes full of viciousness.

Edward York could fully sense their undisguised intent to kill.

Blondie and Eldest Son attacked from left and right, sandwiching him in the middle.

"Whoosh—"

The sound of air being sliced rang out.

As the two closed in, Edward York moved.

Edward York's movements looked especially simple, with no fancy tricks, not even any advanced techniques—he just swung the baton in a horizontal sweep.

Yet, despite how simple it looked, Blondie and Eldest Son just couldn't dodge it.

The key was the speed.

Edward York's swing with the baton was absurdly fast.

"Bang—"

A dull thud sounded, followed by a muffled groan.

The baton struck him squarely on the neck, almost sending him flying. He staggered and crashed into Eldest Son beside him.

Blondie's sudden movement caught Eldest Son completely off guard. He didn't even have time to dodge. After all, he was also charging forward with all his might, planning to use the momentum to stab the cop blocking his way.

But now, it was his own companion crashing into him.

Wasn't something wrong here?

That thought flashed through Eldest Son's mind, but before he could react, Blondie slammed into him with great force. With an "Aiya!" Eldest Son lost his balance and toppled to the side.

But that wasn't the end.

Because he was only knocked down, not injured. Under normal circumstances, he could get up quickly.

As he shoved Blondie aside and struggled to his feet, a dark shadow flashed before his eyes.

What the hell?

It was a big foot.

"Crack—"

Eldest Son felt a sharp pain in his face, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out. The sound of his nasal bone breaking was especially loud and shocking in his own ears.

"......"

Franklin stared at all this in bewilderment, unable to process what had just happened.

What on earth had just happened?

He hadn't even seen clearly how Blondie and Eldest Son had been taken down.

Was this some kind of magic trick?

But Edward York clearly had no intention of giving him much time to think. In a flash, he was right in front of him.

"You son of a..."

Franklin was ruthless too. Once he snapped out of it, his first reaction wasn't fear, but to raise the knife in his hand and stab at Edward York.

To be fair, Franklin was quite experienced—he held the knife in a reverse grip.

That way, it would be much harder for the enemy to disarm him.

But Edward York had no intention of taking his knife. Instead, he landed a heavy punch right on his face.

A left hook!

Because Franklin was left-handed and held the knife in his left hand, his right side was wide open. With all his attention on the knife in his left hand, his right side was completely undefended.

In front of an expert like Edward York, no one could afford to make that kind of mistake.

So, Edward York's fist landed hard on his face.