Swish! Swish! The bald man, face fierce, pulled out a folding knife and swung it back and forth in the air. The green-haired thug somehow produced an iron rod, glaring menacingly at Emily Clark, while the voluptuous woman put two fingers in her mouth and blew a whistle.

Suddenly, five shadows ran over from the darkness not far away, gradually revealing a bunch of thug faces, each holding an iron rod.

Emily Clark's expression changed slightly, while David Sullivan's entire face turned deathly pale, his legs trembling.

“Baldy!” those people called out to the bald man first, then glanced disdainfully at Emily Clark and David Sullivan, finally fixing their gaze on the red-haired thug who was clutching his leg and groaning on the ground.

“Red, red, you useless bastard, you actually got taken down by this pretty boy!” a buck-toothed thug pointed at the red-haired guy and mocked him with a stutter.

The bald man slapped the buck-toothed guy on the head and cursed, “What the hell are you yapping about!”

He was involved too—if buck-tooth insulted red-hair, wasn’t he insulting him as well?

After getting slapped by the bald man, buck-tooth finally noticed the knife in his hand and didn’t dare make another sound. The other four also wiped the disdain off their faces, their eyes turning vicious as they stared at Emily Clark, while the trembling David Sullivan was automatically ignored.

“Kid, if you don’t cough up thirty thousand right now, don’t even think about leaving here!” the bald man threatened fiercely.

He could tell that Emily Clark had some skills; otherwise, he would have beaten him up first and talked money later.

Emily Clark's gaze remained icy cold. In his life, he’d weathered countless storms and killed more people than he could count. If he weren’t down on his luck now, if he didn’t want to ruin his current life, he would have started killing long ago without a second thought.

But right now, Emily Clark didn’t want to make things bigger than they already were; he still hoped to end things peacefully. So he said, “Baldy, is this really necessary? You hit my friend, I hit your guy—let’s call it even for today, how about it?”

“Ha!” The thugs all burst out laughing, even the bald man joined in.

The laughter made the fat guy’s hair stand on end. He tugged gently at Emily Clark’s sleeve and whispered, “Ziqing, just pay up and avoid trouble!”

Even though David Sullivan spoke softly, the bald man and his crew still heard him in the night, and their laughter grew even more unrestrained. As they laughed, they tapped their iron rods lightly against their palms.

“Laugh, laugh your damn head off!” A cold voice rang out—Emily Clark was like a beast in the night, finally baring his chilling fangs.

In a flash, before anyone could react, the bald man felt a suffocating force, like a gust of wind, slam into his stomach.

In a split second, Emily Clark’s foot smashed into the bald man’s belly. The big man’s body flew two meters through the air before crashing to the ground with a thud, landing on all fours like a fat pig, groaning in pain.

“Baldy!” the fat woman screamed first.

The others snapped out of their shock. The green-haired guy tried to swing his iron rod, but a huge force wrenched it from his grip—his palm burned, and suddenly the rod was gone.

Before green-hair could recover from his shock, he heard the sound of the rod slicing through the air, then felt it slam into his back four or five times in quick succession. It felt like his bones were about to shatter, the pain was searing, and he couldn’t help but collapse to the ground, screaming in agony.

David Sullivan stared in disbelief as Emily Clark grabbed the iron rod and started beating the thugs over the head and body.

Even though the thugs also had iron rods, in front of Emily Clark they were as helpless as unarmed women and children. In no time, they all threw away their rods, clutching their heads and rolling on the ground.

In just a moment, all the thugs were down, leaving only the fat woman standing there, pale and trembling.

“Drop the rod or I’ll cripple him!”

While David Sullivan was still staring in shock, the bald man suddenly sprang up from the ground, pressing the knife to David Sullivan’s neck and shouting at Emily Clark, trying to sound fierce but clearly lacking confidence.

“Fine, I’ll drop it!” Emily Clark immediately tossed the iron rod aside. He wasn’t sure he could take down the bald man before he used the knife.

“Beat him! Beat him good!” the bald man shouted at the thugs still groaning on the ground.

The thugs staggered to their feet, picked up their iron rods, and started raining blows down on Emily Clark. Even the woman joined in, kicking him several times.

“Ha! Kid, you think you’re tough? Do you even know whose turf this is? Beat him! Beat him good!” The bald man, seeing Emily Clark curled up on the ground with his head covered, let his pride get the better of him and shouted gleefully.

“Baldy, please, stop hitting him! I have money, I’ll call my old man right now—fifty thousand, no, a hundred thousand, two hundred thousand if you want! I know my dad has savings, I’m his only son, he’ll definitely bring it!” David Sullivan, who usually forgot his friends when he saw a pretty face, was now heartbroken, wishing he could take the beating for Emily Clark. Snot and tears streaming down his face, he begged and pleaded.