“Shut your filthy mouth, and wait until I’ve had my fill of beating you before you speak.” The bald man raised the knife handle and struck it toward David Sullivan’s head.

At that moment, as Emily Clark clutched his head and screamed in pain, a cold glint suddenly flashed in his eyes.

Then, a metal rod whooshed through the darkness, striking the knife with a crack, sending it flying five meters away onto the ground.

Next, Emily Clark leapt out from among the thugs like a leopard, a metal rod in hand, darting toward the bald man with lightning speed.

Chapter 8: Who’s Extorting Whom

Bang! Emily Clark kicked the bald man flying once again, then swung the metal rod in his hand down hard onto the bald man’s foot.

With a crunch, the bald man let out a shrill, miserable scream that echoed under the pitch-black overpass, sending chills down anyone who heard it.

Fortunately, the East Bus Station was a place full of shady characters, and fights broke out every few days, so no one paid much attention. People just heard the noise and took a detour.

But Emily Clark didn’t seem satisfied at all. His dark eyes radiated an icy, murderous glare as he rained down blows on the bald man, cursing, “You want a good fight? Fine, let’s have a good fight!”

Back in the day, he was a force to be reckoned with—even immortals would steer clear of Emily Clark. Who would have thought he’d be ganged up on by a bunch of thugs today? How could Emily Clark not be furious?

Watching the bald man clutch his head and wail on the ground, the other thugs—already injured—finally showed fear in their eyes. They wanted to rush in and help, but remembering Emily Clark’s skills just now, and seeing the murderous intent on his handsome face, they hesitated and dared not approach.

Since they didn’t come forward, Emily Clark wouldn’t let them off either. Once the bald man could only crawl on the ground, Emily Clark started walking step by step toward the other thugs.

Swinging the metal rod, Emily Clark advanced menacingly, exuding a chilling aura of death—the kind only someone who had survived countless bloody battles and crawled out from piles of corpses could possess. These thugs were only used to street fights; they’d never truly killed anyone.

Seeing Emily Clark approach with a calm expression, their legs began to tremble uncontrollably, even worse than David Sullivan earlier. The voluptuous woman squeezed her pale thighs together tightly, feeling like she might wet herself.

As Emily Clark drew near, they finally lashed out like cornered beasts, swinging their metal rods wildly at him.

At this point, Emily Clark showed no mercy. He charged into the crowd like a gust of wind, swinging his metal rod at anyone in his way. With every blow, there was a scream and someone fell to the ground.

In the blink of an eye, all seven thugs were down, each with a broken leg. Only the voluptuous woman, her makeup-caked face pale, was left backing away step by step.

Emily Clark shot her a cold glance and said, “Don’t think I won’t hit women. If you’re a filthy woman, I’ll hit you all the same!”

With that, he kicked her in the stomach, then broke one of her fat legs just like the others.

After dealing with them, Emily Clark slowly walked toward David Sullivan, who was staring at him in shock as if seeing a stranger, and the bald man lying beside him.

Emily Clark bent down, picked up the small knife from the ground, and then walked step by step toward the bald man lying there.

The bald man felt a murderous aura that chilled him to his very soul.

“What do you want?” the bald man rasped, nearly hysterical, his fat body trembling in pain as he tried to crawl away, as if that could save him from Emily Clark.

“What do I want? Don’t you like using knives? Then let you have a taste of your own medicine!” Emily Clark squatted in front of the bald man, knife in hand.

That young, scholarly face now looked like a demon to the bald man, making him too terrified to look directly at him, his whole body shaking.

“No, please!” the bald man almost sobbed.

“I told you earlier we’d call it even, but you wouldn’t listen. Now it’s too late!” Emily Clark said coolly. Suddenly, he stabbed the knife into the bald man’s palm.

“Ah!” the bald man screamed again, blood streaming down the knife and quickly staining his whole hand red.

But Emily Clark seemed not to notice at all. He casually pulled the knife out, his gaze cold and numb, as if he’d seen this kind of thing countless times before.

The bald man finally sensed the presence of death. This time, he was truly afraid. Compared to the other thugs, he’d seen a bit more of the world. He’d seen the look in the eyes of Brother Huzi, the boss of the East District, when he killed someone—and it was just like the look in the eyes of this seemingly gentle young man before him.

Cold and merciless!

“Please, boss, spare me! Please!” Seeing Emily Clark calmly pick up the knife again, the bald man began to wail, “Money, money, I’ll give you money, okay? Please, don’t cripple my hand!”

A strange glint flashed in Emily Clark’s deep eyes. He reached out and patted the bald man’s chubby cheek, smiling, “Well, you’re the one offering me money of your own accord!”