President Young understood that look in his eyes before leaving—it meant this kid needed a serious lesson, as long as he didn’t end up dead or crippled.

This kind of Little Walker brat, who doesn’t know his place, is just asking for trouble.

Then, Brother Allen suddenly felt his wrist tighten. Somehow, he was countered, and William Walker immediately stepped forward with his right foot, wedging it between his legs, bent his body backward, and powered through with his waist and back. Before Brother Allen could figure out what was happening, he was sent flying over William Walker’s head, crashing heavily to the ground with a loud “boom.”

For someone who had won the police academy’s grappling and combat championship three years in a row, someone like Allen Grant with mere street skills was really nothing.

He didn’t even qualify to make Officer Walker use an extra move!

With just one shoulder throw, Allen Grant didn’t even make a sound before passing out cold.

The other black-clad bodyguard was standing with his arms crossed, watching the show. In a flash, Brother Allen was finished, lying there like a dead dog, motionless—it was unclear if he’d just fainted or was actually dead.

He was left dumbfounded for a moment.

But for someone to be chosen as Eugene Young’s personal bodyguard, he couldn’t be a total waste. In the eyes of ordinary people, he was a top-tier tough guy, especially quick to react. His shock only lasted a moment; as soon as he saw William Walker’s gaze sweep over, he didn’t hesitate—he drew his dagger with a backhand motion.

A standard military dagger!

The spine was pitch black, the edge gleamed, and the long blood groove was enough to make anyone’s heart race.

He knew what Allen Grant was capable of—definitely not some weakling—yet he hadn’t even put up a fight!

His look at William Walker had already changed, now filled with a wariness and vigilance he couldn’t quite hide, along with a not-so-well-concealed panic.

“Damn, playing with knives again!”

William Walker couldn’t help but spit.

“I hate it when people play with knives in front of me. With your skills, you’re just wasting that blade!”

William Walker said coldly, flipping his wrist to reveal a small knife of his own.

It was also a dagger, but clearly a size smaller than the other’s standard issue, looking quite petite—someone unfamiliar might even mistake it for a fruit knife.

The black-clad bodyguard’s pupils shrank sharply!

He might not be a knife expert, but he knew that anyone who dared to pull out such a “little knife” after seeing his standard dagger was either brainless or extremely confident in their knife skills!

Having witnessed William Walker take down Brother Allen in a single move, the bodyguard figured the latter was much more likely.

“You like playing with knives, huh? Fine, I’ll play with you!”

William Walker narrowed his eyes, shifted his feet, and lunged forward, the short blade in his hand tracing a bright arc through the air.

“Shit—”

The black-clad bodyguard was terrified, never expecting William Walker to move so fast, so agilely.

He’d fought plenty of street fights with knives before, but real “knife fights” were rare, and he’d never seen anyone as fierce as William Walker. His knife work was smooth and fluid—one look and you could tell they weren’t even on the same level.

So the knife fight never really got going; after just a few exchanges, the bodyguard was completely thrown off. If this were a real battlefield, he probably wouldn’t have blocked even a single strike—William Walker would have slit his throat the moment he made a move.

“Shhk—”

The short dagger sliced across the bodyguard’s knife-wielding wrist, blood spurting out.

“Clang—”

The standard dagger clattered to the ground. The bodyguard clutched his right wrist with his left hand, trembling all over, but his feet seemed glued to the floor—he didn’t dare move an inch.

The gleaming dagger was pressed right against his neck; he could feel the bone-chilling cold of the blade.

“Damn! With skills like that, you’re absolute trash. Don’t you dare play with knives again, you hear me?”

“If I catch you playing with knives again, I’ll cripple you!”

William Walker was thoroughly annoyed.

He’d thought he’d found a worthy opponent to have some fun with, but who knew he’d be this lousy!

“Yeah, yeah, got it, got it…”

The bodyguard, drenched in sweat, nodded frantically in fear.

“Get lost!”

William Walker took the opportunity to kick the poor guy hard, sending him sprawling to the ground.

This twenty-year-old body really was something—compared to a forty-year-old’s, it was way more agile. If it were in the future, it would actually be a bit tricky for Officer Walker to take down two black-clad bodyguards so cleanly.

It wasn’t until now that Eugene Young had even reached his shiny black Mercedes. Instinctively sensing something was wrong behind him, he stopped and turned to look back.

He saw a pair of mocking eyes and a wickedly smiling face.

William Walker just had that naturally taunting air about him.

Eugene Young was startled.

How was this guy still standing?

Looking closer, both his bodyguards were already lying on the ground, with Allen Grant completely motionless—his fate unknown.

“President Young, if I were you, I wouldn’t be so confident. For something this important, you really ought to handle it yourself—leaving it to bodyguards is just too unreliable.”

William Walker grinned and spoke, slowly walking forward.

Eugene Young couldn’t help but take a step back, a flash of panic quickly crossing his face.

“What do you want?”

Don’t be fooled by Eugene Young’s tall and burly build—he wasn’t much of a fighter.

President Young was all about “brains over brawn.”

William Walker had taken out his two bodyguards so quickly that Eugene Young hadn’t even had time to mentally prepare. It was only now that he remembered—the kid in front of him was a police academy student.