If there was still anyone laughing in the scene, it was only Charles Foster. At some point, a narrow, long steel blade flickering with a cold, ghostly light had appeared in his hand—a Tang sword! The corners of his mouth held a faint, devilish smile. He leapt down from the car hood, flipped his wrist, and the screams were abruptly cut off as the blade mercilessly swept across the throats of four men.

“Ah!” A burly member of the Tiger Gang cried out in shock, raising his gun at Charles Foster and firing.

If it had been anyone else, at such close range, there would have been no way to dodge the bullet. But Charles Foster managed to evade it—after all, he had long trained in close-quarters combat.

The moment the man pulled the trigger, Charles Foster reflexively shrank his body, curling up like a ball of flesh, and rolled forward on the ground.

The bullet nearly grazed his back as it flew by. Though the move looked clumsy, it was extremely effective in real combat. When he steadied himself, he was already at the opponent’s feet, giving the man no chance to fire a second shot. With a swift thrust of his Tang sword, half the blade sank into the man’s abdomen.

The man made two strange gurgling sounds in his throat, then blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His eyes went blank, pausing for a full two seconds before his stiff body crashed to the ground like a small mountain.

The Tiger Gang members had never seen anyone as crazy as Charles Foster, nor had they witnessed such terrifying swordsmanship. But before they could recover, a deafening roar thundered from above.

Their nightmare was only just beginning...

Chapter 8

Everyone looked up to see two black helicopters circling in the sky like monstrous eagles. Before the Tiger Gang could figure out whether the helicopters were friend or foe, the cabin doors slid open and two heavy machine guns extended outward.

“Rat-tat-tat!” Flames burst from the muzzles, and countless bullets rained down from above, blossoming over the Tiger Gang’s heads.

Three-inch-long heavy machine gun rounds packed tremendous power, punching straight through the cars from above. The Tiger Gang could hold out no longer, scattering in all directions, wailing and screaming.

Henry Bennett was invigorated, secretly rejoicing: “Dong-ge is here!” He waved his hand, ordering his men to rescue the wounded brothers while leading a charge against the Tiger Gang. He didn’t dare get too close—after all, bullets have no eyes, and with two heavy machine guns sweeping the area, it was easy to get caught in the crossfire. Charles Foster was different from Henry Bennett; wherever the Tiger Gang was thickest, that’s where he charged. It wasn’t that he was braver than Henry Bennett, but that he was simply used to fighting this way.

The enemy no longer cared about Charles Foster, fleeing in all directions, which gave him even more room to operate. Seeing several Tiger Gang members escape into the low shrubs by the roadside, he let out a sinister chuckle, flicked his wrist, and sent his Tang sword flying. It struck one man squarely in the back. The tip entered through his back and emerged from his chest, blood streaming down the blade to the ground. The man screamed, staggered forward a couple of steps, and before he could fall, Charles Foster darted up behind him, pulled out the Tang sword, and with a swift swing, ended another life.

The remaining Tiger Gang members were scared out of their wits. None dared to look back or fight; they only wished they had more legs to run faster.

Charles Foster had barely taken two steps in pursuit when a young man lagging behind was struck by a stray bullet. The round hit his leg bone, and with the force of the explosion, the bone was completely shattered, leaving only some flesh holding it together. The young man screamed and collapsed headfirst to the ground. Charles Foster rushed up, Tang sword in hand, ready to finish him off, but suddenly the youth’s head exploded, red and white matter splattering all over him. Annoyed, he frowned and looked up, only to see the helicopter above, where Golden Eye was manning the heavy machine gun with one hand and waving an apologetic gesture with the other.

The defeat was total; the Tiger Gang’s rout was irreversible. With pursuers behind and helicopters above, they had only two choices: be killed or surrender. Not a single one escaped.

Everything happened so quickly—the whole thing took less than five minutes, and the Tiger Gang didn’t even have time to call for help.

Six were captured. Under the intimidation of the Carter Society members, they were lined up in a row, trembling by the roadside. At this moment, the two helicopters also landed in the middle of the road. Dressed in a dark blue Zhongshan suit, William Carter and the Five Elements brothers stepped out of the helicopters. Among the six Tiger Gang members, some recognized William Carter, some did not, but upon seeing the “Zhongshan suit,” all of them shuddered, realizing who had arrived, and lowered their heads.

William Carter first called Henry Bennett over and asked, “Old Henry, what are our casualties?”

Henry Bennett replied, “Six brothers wounded, four of them shot in the legs, with more serious injuries.”

William Carter said, “Send them to the hospital.”

Henry Bennett answered, “Okay, Dong-ge, I’ll arrange it right away.”

After thinking for a moment, William Carter added, “Use the helicopters to take them—it’ll be faster.”

Henry Bennett was momentarily stunned, then quickly replied, “Yes! Dong-ge!”

After making the arrangements, William Carter and Charles Foster walked side by side toward the six surrendered Tiger Gang members. After pacing back and forth in front of them twice, William Carter turned to the Carter Society members and asked, “Does anyone speak Russian?”

The Carter Society members looked at each other and shook their heads in unison. William Carter said, “Ask them in English: who is Mark?”