Gu Jianlin looked at them expressionlessly, as if he'd just heard nonsense.
The Scholar sneered coldly, his raised eyes revealing serpentine pupils, eerie and menacing.
·
·
The sea tide surged and spread over the beach, its roar resonating in the sea wind.
On the rooftop terrace of the bar, a man dressed in black wore a silver fox-face mask. With a whisky glass in hand, he said indifferently, "Since the so-called invincible Butcher has taken action, the mission ought to be completed, right?"
Five bodyguards, also wearing masks, stood behind him, each gripping firearms, their expressions vigilant.
On the table, there was a metal case, clearly filled with cash.
Across the table sat a brawny, burly man covered in tattoos so grotesque and terrifying that they seemed to embody the Evil Spirits of Hell clambering over his body—a permanent curse symbolizing doomed fate.
His square face was concealed by sunglasses and a mask.
"Mission failed."
The Butcher spoke in a muffled voice.
