The man who was stabbed fell to the ground convulsing, with no time to even clutch his throat, his body spraying blood like rain as it tilted towards the carriage; moments later, he passed away, his eyes wide with shock and horror that had not yet dissipated.
He thought he was unharmed, never expecting that he wouldn't even have the chance to scream or fear, as the God of Death had already taken him away.
These were all Cyril's men; they looked formidable with their guns pointed at civilians, but against the Special Forces, they were nothing more than embroidered pillows.
There were formidable figures within Molaban's criminal underworld too; otherwise, how would they dare to clash with the government? However, clearly, the gangsters dealt with by Xia Jinyuan were mere underlings, requiring no great effort to handle, just careful and cautious tactics for resolution.
