"Hey, buddy, is this switchblade of yours a toy? Why did it bend the moment I touched it?"
Just then, Chen Fei, who had been standing in the crowd, suddenly stepped forward. With his right hand, he gripped the switchblade and bent it with a gentle twist. This left the sleazy, pockmarked man utterly dumbfounded and shocked, an uncontrollable fear surfacing in his eyes.
He was the one who had brought the weapon out; of course, he knew it was real. It was made of metal, after all. To think it could be bent so easily—how much strength would that take?
The sleazy, pockmarked man felt a cold chill shoot up his spine, not daring to think about it any further.
"This young man..."
Meanwhile, an elderly man with a full head of silver hair, seated in the back of the bus, witnessed Chen Fei's action. A keen light instantly flashed in his cloudy eyes.
