"Fu Hai is closed for business today. You should all leave."
Just then, Huang Junze's cold, mocking voice suddenly rang out. The terrified customers, who hadn't dared to move a muscle, scattered as if they'd received a pardon. They scrambled out of the Fu Hai nightclub in a frenzied mob, drawing the curious gazes of pedestrians on the street.
Meanwhile, inside the now-empty Fu Hai nightclub, the imposing Huang Junze looked down at Chen Fei and sneered, his words laced with murderous intent. "Kid, Dongxing has stood tall in Hong Kong for decades. From our humble beginnings, we now stand shoulder to shoulder with Hong Xing and New Yi'an. Do you really think you alone can stir up any trouble?"
"I'll ask one last time. Where is Po Rong?" However, Chen Fei couldn't be bothered with him. He turned to Brother Ximao, who was slumped on the floor, his face a cold, emotionless mask.
