A pair of enormous fists slammed the uniformed constable to the ground. Han Tao himself was sent crashing hard against the wall, letting out a wail as a bloody welt instantly swelled on his forehead.
The onlookers were instantly dumbfounded. What just happened? Wasn't Han Tao supposed to be punching Qin Long? How did he end up hitting the constable, and why did Han Tao get that lump on his own forehead? Could this all be the work of that cripple, Qin Long…? But everyone had seen that Qin Long hadn't made a move; he had merely twisted his body.
"I warned you," Qin Long said, his eyes frigid and detached. "You won't get another chance."
"You bastard, you dare to dodge!" Han Tao roared, rubbing his backside as he scrambled up from the floor. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" he bellowed, pointing at the welt on his forehead. "Get him! Beat him to death!" With a wave of his hand, the seven or eight burly men behind him started to charge toward Qin Long.
