"Going for your guns? You won't even get a chance to pull the triggers," Qin Fan sneered in disdain as he watched their movements.
As he finished speaking, his figure darted forward. Like a meteor, he flashed in front of the driver, Little Wang.
SNAP! SNAP!
In the next second, the men, led by the one with the triangular eyes, had just pulled out their guns. Before their fingers could even touch the triggers, their hands felt light. A pile of disassembled parts clattered to the ground.
Qin Fan had said they wouldn't have a chance to pull the triggers, and he had delivered on his promise. Forget pulling the triggers; their index fingers never even made it to the triggers.
"Tell me who's behind this, and I'll give you a quick death!"
In less than a second, he had turned the personal weapons of these men from the Martial World into a pile of junk. With his hands clasped behind his back, Qin Fan regarded them nonchalantly.
