Very soon, a bunch of burly men in black vests, muscles bulging all over, jumped down from the windows. In the blink of an eye, ten black‑clad toughs appeared in the courtyard, then glared angrily at Lin Mu and that group of bruisers.
Clearly, those bruisers' antics had already pissed them off. Anyone would be furious about being woken up when they're sleeping soundly.
"Where'd these lanzai come from? Tired of living, huh?" one of the black‑clad bruisers barked coldly.
"I think the ones tired of living are you sorry fucks!" The guys on Lin Mu's side obviously weren't going to back down. Lin Mu had already said it: they didn't need to fight, he could handle it all himself, and he wouldn't let them get hurt.
Even though those bruisers found it a bit hard to believe, they still did as Lin Mu instructed.
"With your trash three‑legged‑cat skills, you think you're worthy of throwing hands with us?" the black‑clad bruiser said.
