The Trump Card in Hand
As the two tattooed subordinates fell straight into a pool of blood, the faces of the onlookers turned pale.
The spreading scent of blood lent a suffocating tension to the atmosphere.
With a metallic clang, the heavy iron door at the entrance of the second floor was locked.
"Who are you people?!" The bald man's gaze landed on the three figures that had suddenly appeared. His expression soured, while his dozen subordinates promptly gripped their machetes.
As the three figures slowly walked towards them, everyone saw them clearly—a man and two women.
It was Irving, along with Wendy and Sophia.
"Dad!" Sophia's eyes fell on Jony, who was battered and bruised in the center of the hall. Her eyes immediately reddened, and she dashed towards him recklessly.
"Sophia." Jony said weakly.