Zhang Fan's eyes gleamed with an indomitable light. This person's sudden rebellion suggests that someone behind him is quite powerful.
Facing a group of aggressive foreigners, Zhang Fan did not back down at all. Instead, he was like an enraged lion, with boundless energy within him.
These foreigners, perhaps accustomed to bullying the weak in foreign lands, never expected that these Chinese would dare to resist! They would encounter such tenacious resistance.
The battle erupted in an instant, as fierce and unstoppable as a volcanic eruption.
Zhang Fan's every strike was precise and powerful, and several foreigners were instantly knocked to the ground, groaning in pain.
Zhang Fan's courage and strength made the foreigners, who were initially eager to attack, feel intimidated. However, the frenzy of the group quickly overwhelmed their rationality, and more people brandished sticks, bottles, and even weapons they had found on the spot, rushing towards Zhang Fan.
Just then, Hu Dajun arrived with a team.
"Brothers, let's fucking get them!" Hu Dajun roared, his voice like the beating of war drums, igniting everyone's fighting spirit.
In an instant, the situation, which had initially been slightly disadvantageous, was reversed, and the two sides were plunged into an unprecedented and chaotic battle.
It had been a long time since there had been a fight like this. Hu Dajun was now furious and wanted to unleash his fury. These foreigners dared to cause trouble here; weren't they courting death?
Outside the shop, swords clashed, each collision accompanied by the clang of metal and the dull thud of a body falling to the ground.
The air was thick with the smell of blood and sweat, and the air echoed with gasps and roars.
This large-scale armed conflict was not only a contest of strength, but also a battle of will and belief.
Although the foreigners were numerous, they gradually became powerless in the face of this force united by anger and justice.
Their offensive became chaotic, their steps faltered, and each attack seemed to be at its last gasp.
Finally, after a fierce exchange, the foreigners' defenses completely collapsed.
They began to scatter and flee, some abandoning their weapons, others clutching their wounds, looking utterly disheveled.
The streets were littered with all sorts of weapons and bloodstains, bearing witness to the ferocity of the battle.
With the last foreigner disappearing, the battle finally came to an end.
These people came with a murderous intent; otherwise, they wouldn't have acted this way.
They used to keep to themselves, but now they're suddenly causing trouble.
They must have powerful connections.
Zhang Fan was completely unharmed. His body had changed a lot after his rebirth, not only in terms of strength but also in other aspects.
It would be difficult for a few foreigners to kill themselves.
Now that Hu Dajun has arrived with his men, and their numbers exceed theirs, it's normal for them to run away.
Zhang Fan told Hu Dajun to take the injured brothers to get medical treatment, as such a large-scale fight was definitely not normal.
However, he had no information about the inside and did not know whose orders those people had given to do this to him.
It seems I need to go and see for myself what's going on.
A bunch of foreigners dare to do this on their own country's soil. Aren't they too arrogant? The police can't take them down, and neither can we.
Do you really think that no one dares to touch a no-man's-land?
===
At the entrance of that narrow and dimly lit alley, opposite the shop, lies a forgotten corner of the city, known as the "no man's land".
Here, weeds grow rampant and garbage is everywhere, like a crack in the civilized world, hiding unknown secrets and evils.
The last rays of the setting sun barely penetrated the dense buildings, casting their light on this desolate land, only adding to the sense of desolation and bleakness.
In this shadowy area, a group of foreigners, disheveled, exhausted, and even showing signs of pain, staggered back to their temporary base like defeated soldiers.
The arrogance and confidence that had been there before were gone from his eyes, replaced by deep frustration and fear.
This time, dozens of people were mobilized, equipped with sophisticated weapons, and a "cleanup operation" with no suspense was planned, with Zhang Fan as the direct target.
In their eyes, Zhang Fan was nothing more than an insignificant opponent, someone they could easily eliminate like crushing an ant.
However, reality gave them a resounding slap in the face.
In that sudden melee, Zhang Fan was not only not easily defeated, but also single-handedly made the foreigners pay a heavy price.
At this moment, some of these foreigners had bandages on their arms, some had gauze wrapped around their legs, and some were even carried back on stretchers. The morale of the entire team was extremely low.
Among this group of disheveled people, a tall African man stood out.
He was tall and strong, with skin as hard as bronze, but at this moment he appeared unusually weak, leaning on the mottled wall with one hand, moving his feet with difficulty step by step.
Sweat and blood mingled on his forehead, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto the dusty ground with a soft, muffled sound.
His eyes held both resentment and fear of the impending disaster.
The moment they stepped into the stronghold, a sense of oppression instantly froze.
Inside the room, a woman in a long black dress sat on a slightly worn sofa. Her figure appeared particularly mysterious and aloof under the dim light.
Her long hair was as black as night, casually draped over her shoulders, with a few stray strands gently brushing against her fair face, adding a touch of untamed wildness to her appearance.
The woman's long black dress was fitted and elegant, the hem swaying gently, like an undercurrent in the night, both profound and dangerous.
Her makeup was exquisite, yet it exuded an undeniable coldness. Her deep eyes seemed to see into people's hearts and gaze directly into the soul of every individual.
At that moment, when she saw the group of foreigners returning in such a disheveled state, an undisguised anger and disappointment appeared on her face.
"You, this is what you call 'professionalism'?" The woman's voice was low and deep, each word seemingly squeezed out from between her teeth, carrying an undeniable authority. "Dozens of people, going to ambush an unsuspecting target, and this is the result? Are you a bunch of useless trash, a bunch of freeloaders? I paid so much money just to see such a disgraceful performance from you?"
The woman's tone was full of disdain and anger; every word was like a sharp blade, cutting into the self-esteem and pride of everyone present.
The woman's gaze swept over the crowd, each pause seeming like a silent judgment, sending chills down their spines.
After speaking, she turned around, her gaze sharp, and scanned the room once more, as if silently warning everyone: her patience was limited, and she would only give them one chance.
"A batch of weapons and equipment will be delivered soon. If you can't kill that kid by then, you're all dead!"
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