The air seemed to freeze, filled with a suffocating tension.
Just then, Old Mo watched as the two were about to start fighting, and his heart tightened, his brows furrowing tightly.
He quickly pressed his hands hard against the ground, using the force to spring up from his sleeping bag.
Immediately afterwards, he moved like lightning, taking only two steps to reach the two men who were about to draw their swords.
Old Mo was furious, his eyes wide open, and he roared loudly.
"Put the fuck down your guns! We're all brothers here! How can we resort to knives and guns over such a small matter? What kind of behavior is this! Have you all forgotten why we came out here? If you've got the guts, go settle scores with Xiao Weiguo! Whoever can shoot that Xiao Weiguo dead, when I get back, I'll definitely go to the boss and ask for credit for you! I guarantee you'll live a life of luxury and comfort for the rest of your lives!"
Wang Jun and Gao Sheng, who usually appear fierce, were noticeably less imposing in the face of the furious Lao Mo.
After all, they knew very well that the old man in front of them was no ordinary person; he was a ruthless and cold-blooded killer.
Otherwise, how could he have become the leader of this group of reckless thugs and gained the trust of his boss who was far away overseas?
Seeing that Lao Mo was really angry, Wang Jun and Gao Sheng had no choice but to slowly lower the guns they were holding.
Then they each turned their heads away, refusing to look at each other again, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with them.
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