Chapter Twenty-Seven: Arriving Just in Time

Yang Jie couldn't help but chuckle, his face lighting up with amusement as if he had just thought of something hilarious.

Harry's face darkened instantly; even an illiterate man would recognize the mockery in Yang Jie's demeanor.

"Take him down!!!"

The old man had warned him that Yang Jie was not someone to be trifled with, but who would know if he killed him here? As long as he had "the equalizer," he feared no one!

A dozen or so thugs immediately reached for the pistols on the table, but they didn't expect Yang Jie to whip a suppressed STI 2011 tactical pistol from his waistband with lightning speed.

*Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!*

He fired a series of shots at the thugs, prioritizing whoever was closest to a weapon.

After two of them were downed, the rest of the thugs panicked and scrambled toward the exit, some even knocking over a sofa in their desperate haste.

To Yang Jie, their movements seemed agonizingly slow. For safety's sake, he rewarded each one with two bullets. He swapped magazines in a flash, firing and firing again without a hint of mercy.

Yang Rongrong, a second-tier actress in her home country, knew of the sordid side of the entertainment industry, but she had never imagined her own life would collide so violently with darkness.

In a country touted as the beacon of human civilization, she had been kidnapped. Looking at the dozen or so thugs, her heart sank into despair. She was accustomed to the brilliance of stage lights, the elegance of red carpets, and the distant screams of fans, but today, a sudden storm had swept her into a world entirely foreign.

She had visited the United States many times, but this was her first encounter with such a massive protest. Due to her lack of experience, she had been separated from her crew by the crowd. Just as she was preparing to find them, several figures sprang from the shadows like ghosts, blades in hand, tearing her world apart in an instant.

She was dragged into a car, and as darkness swallowed her vision, she lost consciousness. When she awoke, she found herself surrounded by thugs, who were busy puffing away with strange tools.

Fear, like an invisible net, tightened around her heart. Yang Rongrong had never experienced such utter hopelessness and helplessness. The peeling paint of the room seemed to render the world in a state of decay. The pungent odor made every breath a struggle. In this moment, she was no longer the star in the spotlight; she was just a fragile, helpless woman facing the threat of death, her heart filled with unprecedented terror.

However, just as she was about to abandon all hope, a handsome man who looked like an iron tower appeared, communicating rapidly in English with a local accent.

From their exchange, Yang Rongrong's despairing heart flickered with hope; she realized someone had come to rescue her. But before she could react, she heard the dull *pfft-pfft-pfft* of gunfire.

Yang Rongrong’s eyes widened in horror. She watched as the iron-tower man remained calm, pulling the trigger without mercy against the dozen armed thugs.

Blood—warm and viscous, the most jarring red in the dark night—sprayed outward, some of it even splattering onto her face. Time seemed to freeze. Yang Rongrong’s world was reduced to the pungent scent of blood and the echoing cracks of gunfire. Her mind was consumed by fear and nausea; the beautiful images of her past shattered, and her worldview teetered on the brink of collapse.

After swapping magazines twice, Yang Jie made sure every body had at least two bullets in the head, which finally allowed him to relax slightly. He pulled out a detector resembling a phone, scanned the area, and upon confirming there were no hidden cameras, let out a long breath.

Suddenly, a scream rang out, and Yang Jie instantly clamped his hand over Yang Rongrong’s mouth. She was wide-eyed, tears streaming down her face, her entire being caught in a state of extreme emotional distress.

"Shut up! If you attract anyone else, it won't do us any good!"

Seeing Yang Jie so close, Yang Rongrong trembled violently and gave a stunned nod.

"Stay here and wait for me."

Before she could speak, Yang Jie began inspecting the room. He ran upstairs and checked, finding a female thug collapsed on a bed. Seeing the needle marks on her wrists, it was clear she had passed out from an overdose. He put a bullet through her head, donned a pair of gloves, and began to search, even using an axe to pry things open.

Sure enough, before long, Yang Jie discovered a safe behind a cabinet. He used his tools to crack it open, revealing a dozen kilograms of gold. The reason the Scissors Gang had survived for over a decade without being wiped out was that they owned a local pawnshop—with a legal deed—providing them with a steady stream of funds to grow their gang.

Next was the task of staging the scene. Checking the time, he saw that night had fully descended.

Yang Jie wanted to speed things up, as the sounds of smashing and looting outside were growing louder; he feared complications. He retrieved all the bullets from the bodies and dragged them to the second floor. Had there not been a survivor to worry about, he would have preferred to store them in his storage space.

He brought out gasoline and plenty of fuel, setting up trigger and remote-detonation devices. If anyone entered, the entire building would be engulfed in a sea of flames. Most importantly, the ignition point was downstairs, and it would only take minutes for the bodies upstairs to be reduced to charred remains.

Seeing the dazed woman, Yang Jie nudged her shoulder. "Hey, wake up! Wake up!"

Yang Rongrong looked at him with terror, instinctively shrinking back.

Yang Jie raised an eyebrow. "If you don't want to leave, then I'm going!"

As he made to leave, Yang Rongrong froze for a second before scrambling to grab his jacket and following him outside.

They were met with a sea of thugs in hoodies, carrying stolen goods back and forth. The streets were lined with burning trash cans, and riot police were busy beating people. Yang Jie’s mouth twitched—a peaceful protest had devolved into a riot, complete with "zero-dollar shopping." It was truly chaotic.

Yang Rongrong was struck with total shock. Was this the beacon of humanity? One would think they were on a battlefield.

"Fuck, get away from my car!"

Seeing a few thugs near his vehicle, Yang Jie shouted. The thugs showed him no respect, instead approaching him with weapons drawn. The best greeting he could offer them was a barrage of bullets from his tactical pistol.

The gunfire instantly set the scene off. The police grew alert, and the thugs became wary. This was the United States; no one wanted to gamble on whether the police would open fire.