In the alley.
Feeling the sharp pain in his chest and seeing the fresh blood he had just spat out, the middle-aged Caucasian's eyes brimmed with anger.
He fumbled for a handgun from behind his back, cursing under his breath as he prepared to attack Luo An.
"Son of..."
Before the middle-aged man could finish his words, Luo An had already coldly moved in front of him.
Snap!
Easily grabbing the wrist with the gun, Luo An twisted it forcefully.
Crack!
"Ah—"
The clear, crisp sound of bone breaking was music to the ears. The middle-aged man's pupils dilated, and he screamed in agony.
Luo An's mouth curled into a smile as he said coldly:
"First it was a Molotov cocktail, now a gun? You sure have a lot of weapons."
"Fu-k You!"
Despite the severe pain from his fracture causing his forehead to be covered in large beads of sweat, the middle-aged man still did not forget to curse and pose his question:
"Damn FBI! How did you get through that fire?"
