In the dead silence of the room, where no one dared to breathe too loudly,
a white man in a Western suit descended from the upper floor and waved to Bai Yan with a smile: "Bai Yan, is it? Come upstairs with me; Domit would like to meet you."
"Where's Jinx? Where is she?"
Bai Yan lit another cigarette, took a deep breath, and asked calmly.
At the same time, he was calculating internally on his chances of evading so many gun barrels and the odds of facing off against these black-clothed men.
Admittedly, Bai Yan recognized that his defensive power was not yet sufficient to withstand a frontal assault from so many submachine guns, but human neural response is limited after all, and they might not be able to hit him when they open fire.
However, the bar space was also limited, which might pose some problems if a fight broke out.
In the briefest of moments, Bai Yan's mind raced as he considered many factors.
