Chapter 7

This was the first time I saw Jiang Hao hit someone.

Although I already knew that when he was in the police force, he was the runner-up in the provincial police system's arrest and combat competition.

Unlike the flashy moves in movies, Jiang Hao's actions were so simple they were almost monotonous.

He used his fists, knees, and elbows, accurately and ruthlessly striking the vital parts of the Japanese man's body!

The Japanese man was like a slug, powerless in Jiang Hao's hands, beaten to the point of bleeding from his nostrils, moaning dismally at first, then going limp as if dead, reduced to a puddle of mud.

He had accomplices.

Several more Japanese men ran out of the bar, some holding drunken women, clearly prey they had picked up.

These people wanted to help, and some even pulled out shiny knives!

Jiang Hao wasn't afraid at all; he reached to his waist and pulled out a belt with a metal buckle.

One against five, he easily managed them.