The bonfire within the farm had long since died out, leaving only scattered embers swaying unsteadily in the night breeze, barely lighting a few meters around.
The second son of the Chris Family lay dead on the ground, his skull shattered, white brain matter scattered like tofu, mixing a scent of burnt flesh and blood in the air.
The barbecue party had turned into a mess, with broken glasses, toppled grills, and food scraps left uncleaned, indicating ongoing chaos.
John Chris stared at Zhou Qingfeng opposite him, utterly confused—You could summon the National Guard; why didn't you mention that in the calls?
You boast, you dominate, your connections are sky-high; would making a few more calls kill you? Now the situation is unmanageable, and regardless of the outcome, the Chris Clan is ruined.
National Guard soldiers, holding rifles, formed a tense semicircle, their gun barrels slightly raised, yet they made no further move.