Urban's Fury: The War Dragon God
Chapter 211 Mysterious Organization

Chapter 211: Chapter 211 Mysterious Organization

"Stop!"

Hai Lang stepped out of the elevator to the lobby and, seeing the chaos, bellowed loudly. Li Feng first glanced at the lobby manager, then at Hai Lang, whose face was as gloomy as still waters.

Heh.

"Is this the owner of the club?"

Hai Lang lifted his gaze to scrutinize Li Feng and sneered dismissively, "You’re not qualified to see my boss."

As he spoke, Hai Lang stretched his muscles.

Li Feng squinted at Hai Lang.

"So it’s true what they say, ’it’s easier to meet King Yan than to deal with his little ghosts.’ Fine, I’ll entertain you."

The lobby manager, seeing Li Feng’s overbearing arrogance, couldn’t contain his ire and let out a cold laugh.

"Kid, don’t get too cocky. Do you even know who he is?"

"Who? Does it matter? Knowing who he is, is that supposed to scare me?" Li Feng scoffed lightly. This lobby manager was a man in his thirties or forties; how could he still act like some rich second generation?

The lobby manager, mocked by Li Feng, was livid: "Hmph, Brother Lang is a high-priced bodyguard our boss brought back. He was once a mercenary."

"Your ignorance is showing. You think knowing a little Kung Fu makes you invincible? Do you think you can act so arrogantly because you took down a few security guards?"

"You’re still too green to compare with Brother Lang. You’re nothing next to him."

The lobby manager spat out these demeaning words not out of self-praise. Those security guards looked strong, like bulging calves, with merely better physical training—good enough to intimidate ordinary people.

"Heh, a Mercenary."

Li Feng’s eyes shifted slightly, coldly sweeping over Hai Lang. A chill ran down Hai Lang’s spine as he looked up at Li Feng, wondering if it was just his imagination.

"Cut the crap."

Hai Lang interrupted the posturing lobby manager and motioned to Li Feng, "Come on, show me what you’re made of."

Hai Lang looked at Li Feng with arrogance. Being skilled in Kung Fu meant nothing—he had been battle-tested. How much stronger could the opponent be?

Li Feng curled the corners of his mouth.

Stepping past a second-generation rich kid, he dashed toward Hai Lang as fast as an arrow. Hai Lang, observing Li Feng’s speed, squinted. Although he looked down on Li Feng, it didn’t mean he would underestimate his opponent.

His body tensed in preparation.

In a flash.

Li Feng charged right up to Hai Lang, reaching out to grab him. Hai Lang grunted, raised his hand to block, and went for a grip on Li Feng’s joint in return.

Li Feng abruptly smiled, and Hai Lang sensed the smile, his sixth sense detecting a hint of danger. He had felt this way only twice before in his life: once, when he nearly got his head blasted by a bullet.

The second time, when he fought with a powerful warrior and was nearly killed, both occasions were brushes with death, teetering on the edge of life and death.

Hai Lang hadn’t expected to experience this feeling a third time because of the man before him.

Hiss.

The aura about him.

Hai Lang suddenly sensed that familiar scent, the smell of slaughter. It flashed through his mind involuntarily; this guy was also from the military, one of his kind.

In that moment.

Li Feng feigned a move, then snapped. Crack! Hai Lang felt his arm joint dislocated. Instinctively reacting, he found that the opponent left no chance for resistance, his soft ribs at the side of his waist struck by an elbow.

Hai Lang grunted, the strength he had gathered dispelled, his body hefted by an over-the-shoulder throw.

Boom.

Hai Lang’s back slammed hard onto the ground, a muffled groan escaping his lips as intense pain seared through his insides. He had no time to feel the pain, having nearly forcefully twisted his arm off; he tried to counter with a flipping kick.

Li Feng released Hai Lang’s arm, stepped back to dodge the incoming kick, and, prepared beforehand, kicked directly into Hai Lang’s abdomen.

Hm.

Hai Lang rolled across the ground, rubbing against the floor. Though it seemed slow, the exchange happened almost in a flash.

Lobby manager Huang had just been smug, expecting Li Feng to get taught a lesson by the always-trusted confidant of young master Hai.

But reality was always crueler than one’s expectations.

Huang’s mouth agape, large enough to fit an egg. What the hell?

Hai Lang had been thoroughly beaten.

Hai Lang struggled to his feet, felt sweetness in his throat, and spurted a mouthful of blood. Raising his eyes to look at Li Feng, who was approaching leisurely.

"Who are you, exactly?"

Li Feng walked up to the fallen Hai Lang and looked down at him, bending slightly with a smile.

"Who are you really?"

Hai Lang was frightened, truly frightened.

"Are you questioning me?"

Gulp.

Hai Lang swallowed nervously.

"No, I wouldn’t dare. I’m wrong, I’m really wrong. Please, I beg you to be magnanimous and spare me. I was just confused. Since coming back, I’ve only worked as a bodyguard, never did anything bad, I swear."

Hai Lang went down on his knees, pleading.

"I’ll leave the country, I promise I won’t return. Please let me go as if I were nothing but a fart."

"Holy shit, am I blind?"

"Isn’t that Hai Lang, Hai Sho’s right-hand man? How could he be such a coward?"

Lobby manager Huang had already seen the bad turn of events and slipped away, Hai Lang actually kneeling and begging for mercy—an overwhelming piece of information.

This had to be reported to young master Hai.

Li Feng looked at the begging Hai Lang: "Had you known this was to happen, why did you cause it in the first place?"