Jack chuckled. He felt a little speechless. It seemed that these people knew how to keep a secret.
“Enough with the talking. Kill him!”
The head honcho with the bald head waved his hand. A mass of people surged toward Jack.
“Trying to bully me with sheer numbers, eh?”
Jack narrowed his eyes. He cracked his knuckles, but he did not reveal a lick of fear. Instead, he rushed forward.
“Striking Eagle Fist!”
One of the men used one of his skills when he came before Jack.
He launched punches after punches, the air seeming to rip apart before him. One could even hear the clear whoosh that shot through the atmosphere.
Jack could not be bothered with his attacks. He swiped a fist at the other man, spun on his heel, and went straight for another person.
The man who used the Striking Eagle Fist was probably as strong as an army major. He was already considered an exceptional fighter.
Unfortunately, Jack merely saw him as a child, trying to emulate the grandmasters—and his fist technique was really no technique at all. The man flew to the side from Jack’s blow. His arm shattered.
The man released a pained cry. His face immediately paled.
Jack struck a few more fists straight into the center of a few people’s chests. Their sternums shattered, and they all spat mouthfuls of blood. Each of them was sent flying, and by the time they landed on the ground, none of them were breathing. They were all dead.
At that moment, Jack seemed to have melded into the shadows under the dim lighting, slaughtering the Americans in a spray of blood and gut-wrenching cries.
The people hiding in the house, especially Fiona, Joan, and the others, had never seen something like this before.
Now though, as they bore witness to the scene, shock seeped into their marrows. Their breathing hitched.
In a short while, Jack killed every single one of those dozens of men at the speed of light.
“You’re so strong, Jack. Why do I feel like you’re fighting way better than you did in the morning?”
Fiona was no expert at martial arts. Yet she still felt the rush of his speed, the confidence in every move he made, the deadly aura he emanated.
Jack flashed an awkward smile. “Oh, Mother. Don’t you know that it’s always best to reserve some of your strength when fighting, no matter where and when? We always need to keep a trump card for ourselves!”
“Oh. So that’s it!”
Fiona bobbed her head as if she understood. She scanned across all the corpses. “What do we do with them? It’ll be difficult for us to clear this mess at night. But it’s bad luck for us if we don’t clear them. We’ll probably be working through the night!”
Jack thought about the issue for a while. “It’ll be difficult for us to sell this villa in such a short time. It’s not like we’ll be worse off without the money though. Okay, how about this, I’ll get Master George to send some of his bodyguards over to get rid of the bodies. Then I’ll give the villa to them.”