Chapter 190

Irene's beauty and figure were flawless. She was unlike any woman these men had ever seen.

"Boys, tonight's our lucky night!" the Crimson Gang members murmured excitedly, their faces alight with greedy anticipation. They disregarded Dustin and Irene, failing to notice the pair's unnervingly calm demeanor. Neither showed the slightest fear; they were composed. Dustin watched the unfolding scene with detached amusement.

"All right! No need to wait. Let's get this done," Aaron said dismissively, waving a hand.

"Remember," Pete said with a sinister grin, "cripple him, don't kill him. Got it?"

"Got it!" the men responded, their malicious laughter filling the room as they approached Dustin. Dustin chuckled.

The moment they drew near, he sprang into action. His energy surged, filling the room with an almost palpable force. Few survived Dustin's attacks. He struck with precision; within seconds, the members lay immobile on the floor, unconscious before they could scream.

The metallic scent of blood quickly filled the air, mingling with the ensuing silence. Aaron and Pete, engrossed in conversation, didn't notice until they heard the dull thuds. Both men froze in disbelief. It had taken Dustin less than three seconds. Every one of Pete's subordinates lay unresponsive on the floor.

"What the hell just happened?" Pete barked, confused. For a moment, he thought it a prank.

"Get up! All of you, get up!" he shouted, his anger rising. But no one responded.

"Something's wrong," Aaron muttered, his face pale.

Pete crouched, turning one of his men over. The lifeless body stared back, eyes wide open, a clean hole through its chest where its heart should have been.

A cold shiver ran through both men. Terror filled their eyes as they turned to Dustin. In seconds, he had taken down over ten people. Pete's face twisted in panic as he realized Dustin was no ordinary person. Aaron and Irene were paralyzed with fear, their faces drained of color.

Who the hell was Dustin?

How could he kill so effortlessly?

Fear overwhelmed them. Sharing the room felt like being trapped with a predator.

"Kill him! Hurry up and kill him!" Aaron stammered, shoving Pete forward.

Snapping to attention, Pete drew a gun, loaded it, and aimed it at Dustin. Aaron and Irene sighed in relief. No matter how powerful Dustin was, he couldn't be faster than a bullet.

"Hands on your head! Get down on your knees. Now! Or I'll shoot!" Pete barked.

"Do it, or we'll blow your brains out!" Irene said, emboldened by the gun.

Dustin remained unfazed, walking toward them with a soft smile.

"Stop right there!" Their voices cracked with fear.

"You're asking for it!" Pete snapped and pulled the trigger.

What happened next defied logic. Dustin raised his hand, catching the bullet in midair. He opened his palm, dropping the bullet to the floor as if it were nothing. Pete's face twisted in terror; Aaron and Irene looked like they'd seen a ghost. None came from martial arts families; this was beyond their comprehension. They were terrified.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Pete frantically fired, emptying the magazine. Each bullet met the same fate, dropping harmlessly at Dustin's feet. All three stared at the pile of spent bullets, trembling uncontrollably.

"W-Who Who are you?" Pete stammered, his hands shaking so badly he almost dropped the gun. Aaron and Irene were equally shaken. They hadn't expected someone so utterly beyond their comprehension. Resisting the drugged wine was one thing, but catching bullets with bare hands? He killed without hesitation, without emotion in his eyes. Dustin seemed more terrifying than the Crimson Gang itself—a true force to be reckoned with.