The dark muzzle of Old Moâs gun was aimed at Fang Zhen, ready to fire at any moment.
Fang Zhen wasnât panicked.
His extrasensory precognition had activated, but he didnât see Old Mo making a move to shoot.
He figured the Old Mos had other plans.
"The money... this is all there is. Thereâs no more," Fang Zhen said.
His linguistics talent was active, and he was speaking to Old Mo.
Hearing Fang Zhen speak Spanish, Old Mo was momentarily stunned, but he quickly broke into a sinister grin.
Mexican Spanish is, in fact, just Spanish, differing only in some unique words and a variant accent that distinguishes it from the Spanish spoken elsewhere.
"Good, you can talk. If you donât have the money, then youâll have to stay," said Old Mo.
"Heh heh. Selling the two men to a farm and the woman to a brothel... thatâs a pretty penny, too."
"A lot of white guys are really into Asians."
The Old Mo holding the submachine gun wore a wicked smile, his eyes scanning Fang Zhen, Ke Liangjie, and Li Zoyi with malicious intent.
Li Zoyiâs face flushed red, then drained of all color, a flicker of terror in her eyes.
"Men can be sold to brothels, too. Some people are into that, and the price isnât always lower than a womanâs," another Old Mo chimed in, walking over with an equally vile smirk.
This time, Ke Liangjieâs expression darkened, and a hint of despair crossed his face.
The situation was spiraling out of control.
Ke Liangjieâs hand twitched, making a subtle, almost unconscious move toward his waist.
Just as Ke Liangjie hesitated, debating whether to risk instant death by drawing his revolver and going down fighting, Fang Zhen let out a soft sigh.
Fang Zhen looked at the Old Mo holding the submachine gun as if he were already a dead man.
He knew this was a problem money couldnât solve.
The Old Mos claimed they were raising the price, but in reality, they were just sizing them up and preying on the weak.
The fact that these three could procure an AWP sniper rifle and anti-personnel mines showed they were serious about doing business. However, deals like this were always subject to sudden changes.
If five or six burly men had been standing here, the deal probably would have gone smoothly. But seeing as it was Ke Liangjie, a low-level gang member, Fang Zhen, who was dressed like a businessman, and Li Zoyi, a petite young woman, the Old Mosâ attitude had shifted.
No one could expect a Mexican gang to have high moral standards. If they could take everything for free, why pay? They could rob them blind with very little risk.
The three Old Mos had done the math and decided to make their move.
In a situation like this, it wouldnât end without someone dying.
From their perspective as gang members, the three Mexicansâ logic was perfectly rational; it was all about maximizing profit.
The problem was, they had fatally miscalculated Fang Zhenâs strength.
Fang Zhen sighed softly.
He didnât even consider these three Mexican gangsters a threat.
The main issue was that this was the real world. Fang Zhen didnât want to kill wantonly, creating a pretext for trouble and leaving loose ends that could come back to haunt him.
His original plan had been to just teach these three Old Mos a lesson, take the guns and mines, and leave it at that.
But their conversation had stirred a murderous impulse within him.
Listening to them talk, it was clear this wasnât the first time theyâd engaged in the depraved business of human trafficking.
And now these scum had set their sights on him.
This was utterly intolerable!
âFine,â he thought. âTonight, Iâll break my rule against killing in the real world. Iâll just consider it a small contribution to improving the overall quality of humanity.â
"What are you looking at?" the Old Mo with the submachine gun asked, his expression souring.
Fang Zhen didnât say a word, but his gaze held none of the fear expected of a cornered victim. Instead, he was scrutinizing the man with an expression the Old Mo couldnât comprehend.
This unnerved Leader Old Mo, and a flicker of killing intent rose within him.
Fang Zhen was very close to himâless than three meters away.
Suddenly, the Old Mo with the submachine gun saw a faint red light flash in Fang Zhenâs eyes.
Fang Zhen had activated his skill: Violent Hypnosis!
A tyrannical will shot through their eye contact and forced its way directly into Leader Old Moâs mind.
For Fang Zhen, using the skill felt like being in a competition, staring directly into an opponentâs eyes, sensing both his own will and theirs.
In such a contest of wills, the weaker party would typically be the first to buckle under the pressure, lowering their head or looking away, unable to meet their opponentâs gaze.
But with Violent Hypnosis, Fang Zhen could directly feel the strength of the will of the Old Mo with the submachine gun.
It was slightly stronger than an ordinary personâs, but not by muchâprobably a little over 11 points of Spiritual Power.
Fang Zhenâs will crushed Old Moâs Spirit with the ease of snapping a dry twig. The gangsterâs entire mind became undefended territory, allowing Fang Zhenâs will to surge in and forcibly implant a new conviction.
âYour two partners have betrayed you. Theyâre undercover cops. Kill them now if you want to live.â
This conviction was implanted directly into Old Moâs mind.
The Old Mo with the submachine gun froze for a second, then exploded with an intense, uncontrollable rage.
His face turned beet red as his emotions surged, his rationality completely vanishing.
Old Mo whipped his head around, aimed his gun at his two partners, and roared, "You two dare to betray me? Traitors must die!"
As he spoke, to the utter astonishment of his two companions, Leader Old Mo pulled the trigger.
The submachine gun spat fire, riddling the man in front of him with bullets.
Fueled by instinct and adrenaline, the gangster, despite having dozens of small bullet holes in his chest and abdomen, didnât die instantly. He instinctively returned fire, unloading his handgun at Leader Old Mo.