All eyes snapped toward Johan in an instant. Shocked murmurs rippled through the hall. Heated discussions broke out.
"How can he be here?"
"He should be lying in a hospital bed in a coma. There is no way he recovered this fast!"
"The war has been quiet for five years because he was knocked out. Are we about to see another one break the shit out?"
Johan offered a thin smile. His gaze never left Jacob's eyes for even a second. He could have drawn his pistol and shot that bastard right now. But to enjoy what came next, he suppressed his urge to kill.
Johan also recognized dozens of guests seated around him, and several things made him pause. Some of them were high-ranking military officials, while others came from the hardened underworld of underground warfare.
Seeing a rank-four officer sitting beside an illegal arms supplier was a rare sight. This was not a courtroom, though.
Someone suddenly stood up and shouted in protest, "I don't understand this. You said Johan was killed. That's why we're here celebrating. So why is he standing here?!"
The protest was immediately met with nods of agreement from the entire room.
"We refuse to sit next to this little devil!" another voice snapped. "Now he knows too many of our secrets. Damn it! Who's taking responsibility for this?!"
As the situation spiraled toward chaos, Greg Gonzales emerged from behind the stage. His presence alone silenced the room out of respect. Greg swept a cold gaze across everyone before fixing his eyes on Johan's mocking smile.
Then he spoke loudly.
"So, we all agree that this little demon must be eliminated at any cost. That's exactly why I gathered all of you here. You are the top fighters from across the nation."
Uneasy murmurs filled the hall.
Everyone here knew who Johan Fox really was.
Among all the fighters present, Johan stood at the very top of the pyramid.
He was a true predator.
If they united their strength, victory was possible. But the price would be catastrophic.
Half of them, or even more, would die along with Johan.
"We already paid you to kill him, Mr. Gonzales. I hope you haven't forgotten that."
"You have the best soldiers in the country. How did you still fail?"
"Don't tell us you embezzled our funds."
The protests grew louder and sharper.
They were furious that Johan was still alive.
Some of them were even willing to throw in tens of millions of dollars more just to erase what they called trash named Johan.
"That's enough bullshit."
Johan suddenly rose from his seat, muttering calmly. His smile slowly faded. The uproar died instantly.
"I have no problem with any of you. Leave this hall now and never show your faces again. I will spare your lives," he said quietly, yet every word echoed loud and clear. "I came only for Greg and Jacob."
No one moved. Instead, the guests looked offended. Johan's words had openly belittled their strength.
Jacob sneered first. "You still have no clue about your position, buddy? Everyone here is a master fighter and a king of the underworld. Your face will be smashed in seconds."
Johan ignored the mockery. He glanced at his watch and spoke casually.
"Your time is up."
Greg suddenly burst into laughter. "It's your time that's up, stupid f*cking idiot. Go rot in hell!"
He pulled out his pistol and fired at Johan's head without hesitation.
DING!
[Micro-Trajectory Prediction activated!]
The bullet flew faster than the eye could follow. Yet Johan had already predicted its trajectory before the gunshot echoed.
He shifted his foot slightly. Effortless.
The guest standing directly behind Johan collapsed instantly, a hole torn through his head.
Greg froze, not because he had just killed an ally, but because he could not comprehend Johan's speed and precision.
Jacob took over, screaming in panic, "Stupid bunch of shitheads, what are you waiting for?! Shoot him together!"
Everyone in the hall came from the battlefield. They were trained. Experienced. Hitting a target was never difficult.
But shock robbed them of reason.
Jacob's words hypnotized them.
They fired at Johan simultaneously, wildly.
"Idiots," Johan smiled.
Bullets surged toward him. Johan began to move. Calm. Precise. He danced through the smoke and screaming metal.
Dozens fell as bullets tore through their bodies instead.
"STOP SHOOTING, YOU MORONS!" Greg screamed hysterically, terror flooding his voice.
But, between the noise of the explosion, no one's listening to anyone.
Johan leapt three meters into the air, evading every shot aimed at him in a single smooth motion.
Every eye stared in disbelief. Awe mixed with fear. They had never seen movements like this before. Worse, Johan was predicting exactly when the bullets would reach him.
When Johan's feet touched the ground, half of the guests were already lying in pools of blood.
DING!
[War Survivor's Guilt activated!]
[Focus and strenght increasing!]
Johan looked calmly at the remaining forty. Their faces were drained of color by a fear they had never known before.
One man who still had a shred of sanity threw himself at Johan's feet.
"M-Master Fox, I misjudged you! I was deceived by their words—"
THUMP.
THUMP.
The other thirty-nine followed, dropping to their knees at Johan's feet. The hall erupted with cries of regret.
"Lord Fox! Forgive us!"
The unified plea lifted the corner of Johan's lips. He smiled in satisfaction, his eyes slowly shifting toward Greg and Jacob on the stage.
"Your friends are very loyal, huh?" he asked mockingly.
Greg and Jacob stammered, unable to form a single word.
"Lord Fox, we'll do anything if you accept us as your followers!" one elder begged, clutching Johan's leg. "Let us be your slaves for life!"
"Accept us as your slaves, Master Fox!"
Johan did not even bother looking at them.
"You are unworthy."
Greg suddenly shouted as he leapt down from the stage. "Master Fox is a God of War from the highest heavens. He would never accept sewer rats like you!"
Greg threw himself at Johan's feet, sobbing like a punished child.
"Master, you are the revered god I have waited for all my life. You have finally appeared before me! Please accept me, Greg Gonzales, as your most loyal follower. I will give you anything you desire as your obedient servant!"
With trembling hands, Greg offered his pistol to Johan.
"I was blind, nearly shooting the god who will save me. If you wish, shoot me instead. Take my head!"
Greg deliberately crushed his own dignity as low as possible. He thought Johan was only twenty-eight and his emotions could still be swayed. There was a chance he would be spared.
But to his horror, Johan took the pistol without hesitation.
"Great weapon. I'll keep it."
His satisfied smile twisted into disgust. He kicked Greg away, sending him rolling across the floor.
Greg clutched his broken ribs, staring at Johan in disbelief. His plan had collapsed completely.
Johan spoke calmly, "Every sin you've committed will lead you to death. You deserve to die. But… do I deserve to dirty my hands by killing you myself?"
The moment those words fell, the forty underground elders lifted their faces from the floor.
They understood.
That statement was an execution order.
This was Johan's first task for his loyal followers.
"Greg, we've hated you for a long time. You came to L.A. and destroyed our entire business structure. We've wanted to kill you for years!"
"That's right. Who knew today would be the day. You must pay for all your sins!"
Pistols were cocked once more.
This time, not a single muzzle was aimed at Johan.
Greg became the target.
"You treacherous bastards! You think you can kill me so easily?!"
Greg signaled with his hand. Instantly, his remaining subordinates moved to shield him.
"FIRE!"
Once again, the hall roared with dozens—uh no, but hundreds of reckless gunshots.
Blood spilled. Bodies fell on both sides.
Johan smiled faintly.
Perfect. This was exactly what he wanted.