Chen Pingchuan's face instantly turned pale. A wave of acid reflux surged in his throat, and he was nearly sick from the stench. This wasn't an act; it was a genuine physiological reaction.

The two young men's skin was even fairer and more delicate than the women of the Outer District, a clear sign of meticulous care.

Mad Dog's eyes lingered on them, and a peculiar thought crossed his mind. These two lads, with their tender, delicate skin… they might be more fun to play with than women.

While Mad Dog was mentally hatching sinister plans for Chen Pingchuan and Liu Haofeng, he discreetly signaled his men to surround them, his eyes gleaming with cunning.

After getting out of the car, Chen Pingchuan took in the sight of Mad Dog's group. They were clearly not good people, and just as Chen Pingchuan was about to start extorting them, Mad Dog spoke first. He planned to probe the two men's backgrounds before making a move, wary of provoking someone important.

It's unlikely a major figure would travel so humbly, but you never know. I'm Mad Dog, not a stupid dog.

As a result, Mad Dog surprisingly held back from attacking immediately.

"Hey, you two little brats, where are you from? Don't you watch where you're going? Do you have any idea how many of our cars you just wrecked? I swear, are your eyes just for..."

However, before Mad Dog could finish his tirade, he was cut off by Chen Pingchuan's roar.

"Shut up!"

Chen Pingchuan's voice exploded like thunder, making everyone's eardrums ring.

"There's nothing I hate more than listening to people babble, and I absolutely will not tolerate being insulted. I'll remember that little curse of yours. We'll settle the score after I'm done speaking."

His gaze, sharp as a knife, swept over the crowd, his cold eyes smoldering with embers of rage.

"Now, nobody interrupt me. You'd all better listen up, damn it!"

With a look of righteous indignation, Chen Pingchuan continued to shout, "Your moronic decision to park haphazardly all over the highway has damaged my precious battle car. Now, we're going to have a nice little talk about how you're going to compensate me for my losses!"

The moment he finished, Mad Dog's underlings erupted in laughter, hurling a downpour of vulgar insults at Chen Pingchuan.

"Where did this idiot crawl out from? Such arrogant bullshit, has he no idea where he is!" a thug yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Hahaha, for real, this kid's gonna make me die of laughter. Compensation? He truly doesn't know his place."

Another thug, roaring with laughter, mimicked Chen Pingchuan by pinching his fingers together and speaking in a high-pitched, mocking voice, "Now, let's discuss how you'll compensate me for my loss, or I might just have to pay with my ass."

"Hahaha, this lad is so soft-skinned. He might actually be quite a looker if he put on a dress," another thug shouted with a lewd grin.

"Don't even think about it. Brother Gou gets first dibs. A prize like that would never go to you." The men around him joined in, their jeers filled with malice and depravity.

Listening to the gang's obscene taunts, Liu Haofeng felt his butthole clench. He couldn't help but blame Chen Pingchuan for his rash behavior.

Even though I can't comprehend his strength, I can clearly see the capabilities of this group. These burly men, each with broad shoulders and a thick waist, are covered in bulging muscles and armed to the teeth. Their brutish faces are crisscrossed with ridges of coarse flesh, each line seemingly etched with ferocity and cruelty. Their eyes glint with a malevolent light, like wolves ready to devour their prey. They're clearly not a group to be trifled with. Even though these people are only at the level of first or second-tier Genetic Warriors, they can't be underestimated. It's a huge group, and they're all clutching firearms. Even a fourth-tier Genetic Warrior would likely suffer a huge loss against this mob, maybe even die here. And then there's Chen Pingchuan, my new leader. Even if he's extraordinarily skilled, can he possibly kill all these men? Well, maybe... maybe he will kill them all!

Liu Haofeng was startled by his own absurd thought and couldn't help but mock himself inwardly.

What is wrong with me, thinking this in broad daylight? Did the sun fry my brain? Chen Pingchuan, single-handedly wiping out dozens of these road-blocking thugs? That kind of plot only happens in trashy, brain-dead novels. How could it possibly happen in reality?

While Liu Haofeng's thoughts ran wild, Chen Pingchuan had reached the end of his patience.

I thought my own cursing was foul, but compared to the filth spewing from their mouths, I'm just an amateur. If words won't work, then it's time for action!

Chen Pingchuan's gaze swept over the Black Skull lackeys, finally settling on a thin man. This man wore the least clothing among them—just a jacket and jeans, with underwear at most. He was also the one cursing the most energetically, spittle flying everywhere.

Chen Pingchuan's lips curled into a faint, ambiguous smile. He pointed at the thin man and said slowly, "We'll start with you. I see you're enjoying all this shouting."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chilling coldness, like a death sentence being passed down.

The moment Chen Pingchuan activated his skill, time seemed to freeze for an instant.

The next second, a crimson heart inexplicably appeared in his hand. It was still steaming, as if freshly torn from a body. Its veins and arteries were clearly visible, and it twitched slightly. Each contraction and expansion beat like a drum of death, striking fear into the hearts of everyone present.

This sudden, bizarre, and terrifying scene left the Black Skull thugs utterly stupefied. They stared wide-eyed with their mouths agape, unable to utter a sound, as if an invisible hand were choking them.

Then, Chen Pingchuan wrinkled his brow in disgust. He casually flicked the blood-dripping heart away. It landed on the ground with a SPLAT, kicking up a small splash of blood.

His gaze, quick as lightning, locked onto his second target: the short, dark, chubby man standing beside the thin one.

"And you!"

Chen Pingchuan's voice remained low and icy, another death sentence delivered.

The chubby man froze as if struck by lightning, his entire body shuddering violently.

Chen Pingchuan pointed at him. Amid the group's stunned silence, his lips moved slightly. "Magic Hand Empty," he whispered, so softly that only he could hear.

This time, what appeared in Chen Pingchuan's hand made even him pause in surprise.

It was a segment of greasy large intestine, dangling with unidentifiable filth and emanating a nauseating stench. The foul odor spread rapidly through the air like a tangible fog.

Truly disgusting.

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