Zhao Dong looked up. Before him stood a man in a black, tight-fitting vest. His face was brutish and fleshy, and his muscles bulged like small hills.
Zhao Dong raised an eyebrow. He could tell at a glance that this man was a formidable fighter, at least on par with a special forces soldier.
"I asked you a question! What are you doing here?" the man in black demanded impatiently.
Zhao Dong smiled. "Buddy, I'm here to see someone."
"Who?"
"Zhang Ze."
"You're looking for the Young Master?"
The large man frowned, scrutinizing Zhao Dong before pulling out his phone. "Wait a minute. I'll call the Young Master."
Just as he raised the phone, Zhao Dong's figure flashed, appearing instantly before the man. He threw a single punch straight into his chest.
The man was sent flying, crashing to the ground. His eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.
