The gunfire suddenly intensified, ringing out in a chaotic hail.
Ferguson froze as one of his subordinates rushed in from outside, panic-stricken, "Boss, boss, it's bad, the police have stormed in, the brothers can't hold them off."
"What!"
Ferguson's face went pale; how could something like this happen at such a critical moment?
On the other side, Hoffman was startled, cold sweat instantly streaming down his face; he ran to the window in two quick steps and looked outside.
Police cars gathered outside, and a large force was aggressively attacking the factory.
Facing the well-trained police from the Beautiful Country, those gang members who usually flaunted their power in front of ordinary people couldn't resist at all, either fleeing or surrendering on the spot. Few dared to fight to the death.
They were just a gang, not an army; even the military rarely fights to the death without retreat.
Hoo!
