The next mont.
The alcohol finally poured out of the bottle.
And gunfire, too, erupted from outside the house at the right mont.
Yet inside the house, there was still no sound of gunfire; the alcohol continued to flow, drop by drop, spreading a transparent hue, the aroma of the wine wafting through the air.
It was indeed a fine bottle of wine.
"Aren’t you worried about your n at all?"
Johnson continued to stare into Ethan’s eyes, seemingly wanting to see sothing else appear in them.
Another emotion, another thought, anything, any fleeting possibility.
That would be the perfect mont.
However, Johnson was destined to be disappointed.
Because there was nothing in Ethan’s eyes, only calmness, a deathly calmness, without the slightest ripple.
He seed to be doing nothing but one thing—pouring wine, letting the wine fill the glass.
Apart from that, nothing else seed to matter to him, including the gunfight occurring outside the house.
He probably didn’t know how many enemies there were, what kind of ambush awaited, or what kind of casualties his n might face.
Yet, he seed completely unconcerned.
"Let’s drink; this is good wine, isn’t it a sha not to drink it right away?"
Ethan was still smiling.
Even the man called Vincent beside him was unfazed, seemingly unconcerned about the events happening outside.
This made Johnson straighten involuntarily.
The young man nad Ethan in front of him was even harder to deal with than he had imagined.
No, it should be said, completely beyond his expectations.
Initially, in his imagination, even if Ethan was formidable, he was still just a young man.
He had t too many excellent young people, most of whom were overly confident yet overly fragile.
Such young people were the easiest to crush; just find their most confident point and suddenly take action.
But this person in front of him...
Left him unable to find a point of attack.
Like a still, tranquil lake.
"Drink now, why not drink? Do you want so, Roy?"
Ethan was still speaking, and as he talked, he glanced at the lean Roy beside him.
His movent was absolutely casual, his gaze even shifted, yet Johnson dared not move.
In contrast, the always-ready lean Roy was caught off guard by the question, unexpectedly at a loss for words, stunned in place.
"I... I guess I shouldn’t."
He was afraid of stepping into this battlefield.
As soon as those words left his mouth, he regretted them.
He felt suppressed by the young man in front of him.
But when he wanted to speak again, the mont had passed.
Johnson had already taken over the conversation.
"Indeed, we should drink; at such a ti, we should celebrate, shouldn’t we? Roy, you have a drink too."
Johnson’s eyes still dared not look away; as he picked up his glass to drink, his eyes remained fixed on Ethan, without the slightest wavering.
"Of course, I’ll drink, indeed... we should celebrate."
As Roy said this, Ethan was already pouring him wine.
When the wine was finished pouring, Roy picked it up and drank it in one gulp.
The gunfire outside still hadn’t stopped.
"Who do you think will win?"
Johnson tested again.
"Vincent, what do you think?"
Ethan glanced at Vincent.
Vincent chuckled, "Of course, our people."
So Ethan laughed too.
"That confident?"
Johnson also showed a faint smile.
"It’s not confidence."
Ethan’s answer once again exceeded Johnson’s expectations.
Ethan was still smiling, saying, "I laugh because so people are truly stupid."
"Stupid?"
Johnson raised an eyebrow.
If it were such a retort, it would be aningless.
Young people are just young.
No need to wait anymore.
He almost got bluffed by this guy earlier.
"Indeed, very stupid, don’t you think, Vincent?"
"Indeed very stupid."
Vincent nodded.
"Where’s the stupidity?"
"The stupidity lies in their complete lack of acquaintance with who we are and their complete ignorance of what we do."
This made Johnson even more relaxed, as the two brothers in front of him seemingly had no idea what they were talking about.
So then...
"What do you guys do?"
The lean Roy asked, full of suspicion.
"We run a bootlegging operation; everyone knows our moonshine is the finest. This bottle in our hands is also a Bolita Clan product."
"So what?"
Roy asked again subconsciously.
Yes, so what, even if it’s their wine, could they have pre-poisoned it?
Even if it were poisoned, so what?
Given his capabilities...
As Johnson thought of this, Ethan’s smile grew even more intense.
"It’s nothing, but... you might just die a little faster."
"What did you say?!"
The lean Roy finally couldn’t hold back any longer; he went to draw his gun, but halfway through, he already felt his hand losing strength.
As if sothing had numbed it.
Is this...
Poison?!
Was it really poisoned?
When did it happen?
Johnson was also forced to act.
Likewise, he felt his actions and reactions slow down significantly, as if truly poisoned.
Impossible...
Given his capabilities.
While thinking this, Ethan’s gun was already against his forehead.
That long-missed ebony.
Ethan hadn’t used it to kill in a long ti.
"I laugh because it turns out so people would really deliver themselves to be killed by ."
He pulled the trigger.
Originally, in Ethan’s plan, this battle might have been fiercer; after all, if it was indeed the Eldest Prince’s setup, he should have been able to deploy so true experts to handle this.
Instead, no one expected the opponent to co up and drink, even with the wine their clan made.
It must be noted, with the Bolita Clan’s moonshine being distributed nationwide, his branch’s true na of ’The Wine’s Researcher and Modifier’ had further expanded, poised to produce new results at any ti.
Moreover, Ethan had gained so new abilities, like making those who drank their clan’s wine extrely drunk.
In fact, neither the lean Roy nor Johnson was poisoned; they rely beca excessively drunk in an instant.
Even with their bodies enhanced by the power of true nas, they couldn’t withstand it.
The trigger was pulled.
The bullet was fired.
In that instant, the seemingly empty house suddenly sprang to life with a group of burly n, all ard with military daggers, appearing incredibly formidable.
And Johnson, already targeted at his brow by Ethan, in that mont used whatever strength he had left to kick the table, the whole person falling backward, narrowly allowing the bullet to graze his scalp.
The gunfire was the signal.
"Kill him."
Johnson almost roared hoarsely.
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