438: Chapter 445: Ambushed 438: Chapter 445: Ambushed For two consecutive days, Gina Lopez hadn’t returned ho.
Emily Lopez was growing increasingly anxious, while Jas Brown’s mood had settled into calm.
He had originally thought that returning to the city would allow him to live a peaceful life—get married, enjoy dostic bliss—but it seed this romantic life wasn’t going well.
It was evident that such an easygoing lifestyle would be out of reach.
Knowing that Gina Lopez wouldn’t be coming ho tonight either, Jas Brown decided he wouldn’t bother returning either.
Although Emily Lopez was charming, she wasn’t his wife after all.
Things had beco so complicated with Gina already, and he certainly didn’t want any ambiguous entanglent with Emily Lopez.
It had been a long ti since his last visit to a bar, but tonight Jas Brown found himself stepping into one again.
Drinking a bit to unwind seed like a good choice.
If Jas wanted company, a quick phone call would still summon several familiar faces—Helen Wilson, Sarah Utah—but tonight, Jas simply wanted to drink alone.
“Sir, here’s your drink!” It was still early, and the bar was relatively empty.
A waiter ca over with a tray, which held a bottle of white liquor, a glass, and several small dishes of dried snacks.
Jas nodded.
The waiter placed the tray down on the table—a routine action that seed perfectly normal.
But suddenly, Jas’s instincts scread at him.
His body reacted instantly, leaning swiftly back.
His sharp eyes caught a flash of cold steel heading straight for his chest.
It was a dagger—short blade, short handle, but alarmingly sharp.
The strike aid directly at Jas’s vital chest area, executed swiftly and with full force.
If that dagger hit, Jas knew it would an the end of his life.
His abrupt lean backward had bought him precious ti.
Behind him sat the booth’s backrest, leaving no room to retreat further.
But his hand shot out, targeting the waiter’s wrist in a split-second move.
The waiter’s hand flicked, as agile as a serpent, redirecting the dagger’s trajectory with spine-chilling precision, and lunged at Jas again.
Before the dagger could reach him, however, the waiter retreated abruptly—because a solid tabletop was hurtling straight at him.
Jas’s survival instincts and combat reflexes were remarkably sharp.
Even though he hadn’t actively trained in recent days, it hadn’t dulled his skills.
While his hand reached for the would-be assassin’s wrist, his foot had already kicked the table up into the air.
To Jas, anything within reach could beco a weapon.
The table forced the waiter to pull back, giving Jas the chance to spring up in pursuit.
Without hesitation, he lunged at the man.
There was no room for rcy towards soone aiming to take his life.
The waiter, realizing his initial attack failed, didn’t flee.
Spinning his left hand, another dagger appeared.
Now ard with blades in both hands, he let out a sharp cry and rushed at Jas with renewed ferocity.
As the waiter charged, two shadows darted in from the sides.
Two long knives flashed toward Jas, perfectly coordinated with the front attacker, crafting an inescapable wave of rciless strikes as fluid and overwhelming as rcury spilled on the ground.
Jas felt a shiver of unease.
These three assassins weren’t only exceptionally skilled; what shocked him the most was their ability to conceal their murderous aura entirely before striking.
He realized their stealth capabilities were incredibly refined.
Even more puzzling was their ambush within this bar.
Jas hadn’t been to such a venue in ages—how could they have anticipated he’d show up tonight?
But there was no ti for such thoughts now; eliminating these three attackers took precedence.
With a low growl, Jas executed a sudden, unnatural twist of his body.
He narrowly dodged the long knife from the attacker on the left, surged forward to collide with his torso, slipped past the front attacker’s dagger, and outmaneuvered the long knife from the right entirely.
The left attacker’s weapon was effective in long-range combat, but now Jas had closed the gap, rendering the blade useless.
The man’s response was swift: abandoning his knife mid-move, he launched dual punches—one toward Jas’s face, the other at his chest—seeking to force him back where teammates could strike again.
Otherwise, he risked becoming a shield for Jas himself.
But Jas foresaw this ploy.
He wasn’t about to let it succeed.
Tilting his head slightly, he dodged the first fist and drove his shoulder into the second punch as it ca forward.
Caught off guard, the man’s blows lacked full force, as his energy had been divided between both fists.
anwhile, Jas’s shoulder-delivered strike packed maximum strength, calculated precisely for impact.
The attacker’s fist collided with Jas’s shoulder like slamming into a boulder—and Jas, a virtual human tank, sent him flying backward.
“Crash!” The man instinctively twisted his body mid-air to reduce the damage from Jas’s strike.
But even so, he crashed heavily into a sturdy table, obliterating it upon impact.
That table, durable enough to withstand a person’s weight, simply couldn’t bear the additional raw force Jas had applied.
It splintered upon impact.
As the first attacker flew, Jas had already engaged the other two.
Despite their deadly blades, Jas fought back barehanded—yet he wasn’t disadvantaged.
On the contrary, his relentless offense kept them retreating step by step.
Jas’s entire body seed weaponized; any part of him that struck the assassins caused damage no less devastating than their dagger’s edge.
The first man, wounded from Jas’s earlier strike, now forced himself back onto his feet.
Though injured, he was undeniably skilled, withstanding considerable damage.
To suffer an injury so quickly in a three-on-one scenario was humiliating in his eyes.
Roaring furiously, he rejoined the fight.
Their combined assault gained renewed power.
Jas montarily appeared trapped in a reactive position.
Yet he remained utterly composed, for he wasn’t exerting his full strength.
He waited—he knew there must be more involved than these three.
Their ambush implied they had thoroughly studied his movents, yet he knew next to nothing about them.
Jas hated being in the dark; he needed to uncover the mastermind behind this.
However, it seed the hidden players exhibited exceptional patience, holding back as they sought an opening.
That left Jas with no choice but to create one deliberately.
“Die!” Jas roared, thrusting a straight punch toward the front attacker.
The man struck by that punch was the sa one Jas had injured earlier.
He had now retrieved his long knife and t Jas’s inexorable blow with his blade.
Fueled by desperation, he lunged forward, aiming to pierce Jas’s fist.
anwhile, the other two assassins simultaneously launched coordinated strikes at Jas’s flanks.
Their plan was clear: leave Jas no room to evade, forcing him to confront the frontal attack head-on.
Jas appeared to fall into their trap, his fist charging relentlessly forward.
Within monts, it collided with the blade.
“Slash!” The long knife cut through cleanly, seemingly impaling Jas’s fist and arm right through.
The two attackers felt elation; if Jas had sacrificed an arm in such desperation, he would lose all capability to fight back in their encirclent.
“Ah!” But instead of Jas, the front man emitted a blood-curdling scream as his body went sailing backward.
The long knife remained in his hand, but it bore no trace of blood.
Crashing into yet another table, this ti the man stayed down for good.
Jas’s punch had smashed six or seven ribs in his chest, the shards piercing his lungs catastrophically.
While externally free of blood, the internal damage proved fatal—there was no chance for survival.
The two remaining attackers froze instinctively.
In a battle between skilled warriors, hesitation could an defeat.
Lacking Jas’s raw strength, their montary lapse in awareness allowed Jas to close in.
Overwheld, they stumbled back frantically.
“Bang!
Bang!” In rapid succession, the two n were sent flying by Jas’s strikes.
Upon landing, they spat blood onto the ground.
They forced themselves upright but their wobbling bodies revealed the severity of their injuries.
“You dare to try and ambush ?” Jas glowered, his ferocious gaze scanning them.
“Who are you?”
They responded with silence, cold hatred glimring in their blood-specked faces.
“Speak!” Jas grabbed one by the throat, lifting him effortlessly.
The man struggled to breathe but refused to fight back, glaring daggers at Jas wordlessly.
Sothing about the man’s look made Jas frown.
The pure enmity in his eyes suggested deep hatred—this wasn’t random.
During his days in the Hawk Squad, Jas had completed nurous missions and killed countless enemies.
Earning vengeful adversaries was nothing new.
However, his military identity had always been secret, his exit covert.
How had old foes found him here, back in the city?
As Jas montarily pondered, a black dagger suddenly flew toward him from behind—silent and icy, its small size masking its deadly precision.
Jas seed entirely unaware as the dagger plunged straight into his back, burying itself to the hilt.
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