The sky was dim, and the sound of gunfire reverberated throughout the jungle, occasionally punctuated by the bright flash of explosions.
Only about fifteen minutes had passed since the battle began, and the more than a hundred members of Zhiqing Hall who were involved in the fight were on the brink of collapse.
There was no helping it, just like Long Yu had said, the gap between professionals and amateurs was vast.
In reality, as the local powerhouse in Los Angeles, Zhiqing Hall's strength did not lie in direct confrontations. Its power was rooted in connections and influence in various facets. Simply put, if an external force suddenly came to challenge Zhiqing Hall, they would find every aspect of daily living, from clothing to food, restricted—even struggling to buy a loaf of bread. Whether it was the underworld or lawful society, Zhiqing Hall could teach anyone a lesson without lifting a finger themselves; local police could suffice to take the challengers in for "tea."
