Chapter 315

Chapter 315:

The other thugs scattered in terror. Atley, stunned by Ashton’s audacity, panicked and stumbled over his own feet.

In that heart-stopping moment, Atley was certain he was about to be flattened.

However, just as despair gripped him, Ashton’s car screeched to a halt, stopping mere inches from him.

Then, as if it were nothing, Ashton casually stepped out of the car.

Atley’s heart pounded in his chest as he regained his composure, his initial embarrassment quickly turning to rage.

“You bastard, you’ve got some nerve scaring me like that! If you’re so eager to die, don’t blame me for being merciless!” He then ordered his men, “What are you waiting for? Get this little punk! Don’t hold back—kill him if you have to! We’re in a place where his screams won’t be heard!”

At Atley’s command, the other thugs snapped out of their stupor and charged at Ashton, roaring.

But instead of fear, Ashton took the initiative and launched an attack, his boot connecting with Atley and sending him crashing to the ground in agony.

The sight of Atley’s fall stunned the advancing thugs, who froze in place, too shocked to react.

Ashton, however, didn’t hesitate. With one arm, he seized the burly Atley and hurled him like a missile into the cluster of thugs still standing in shock.

The impact was devastating, like being hit by a freight train.

The thugs collapsed, groaning in pain, completely immobilized. Ashton then picked up a steel rod that had clattered to the ground and charged at another group of thugs.

Realizing the tide had turned, this group quickly surrounded Ashton, ready to strike.

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But Ashton moved with lethal precision. He didn’t stop until the steel rod in his grasp was twisted beyond recognition, and a dozen or so thugs lay defeated around him. Astonishingly, not a single mark marred Ashton’s body.

Although the fight should have heavily favored Atley’s men due to their numbers, the reality was a crushing defeat for them.

Ashton tossed aside the mangled steel rod and strode over to where Atley lay, planting his foot firmly on his chest.

“I’ll give you one chance. Who sent you after me?” Ashton demanded, his voice cold and commanding.

Atley, trembling with pain, stuttered, “Please, don’t do this, man. You have to understand, we’re just hired hands, doing what we’re told. I really don’t know who gave the orders!”

Ashton picked up another steel rod, pressing it menacingly against Atley’s forehead. His tone was icy. “Not telling the truth, huh? This could get messy.”

Terrified, Atley wet his pants and blurted out in panic, “Please, don’t kill me! I swear I don’t know anything! We were just told to stir up trouble, and if we saw someone as composed as you, we were to drag you to a secluded spot and cripple you—that’s all I know, I swear! Please, don’t kill me!”

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