“Ram them,” Dustin said decisively. Natasha understood immediately. There was a sharp glint in her eyes as she floored the gas and drove straight at Gilbert and his men.
Gilbert was startled and quickly jumped out of the way. Two of his men weren’t fast. enough and got knocked to the ground.
She shifted the gear into reverse and floored the gas again, scattering the group before backing straight into the cars blocking the intersection. The impact knocked the blocking vehicle to the side, opening a path.
Their plan worked. Without hesitation, Natasha spun the wheel and executed a perfect drift. The car sped through the opening and off into the distance.
“Dammit! Go after them. Don’t let them get away,” Gilbert roared, scrambling to his feet. He was covered in grime and shaking with fury.
Frederick crushed his cigar under his heel and got into his car, his expression grim.
Engines roared as eight vans took off after the fleeing red sports car. A high-speed chase through the streets unfolded under the cover of night.
Natasha was an excellent driver. She wove through traffic, drifting around corners. and making sharp turns to shake off their pursuers.
Dustin kept his eyes on the vans behind them, shouting warnings about the pursuers’ positions and obstacles ahead.
But there were too many vehicles chasing them, and the drivers knew what they were doing. They stayed right on their tail.
After a frantic chase, Natasha’s car was finally forced onto a massive overpass spanning the river. The bridge was wide, but Gilbert’s convoy had it completely blocked off at both ends. With nowhere left to go, Natasha slammed her hand against the steering wheel.
Dustin watched the thugs pour out of their vehicles and close in. He took a deep breath, unbuckled his seatbelt, and removed the expensive suit jacket she had bought him earlier. He tossed it onto the seat, leaving only his white dress shirt.
“Stay in the car and lock the doors.” His voice was calm, but his eyes were resolute. “I’ll go down and hold them off until reinforcements arrive.”
“Be careful.”
Natasha was worried, but she trusted Dustin enough not to stop him. She knew he was more than capable of handling these thugs if it came to a fight.
Dustin stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him. The night breeze ruffled his white shirt, outlining his tall frame.
He stood alone, facing dozens of armed thugs with vicious expressions. There wasn’t a trace of fear in his eyes. Instead, he looked cold and completely calm.
Gilbert was stunned when Dustin actually got out of the car alone. Then he let out a mocking laugh.
“Look at this idiot. He must have a death wish. Take him down!” he barked. Frederick leaned against his car, watching with cold indifference.
“Kill him!”
Dozens of thugs roared and rushed toward Dustin. Dustin narrowed his eyes. Rather than facing them head-on in the open, he nimbly flipped backward and landed onto the slightly elevated pedestrian walkway along the bridge’s edge. He knew the narrow space would force them to come at him in smaller numbers.
The fight erupted instantly.
Though he could no longer use his cultivation, his combat instincts, techniques, and timing were still second nature to him. He struck like lightning with his fists, elbows, knees, and legs. Every move was ruthless and precise.
Dustin’s fist smashed into one thug’s nose. The man screamed as blood sprayed from his face, and he hit the ground.
Next, a side kick landed squarely on another thug’s knee. The sickening sound of breaking bone was followed by howls of pain as the thug crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg.
Then a hand strike to the side of a club-wielding thug’s neck. He didn’t even make a sound before he went limp and fell.
Dustin moved between them like water flowing through gaps, dodging and weaving through the narrow walkway Every time he attacked, another man went down.
But even the best fighter couldn’t hold off a mob forever. He was mortal now, with limited stamina and no enhanced senses. Against the clubs and blades coming from every direction, taking hits was inevitable.
Just then, a steel pipe slammed into his back, making him stumble forward as pain shot through his chest. A machete grazed his arm, tearing through his shirt and leaving a bloody gash.
Pain shot through him, but his eyes remained ice-cold, and his movements didn’t falter. If anything, the injuries made him fight even more viciously. In less than ten minutes, over a dozen thugs lay groaning on the walkway
Dustin’s white shirt was soaked with sweat, streaked with dirt, and splattered with blood. His breathing had turned ragged, sweat beading on his forehead. Even his movements were noticeably slower than when he’d started.
Inside the car, Natasha watched with her heart in her throat, her palms slick with sweat. Every blow he took felt like a knife twisting in her chest.
Then one of the thugs saw an opening while Dustin blocked an attack from the side. He raised his club and swung it hard at the back of Dustin’s head.
“No!” Natasha screamed, her eyes widening. She couldn’t hold back anymore and pulled out a compact pistol. She aimed at the thug trying to ambush Dustin and pulled the trigger without hesitation. Two sharp gunshots cut through the chaos of the night.
