The crowd gathered at the funeral was composed of hardened individuals, people who had seen and experienced much in life. Yet, when the sound of gunfire echoed through the solemn mourning hall, even they were momentarily stunned.
Even the younger ones, like Ye Jing and Lin Ling, who might have been less exposed to violence in real life, recognized the sound, having heard it on TV countless times.
Everyone instinctively turned toward the source of the shot, and what they saw left them speechless. Hu Yibiao, who had strutted into the hall just moments earlier with arrogance and disdain, lay on the floor. A small, clean hole pierced through the middle of his forehead, with blood slowly oozing out.
The once proud leader of the Qinglong Gang was dead. His eyes were still wide open in disbelief, as though even in his final moments, he couldn’t fathom that Ye Fei, a boy barely eighteen, would dare to kill him—and in front of so many witnesses.