The crisp sound abruptly silenced the leader's words.
He looked down at his wrist, now grasped in Jason's hand—the same hand that had held the dagger, which should have been poised at Jason's nape at this moment.
However, Jason had slightly shifted his body, causing the dagger to miss its mark, and Jason's right hand had shot out to seize his wrist.
What mattered most was when Jason twisted his wrist with force.
An incomparable pain surged to the leader's brain.
His grip failed him, and as it loosened, the dagger was effortlessly caught in Jason's left hand.
Then, Jason, who had been with his back to him, spun around and stood up.
During this movement, Jason's right hand, still holding the other's wrist, continued in motion.
"It hurts, it hurts!"
Amidst agonized cries, the leader, following the twist of his wrist, turned from facing Jason to having his back to him, his elbow locked straight.
"Do you even know who you're striking at?"
The six or seven men who had followed the leader charged over furiously.
Having a numerical advantage always creates the illusion of strength.
In reality, no matter how many weaklings gather, a quantitative change doesn't necessarily lead to a qualitative one.
What you get is just... a mob!
Jason didn't alter his grip on the leader's wrist; he just swung his arm with force, spinning the man around like a specially designed Wolf Fang Club.
Swing left, smash right!
A series of collision sounds followed, and the men who had just rushed over all fell to the ground.
They each rolled and groaned on the floor.
Jason then hurled the leader towards the four people who had first entered, across the distance.
Amidst cries of pain, the first four to enter turned around to look in this direction.
But everything happened so fast that before they could come to their leader's aid, he was already thrown at them.
Instinctively, the four stretched out their arms to catch their boss, but as soon as their arms touched his body, an immense force erupted from it.
With the sounds of bones breaking, the four men became tumbling gourds on the floor.
Cries of agony rose once again.
And at that moment, Kemi finally recovered her senses and stood up, staring at Jason with wide eyes, her mouth opening instinctively, yet not knowing what to say.
Kemi knew Jason was strong; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to rescue her.
But she had never seen Jason in action before.
Now that she did, she was truly shocked.
Jason, a tall and burly man, certainly possessed great strength.
Anyone would confirm that at a glance.
Using a person as a weapon and then throwing him—wasn't that a bit too exaggerated?
Keep in mind, the man wasn't frail; to the average person, he was tall and strong.
Kemi said nervously, reaching out to tug at Jason's sleeve.
It was obviously time to leave first and foremost.
After she saved up enough!
But Kemi clutched at the air, as Jason easily avoided her hand and turned toward the interior of the restaurant.
"Don't come any closer!"
Men who had seemed fierce and vicious just a moment ago could now only wail on the floor.
Even if they still tried to appear ferocious, their cries rendered them hollow threats.
Jason didn't even spare them a glance.
His eyes were on the kitchen now.
A waiter holding a shotgun stepped out.
Jason looked calmly at the barrel pointed at him, while the waiter holding the gun turned pale, especially when Jason's gaze met his.
The waiter emphasized again.
Then, he raised his voice.
"Do you know whose turf this is?"
"This is Emod's turf!"
"If you keep this up, Emod won't let you off!"
This restaurant belongs to Emod?
Jason was quite surprised.
Then, he glanced at Kemi and at the younger girl hiding behind the middle-aged man.
Suddenly, he remembered the conversation between two of Emod's men he had overheard in the surveillance room.
Before abducting women at special occasions, they would scout for potential victims.
No doubt, this was one of those places for scouting.
One could take action right here.
A restaurant late in the night, with hardly anyone around, streets deserted—what place could be more perfect?
And it wasn't mere speculation!
Just look at those men lying on the ground.
If it were anyone else, they would have already been taken away.
As for calling the police?
Would you expect this waiter with a shotgun to make the call?
He would only clean up the traces.
Make everything spotless.
Jason's head turns and his contemplative demeanor obviously led to some misunderstanding in the waiter; his frantic heart steadied a bit, and his gun-holding hand stopped shaking.
"It seems you know Mr. Emod."
"Now please leave at once."
"I'll pretend nothing has hap..."
The waiter started with a calm voice.
Of course, that calm only lasted as long as Jason remained still.