"Go, deliver the message. Invite Fang to come and talk personally. Once he arrives, I will personally open the central gate to welcome him," said Duane.
Meanwhile, Fang had already arrived at the gates of the Washburn family's residence. Standing before the tightly closed gate, a glint of coldness flashed in his eyes.
"You useless fools, are you all just going to stand there and do nothing?"
Fang's subordinates, fully aware of his foul mood today, didn't dare make a sound.
"Mr. Fang, this estate has at least 100 guards inside. With our current numbers, we might not have enough strength to take it down."
"Hearing this, Fang's voice turned icy. "Not enough? Well, now, is this enough?"
At this moment, behind Fang stood a dense crowd of at least two to 300 men, all armed with swords. These were Fang's elite subordinates, more than enough to deal with standard security forces.
Of course, if they encountered highly trained elite guards, it might be a different story. After all, the underworld was a mix of all kinds—some were absurdly powerful, while others were no more than ordinary fighters.
At that moment, the gate slowly creaked open.
A bodyguard in a black suit stepped out, holding an umbrella. He glanced at Fang and his group before saying, "Mr. Washburn is aware that you are Fang's subordinates. He has something to say—please inform Mr. Fang to come personally for a discussion.
"Mr Washburn will personally open the gate to welcome him then. And one more thing—do not force your way in. Anyone who dares to break in should be prepared to face death."
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