CHAPTER 131: CHAPTER 65: EXECUTION!

"Kneel down!"

My words were simple, yet carried an irrefutable command.

Watching me kill, Farrell’s men clasped their heads and knelt on the ground.

"Who are you?"

Farrell slowly knelt next to his desk, glaring at me, "Do you know who I am?"

"Do you know who I am?" I walked up with a smile.

Same question, same answer.

Farrell shut his mouth.

"Let me introduce myself, I’m Kenny, Kenny Clark!"

"Fuck!" Farrell stared at my cheek, "Executioner Kenny Clark?"

"That’s me." I walked up to Farrell, pointing to the secretary beside him. "Woman, don’t look, turn around!"

The female secretary turned, I could see her hips trembling, she was terrified.

The henchmen one by one lowered their heads, trembling all over.

Kenny Clark, the butcher of Miami, represented madness and death!

Executioner Kenny Clark?

Mia was equally shocked, she knew very well what this title represented, executioner, headsman, butcher!

A childhood playmate had such a terrifying title, Kenny, what on earth did you do?

Mia had many questions she wanted me to answer, but I had no time.

I sat on the desk, fiddling with the knife on the table, feeling its blade, "What a nice dagger! SOG S37, with anti-reflective finish, very beautiful! It’s the favorite dagger of the American special forces."

"What do you want?" Farrell looked up at me.

I stood up from the table, pinched Farrell’s jaw, pulled up his right hand, pressed it on the table, raised the dagger, and stabbed fiercely, thud!

The dagger pierced through the palm, nailing it to the table.

Blood spurted on the tabletop, Farrell’s face turned pale, "Ah, ah, ah, fuck!"

The female secretary heard Farrell’s screams, she looked down at the ground, sobbing quietly, her body trembling uncontrollably, she was scared to the extreme.

Farrell’s henchmen also stared at the floor, biting their lips, they feared what would happen next.

No one knew what their fate would be.

I stood behind Farrell, took out my Phoenix Beak Knife, the left hand fixed Farrell’s jaw, the right hand’s dagger pressed against his neck.

"Everyone except the woman, turn around!"

Farrell’s henchmen knelt while turning their bodies, looking in my direction.

"Look at me."

The Latino men stared at my figure.

At this moment, I was like an executioner, standing behind Farrell.

"Wait, please, I’ll give you whatever you want!"

Farrell shouted.

"Money, I have money, I’ll give it to you! It’s in my desk drawer; I also have savings, Cayman Bank, I have seven million US Dollars, I’ll give it all to you."

"Money is worthless!"

My voice was deep. Accepting deposits would make it easy for the FBI to trace me!

Farrell trembled all over, "No, don’t!"

"No, you have no power to refuse, now, you, all of you must face my wrath!"

"No!"

My dagger slowly sliced Farrell’s throat.

Blood sprayed, just like a fountain.

Farrell was like a chicken, a livestock, slaughtered by me.

A massive amount of blood sprayed across the floor, spreading outward.

I let go, Farrell clutched his throat, knelt on the floor, his eyes void staring at the henchmen ahead.

He wanted to speak but couldn’t make a sound, his windpipe was severed.

"Ugh!"

The secretary’s legs went wet, she was so scared she lost control, urine trickled down her thighs onto the floor.

The kneeling henchmen bowed their heads, not daring to look at me.

At this moment, I was like a Death God, no, a true butcher.

I walked up to the water dispenser, slowly washed the blood off my hands.

The office area was frighteningly silent.

Everyone trembled, my slow actions exerted immense pressure on them.

"Does anyone challenge me?"

No one spoke.

"Does anyone wish to defy me?"

Still, no one spoke.

"Seems like we get along very well! Now, who can tell me, where are the smuggled Colombians? The first to answer gets a reward!"

The henchmen didn’t speak.

A voice came from the corner, "They’re leaving by speedboat tonight, boarding at international waters, then heading to Cuba."

"Good girl! Continue!"

"The cargo ship at 11 PM, 40 nautical miles off the coastline."

"I like you!" I opened Farrell’s drawer, took out 20,000 US Dollars in cash, and tossed it at the secretary’s feet.

Looking at the cash, the secretary picked it up, staring at me fearfully. "That’s all I know."

"No problem. Did I forget to say something?"

"Thank you!" the secretary bowed her head, trembling.

"You’re welcome! That’s your reward. Anyone else willing to tell me? I need to know where they’re hiding? The first to answer still gets a reward. If no one tells me, you will all die!"

I pointed at Farrell’s henchmen.

"I know."

"They’re hiding in an old warehouse near the Big Swamp Park."

"Damn, I was the first to answer, they’re in the old warehouse, it’s where we used to store spare parts. There’s no one around!"

"How many of them?"

I squatted in front of the henchmen.

"Seven! The leader is Pioselli!"

"Good! Any women?" I took out a cigarette and lit it for one of them.

"There’s one, very pretty, great figure. Curly brown hair, approximately 174 cm tall!"

The man with the cigarette trembled, with a terrified expression.

"What weapons do they have?"

"Sorry, I don’t know, but they have pistols."

I patted the shoulder of the one I spoke to, "I’m very satisfied with your honesty. Now, this place belongs to you, the others who answered my questions, can take the cash in the drawer."