Xu Xiangbei's peripheral vision had been fixed on the two elderly assassins, planning to take them on after defeating the skinny assassin.
But after dealing with the skinny one, he was surprised to find that the two elderly assassins, looking quite advanced in years, with gray hair, moved faster than young men.
They quickly pulled out long objects from the leisure bags under the table, wrapped tightly in cloth.
Xu Xiangbei sneered with disdain, "What are you holding there, wrapped up so tight? Afraid of the wind or of dropping it? Protecting it so well?"
The two old assassins paid him no mind, instead silently unwrapping the cloth strip from the long objects, and when Xu Xiangbei saw what they were, his face changed dramatically.
Those long objects weren't swords; instead, they were two crude homemade guns. Though the welding on the barrels was rough and slightly rusty, the crazed gleam of joy in the men's eyes told Xu Xiangbei that their guns were not toys.
