Sure enough, after pushing all the hostages into the living room, a leader, a black man standing at about six-foot-three in tattered military uniform, spoke to everyone in broken English:

"Hi, everyone, my name is Schiller. We only seek wealth. If you cooperate and come with us, as long as we get the ransom, we will naturally release you."

After Schiller finished speaking, he ignored the cries among the passengers and nodded to his soldiers, signaling them to start loading the hostages into the vehicles outside.

"You can't capture us. We are Americans." Suddenly, a voice rang out among the crowd.

Ye Qiu turned his head to look, and it was James, whom Ye Qiu had beaten up on the plane.

James now wore a terrified expression, cold sweat streaming down his forehead. He could only hope that his identity would intimidate the captors.

If taken into the enemy's base, survival would be uncertain!

"Americans?"

Hearing this identity, Schiller, the leader, indeed hesitated, showing signs of uncertainty on his face.

The United States is a global power, and in Africa, there has always been admiration and awe for Americans. Even though Schiller was a ruthless killer, he was still cautious of the American identity.

"Who among you is American?" Schiller asked.

"I am..."

"Me too..."

Saying this, these people took out their passports from their clothes. Schiller took a look after receiving them from a soldier, and indeed they were American passports, so he nodded: "All Americans, pay a ten thousand US Dollar fine and get out of here!"

James and the others were overjoyed. Initially, they thought they would lose everything this time, but they didn't expect the American identity to be so useful. For just ten thousand US Dollars, they could get out of the situation. To think, he had fifty thousand US Dollars in cash in his pocket for this occasion.

James and the others, delighted, paid the fine one after another and left merrily.

At this moment, seeing James and the others leave, a Chinese man suddenly spoke in English: "Hello, I am Chinese. I am willing to pay ten thousand US Dollars, please let me go."

Schiller, upon hearing this, sneered disdainfully and waved his finger lightly: "Chinese?—no!"

Though the words were simple, there were at least twenty Chinese people in the hall, and their spirits immediately fell.

Oh well!

"The rest, come with us. If you don't obey, you'll die!" Schiller said coldly.

"Wait, I am also an American!" At this moment, someone raised their hand and slowly stood up.

Ye Qiu looked, and it turned out to be Qin Hao.

"You're also American, but your skin is damn yellow?" Schiller sneered with a mocking smile.

"I really am an American!" Qin Hao said with a thick face. In reality, he didn't even have a US green card, and because of lying, his forehead was covered with sweat.

"Then your passport?" Schiller asked.

"I accidentally lost my passport, but I really am American. If you don't believe me, ask them." Qin Hao suddenly pointed to James and the others who hadn't yet left the door.

"Yes, yes, he's one of us Americans, he just lost his passport." James was quite satisfied with Qin Hao who was good at brown-nosing, and at this moment, helped him cover up the lie.

"Then pay the fine and get out!" Schiller said impatiently.

For killing Americans, he felt considerable pressure.

Qin Hao was overjoyed. He didn't expect a fake American identity to work, which spurred his eagerness to obtain a US green card.

The expression of relief on Qin Hao's face was filled with contempt among all the Chinese people present.

After all, clearly having yellow skin, yet insisting on claiming to be American and boasting about it—is such a person worthy of respect?

Seeing Qin Hao approach, James suddenly noticed Ye Qiu among the crowd, and cunningly shouted: "Dear African leader, I know there's a very wealthy Chinese businessman here."

"Oh? Who?" Schiller's eyes narrowed, money always piqued his interest.

"It's him. His assets are at least a billion dollars. He can meet all your demands, trust me," James vowed.

After all, he was about to leave, and as to whether Ye Qiu could pay enough of a fine, Schiller couldn't do anything about that later.

In times of chaos, Schiller was a typical bloodthirsty military man, and adopting a "better safe than sorry" attitude, he told a nearby soldier: "Go grab that yellow-skinned kid, he might just be a gold mine!"

"Yes, sir!" The black soldier's eyes were also sparkling with greed as he looked at Ye Qiu as if seeing a pile of gold.

However, the black soldier's attitude towards captives was not pleasant. As he approached, he tried to grab Ye Qiu by the hair.

"Huh?"

The black soldier's hand had just reached out when he found his arm being gripped tightly by an iron-like hand.

Crack!

The black soldier's arm twisted into an unimaginable angle.

"Ah!"

He had just let out a scream when he felt a powerful and terrifying force hit his abdomen. Suddenly, his whole body flew out like a cannonball, crashing into a wall over a dozen meters away, landing with a thud, vomited a mouthful of blood, and died on the spot.

Ye Qiu's movements were swift and clean. After kicking the black soldier, before everyone could process it, he was already five meters away. There were three soldiers with machine guns there.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Three dull sounds echoed unexpectedly. The three soldiers didn't even notice what happened, nor did they have time to let out a scream, and fell directly to the ground.

One had his neck broken by Ye Qiu, and the other two were struck directly in the back of the head, resulting in instant death!

His series of actions were as quick as lightning, even the soldiers accustomed to life-and-death battles were left stunned.

"Is this what they call Chinese kung fu!"

A black soldier exclaimed in shock, and the other soldiers wore expressions of disbelief.

Indeed, they had never seen such rapid attacks before.

The more than twenty Chinese people beside them were all filled with joy: "Well done!"

In any case, Ye Qiu had boosted the morale of the Chinese people.

The black soldiers were genuinely too overbearing earlier. Why should Americans be superior, while even paying money couldn't redeem the Chinese? Now they knew the prowess of Chinese martial arts!

Other onlookers from different countries were also exclaiming in surprise. They didn't expect the seemingly not-so-tall Chinese kid to be so formidable, taking down four black soldiers in one swoop.

The only unhappy person was James, who egged on from the side: "Shoot quickly, no matter how powerful the martial arts, it's still afraid of bullets."

This reminder prompted the black soldiers to react.

Leader Schiller shouted: "You idiots, get rid of that Chinese boy quickly. Do you think any martial arts can withstand the bullets in your guns?"

At his words, a dozen black soldiers around simultaneously aimed their deadly gun barrels at Ye Qiu, ready to shoot him.

Seeing this scene, the Chinese people in the arena panicked in fear.

"Young man, run quickly!"

"Run, hurry to the Chinese embassy."

"Run!"

Cries echoed, showing the solidarity of the Chinese people.

Dark gun barrels all pointed at Ye Qiu!

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