The heavy sound of a sharp snap cut through the chaotic air of the lounge as Issac Monroe’s boot connected with the lead guard's lower leg. The security officer's tibia buckled under the concentrated Force of the Dragon, sending him to the floor with a strangled cry of agony. Issac didn't pause; he utilized the man’s falling momentum as a pivot, lashing out with a ground-level sweep that sent another guard spinning across the marble floor like a discarded rag.
With the grace of a predator in its natural habitat, Issac launched himself into a mid-air spinning crescent kick. The strike was a textbook execution of Martial Skill, delivered with such explosive velocity that the three burly men in its path were lifted off their feet simultaneously. They crashed into the far wall with enough for
