Frank Foster was sitting on the sofa chair with his legs crossed, talking on the phone. When he saw Henry Carter walk in through the door, he was momentarily stunned. He hurriedly hung up the phone, stood up, and sneered, “Kid, you’ve got some nerve. Looks like you treated what I just said as if it went in one ear and out the other.”

Henry Carter grinned at Frank Foster, walked over to the chair opposite Frank Foster’s desk, plopped himself down, casually pulled out a cigarette, stuck it in his mouth, took a leisurely drag, crossed his legs, and tapped his lighter lightly on the desk.

“Boss Zhou, hand it over.”

Frank Foster sneered, “Hand over what?”

Henry Carter bared his teeth in a smile. “The debt. One million. Don’t tell me you don’t have the money…”

“I have the money,” Frank Foster sneered. “I already said just now, there’s a million in the safe in my office. The question is, do you have what it takes to take it?”

Henry Carter grinned, took a deep drag on his cigarette, then stubbed it out on the desk in front of him. “Good. I’m not afraid you won’t pay up, just afraid you really don’t have the money!”

Frank Foster looked at the black mark the cigarette butt left on the desk, sneered, and pressed the intercom on the desk. “Song San, bring a few people in.”

Henry Carter stood up, shrugged, and looked mockingly at Frank Foster. “Boss Zhou, I advise you to hand over the debt sooner rather than later, so things don’t get ugly…”

Frank Foster leaned back in his leather chair, hands crossed over his stomach, his gaze dark. “I think you’ve forgotten what happened to the last guy your company sent to collect. But I think you’ll find out soon enough…”

Bang.

The door was pushed open.

Four or five burly men rushed into the room, immediately surrounding Henry Carter, glaring at him menacingly. The leader, a fierce-looking man with a scar on his face, turned to Frank Foster for instructions. “Boss Zhou, what do we do?”

Frank Foster sneered, “This kid’s acting all tough. Teach him a lesson. Let him know this isn’t a place where he can act wild.”

The scar-faced man grinned viciously, clenching his fists so his knuckles cracked. “Don’t worry, Boss Zhou. I’ll beat him so bad even his mother won’t recognize him.”

Frank Foster snorted, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and got ready to watch the show.

The scar-faced man turned around, grinning wickedly at Henry Carter, and shouted, “Brothers, let’s give him a good beating…”

Before the scar-faced man could finish, Henry Carter suddenly reached out, grabbed his neck with one big hand, and yanked him down hard.

Bang!

The scar-faced man’s head made intimate contact with the solid wood desk. The huge impact made all the odds and ends on the desk jump.

Frank Foster had just settled in to watch the show, but this sudden crash startled him so much that the cigarette in his mouth fell out.

Henry Carter calmly let go, and the scar-faced man collapsed onto the desk like a limp noodle.

The other men, who were just about to make a move, were all startled, and their eyes filled with fear as they looked at Henry Carter.

The scar-faced man was Frank Foster’s top enforcer—ruthless and fearless—yet he’d been taken down in an instant?

Chapter 4: Who’s the Loser?

The entire office fell into an instant of extremely eerie silence.

A second later, Frank Foster jumped up from his leather chair as if bitten by a venomous snake, shouting, “All of you, get him! What are you standing around for?!”

Immediately, Frank Foster pressed the intercom again. “Li Quan, call everyone outside in here!”

The men exchanged glances, then charged at Henry Carter together. Henry Carter snorted coldly and took the initiative to charge at the thugs.

These men were more than enough to handle ordinary people, but in front of Henry Carter, they were like infants before an adult—utterly insignificant.

In just a few moves, Henry Carter had taken down several more, and at that moment, all the men who’d been playing cards downstairs rushed in.

Seeing Henry Carter as unstoppable as a raging tiger, Frank Foster’s eyes showed a hint of fear, and he shouted, “Get your weapons! Cripple him for me!”

In the crowd, several men simultaneously pulled out knives. A skinny man quietly approached Henry Carter from behind, his knife stabbing toward Henry Carter’s back like a venomous snake.

A murderous glint flashed in Henry Carter’s eyes. He reached back as if he had eyes in the back of his head, grabbed the man’s wrist, and twisted.

Crack!

Henry Carter could bend steel bars with his hands; breaking a man’s bones was child’s play.

The man’s knife clattered to the floor as he screamed, clutching his wrist and collapsing. The broken bone pierced through the skin, looking gruesome and terrifying.

Originally, Henry Carter had only intended to teach these men a lesson, but since they’d brazenly pulled knives and were clearly intent on crippling him, there was no reason for Henry Carter to show any mercy.

Henry Carter charged forward, leaving a trail of wailing behind him.

Those unarmed were kicked to the ground by Henry Carter; those with weapons had their bones broken by him. By the time Henry Carter finally stopped, there wasn’t a single person left standing in the office except for Henry Carter.