Megan Brooks led the oddly dressed Ethan Cooper. At first, she just felt a bit embarrassed, but when she heard that man call her “miss” with some filthy words mixed in, she instantly became both angry and ashamed. Ethan Cooper’s “miss” was a respectful address, but from this pimple-faced guy, it was loaded with heavy insult. She really wanted to rush over and dunk his head into the nearby fish tank to sober him up, see if he’d still dare to spew filth after just a couple drinks. But seeing how many people were with him, and holding onto the idea that a good woman doesn’t fight with men, she held back. She wasn’t about to punish herself for someone else’s mistakes—she had no interest in that!

Ethan Cooper didn’t react much, since he didn’t understand what the man was saying. He’d heard words like idiot, fool, even moron, but what did “kaizi” mean? He was still puzzling over it.

The only thing he found odd was why this man was dressed so gaudily like a woman, and why his hair was styled on top of his head like ostrich droppings!

Seeing that Megan Brooks didn’t respond, and instead lowered her head and tried to pull the oddly dressed “kaizi” away, the pimple-faced guy’s friends got even more excited. Amid their jeers, the drunken blond staggered out and blocked Megan Brooks’s path. “Hey, are you deaf? Our boss is talking to you!”

“I don’t know you. Move, I want to go home!” Megan Brooks snapped, trying to slip past the blond. If she couldn’t afford to mess with them, she could at least avoid them, right?

“Go home? With this sucker?” The blond sneered, pulling a few crumpled bills from his carrot-shaped jeans and waving them in front of Megan Brooks. “How much for the whole night? Name your price!” Then he pointed at Ethan Cooper. “Hey, dumbass, still sleepwalking? Get lost! Our boss wants this chick! You can go screw yourself tonight!”

Ethan Cooper barely understood half of what the blond said. Words like “overnight,” “kaizi,” and “dumbass” were all unfamiliar to him. Even if he half-understood, the blond’s expression and tone made it clear that nothing coming out of his mouth was decent. So Ethan Cooper’s face darkened. Turns out, thugs like this weren’t unique to Daliao. Everything here seemed strange and unfamiliar, but at least one thing was the same: human nature, with all its uneven, mixed qualities.

“Don’t pay attention to him, let’s go!” Megan Brooks felt the wrist she was holding suddenly turn hard. She looked up in confusion and saw a pair of cold, gloomy eyes. Just one glance sent chills down her spine, but he seemed completely unfazed, leaving her alone to recall that hard, icy, suffocating feeling, unable to recover herself for a long time.

The blond, emboldened by his numbers, didn’t take the oddly dressed Ethan Cooper seriously at all, nor did he care about Ethan Cooper’s changing expression. His attention was entirely on the stunningly beautiful Megan Brooks, his lecherous gaze roaming up and down her body, lingering on her most attractive features. Seeing her face flush even redder from anger, he actually reached out, trying to cop a feel.

But just as his hand was only five centimeters from Megan Brooks’s pretty face, a hand like an iron clamp seized his four fingers in a death grip. Then came several crisp “crack, crack” sounds as his four fingers were twisted at impossible angles, all broken, ending up pressed flat against the back of his hand.

“Ah—!” The blond let out a pig-like scream, piercing the night sky, so shrill and terrifying in the silent darkness.

It all happened so fast that the dozen or so thugs sitting there were stunned for a moment before snapping out of it. They immediately bared their teeth and howled, grabbing beer bottles, benches, bricks—some even pulled knives from their pockets and charged at Ethan Cooper.

Megan Brooks was so terrified her face went pale and her hands and feet trembled, forgetting even to react. A large hand gently pulled her aside, and she found herself shielded behind a tall, sturdy figure. Then she saw that figure, like a tiger unleashed, pounce at the group of thugs.

The fight could only be described with one word: brutal!

The pimple-faced guy at the front—the one Ethan Cooper thought had cow dung on his head—was slapped hard by Ethan Cooper right on the left cheek. The force spun him around several times on the spot, the knife in his hand whirling aimlessly. His companions on either side, unable to dodge in time, were all caught up in the chaos, getting slashed by the sharp knife, some with big cuts, some with small. When the pimple-faced guy finally stopped, half his face was swollen, and more than half of his twenty-eight teeth had been knocked out, with blood and yellow, smoke-stained teeth spilling from his mouth.

Hitting someone in the face is the most satisfying thing. Maybe it was all the pent-up frustration from Daliao, a nameless fire burning inside. So when Ethan Cooper realized these were just a bunch of lawless punks, he finally found a target to vent his anger on.