“Yeah. That punk was pretty good. We weren’t a match for him because we had too little people with us!” Ned immediately grumbled, “Master Howard, that punk practically spat on your name. We told him that we were your men, yet he told us that you’re nothing but trash!”
“That f*cker! He dares to look down on me, the great Master Howard?” It was probably the first time Master Howard had been completely disregarded. He was so furious that he nearly spat out blood.
He had used his fists to conquer the throne he sat upon today; the Dragon God Clan was regarded as one of the most prominent clans in the city. They were not at the top of the food chain, but nobody dared to provoke them so carelessly. These underground organizations usually did not meddle in any affairs that had to do with aristocrats, too. They did not want to stir any unnecessary fights.
That was why he could not help but tack on a sentence after he finished speaking. “By the way, is that punk some aristocrat?”
“No. Don’t worry. This punk is just a foot soldier; a vet. In other words, he’s an impulsive self-righteous f*cker; the kind who likes to stick his nose in places he’s not invited to.”
“A lot of vets have been around lately,” Ned added. “There’s plenty of his type around now!”
Master Howard did not bother asking about the whole situation. He already decided that the punk would die after calling him ‘trash’.
He thought about it for a while. “How many people do you need? I’ll get Scar to bring his men with you!”
“50—” Ned’s brows furrowed. He then shook his head. “No, no. 50 is too small of a number, and that punk is too skilled. We need at least 200, and we need them armed.”
“200?” Master Howard startled at the suggested number. He never thought that the punk would be this skilled.
“That’s right. I heard that the punk served in the field for five years. He’s brushed against death plenty of times before. He’s crazy skilled! Of course, I understand if we can’t bring that many men,” Ned commented. “100 should be enough. But I’m just trying to prevent the worst-case scenario here.”
“All right then!” Master Howard nodded, his gaze shifted toward a man by his side. There was a menacing scar than ran down the man’s face. “Scar, bring your men and arm them,” he said icily. “You’ll be under Ned’s command for this operation!”
“Yes, Sir!” The scar-faced man wasted no time on small-talk. He got his men prepared and left with Ned.
At that moment, Kylie had long been fast asleep. Meanwhile, Fiona and the others were in the garden, huffing impatiently as they waited for Jack and Selena to return.
Joan, who was beside Fiona, observed the other woman’s expression. “Fiona, don’t be so angry, please,” she said gently. “My son isn’t in any form of trouble, I’m sure. He isn’t that rash!”
Fiona spat on the earth. “Don’t just call me Fiona as though we’re buddies. Your son got into a fight with Drakes’ bodyguards. Is that not causing trouble? We saw everything ourselves. He got himself into deep sh*t, but don’t drag us Taylors into it!”
Xena immediately puffed up her chest as well. “That’s right. Selena even called us in the afternoon, asking Aunt Fiona to give her 300 thousand to have dinner. Is that possible?” she remarked in a patronizing tone. “Does she really need 300 thousand to treat her colleagues to dinner? It’s obvious that Jack has gotten himself neck-deep in horse muck!”