Felix was clearly there to pick a fight.
Jack stayed silent. One of his stocky bodyguards stepped forward and growled, "Get lost!"
Another tall, lean bodyguard immediately moved to shield Jack.
Felix only got more arrogant. "Oh-ho! Who do you think you are? Since when do you have bodyguards?"
One of his men tried to shove Jack. The tall, thin bodyguard lunged forward without hesitation. He landed a brutal punch to the man's face, followed by a swift kick to the gut that nearly knocked him out cold.
Felix exploded with rage. "How dare you hit my man? You're dead, you piece of trash!"
He had always seen Jack as just a struggling singer from Perthter City who'd risen to fame with a few hit songs. To Felix, Jack was nothing more than a small mouse in his hands—completely powerless and easy to control. He believed he held absolute power over him.
Since when did he—the one who held all the power—keep getting the short end of the stick from a tiny little mouse?
It was like the whole world had turned upside down!
Two more of his men charged at Jack. The stocky bodyguard charged like a pouncing tiger, unleashing a flurry of iron-hard punches.
Felix's so-called security were just useless thugs—no match for Jack's trained guards. One punch each, straight to their weak spots, and they crumpled in seconds.
The stocky bodyguard didn't stop there and advanced on Felix.
He was the one who provoked Jack. The stocky bodyguard, trained to eliminate any threat without hesitation, didn't care who Felix was—he took him down all the same.
Felix barely had time to shield his head before the bodyguard's palm smashed across his face. The hit sent him flying, crashing onto the floor with a sickening thud.


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