Angel's Outburst

To Fanmuir, no job was beneath anyone. There was no such thing as a "lowly" profession—only different ways to make an honest living. If he thought otherwise, he would never have taken this job, nor would he have bonded so effortlessly with his dormitory friends.

Orlando Brownie's open disdain for bar work was something Fanmuir simply couldn't tolerate. Caroline, the woman he held dear, owned this bar. Delphina, a close friend, worked here. Orlando's arrogant remarks weren't just an insult to him—they were an insult to the people he cared about.

For the first time in his life, Fanmuir swore—a rare slip that only underscored just how much Caroline and the others meant to him. "You think being the heir of the Brownie Martial Arts Family makes you special? That you're untouchable? Let me tell you something—you're nothing but scum. And if you push me, I'll erase the entire Brownie Martial Arts Family from existence."

His words were sharp, cutting through the air like steel. His tone was laced with disdain, his cold gaze sweeping over Helena—who had turned deathly pale—and Orlando, whose face contorted with fury. Without another glance, Fanmuir turned to leave.

Orlando Brownie was stunned. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected Fanmuir to be this arrogant. As the eldest heir of a martial family with a thousand-year lineage, how could he let such blatant provocation slide? He had to see for himself—just how exactly did Fanmuir plan to make his family "disappear"?

"A bar waiter talking like he's some kind of god—what a joke!" Orlando sneered, his expression full of scorn. "You really think you have that kind of power? One phone call, and I can have your boss fire you on the spot. I can make you vanish without a trace."

Caroline had been watching Fanmuir closely, her ears tuned in to the unfolding drama. When she saw Orlando Brownie's aggressive posture and the way he beckoned her over, she calmly approached.

"How can I help you?" she asked politely.

"This waiter's attitude is unacceptable! I demand that you fire him immediately!" Orlando barked, jabbing a finger at Fanmuir.

Ordinarily, Caroline would have handled the situation with a smooth apology before turning to reprimand the employee. After all, the customer is always right. But this wasn't just any employee—this was Fanmuir. To Caroline, he wasn't just a staff member. He was family. If anyone had to go, it certainly wouldn't be him.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but I can't do that," she replied coolly, her smile vanishing.

Orlando Brownie was momentarily stunned. He had never been defied before—especially not by a woman. His entire life, people had scrambled to please him. But now, in front of a crowd, this woman had just flatly rejected him. His face darkened with fury. He was the heir to the powerful Brownie family! How dare she?

In his frustration, Orlando instinctively turned to Helena, as if seeking reassurance. But what he saw sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over him—her expression mirrored Caroline's exactly. Not only was there no support in her eyes, but there was also something even worse: disgust.

For someone used to being idolized, the realization was unbearable. Orlando had walked in tonight with the intention of humiliating Fanmuir in front of everyone, but somehow, the tables had completely turned—he was the one being humiliated.

His anger surged uncontrollably. He scanned the room, his eyes burning with malice, before locking onto Fanmuir. With an icy sneer, he spat, "Because of you, Fanmuir, this bar will be nothing but ashes. I'll make sure of it."

Fanmuir met his glare without a flicker of fear, his expression unreadable. Helena, on the other hand, found it almost amusing. She even shot Orlando a look of pity—if only he knew what he had just gotten himself into.

But there was a problem. Like it or not, this fool was here with her. And his family was in the middle of a critical business deal with hers. Helena felt torn between exasperation and helplessness. Finally, she tugged at Orlando's sleeve, signaling that enough was enough. They needed to leave. Now.

Orlando Brownie's anger flared even hotter. He couldn't believe that even now, Helena was still trying to shield that plain-looking guy, urging him to back off. What a joke. Little did he know, Helena wasn't protecting Fanmuir—she was protecting her own family.

Orlando had no idea what he was up against. The Mason family had suffered a complete collapse simply for crossing Fanmuir, cut off by every major power overnight. If Orlando challenged him now, he wouldn't even realize how he met his end.

Helena's intervention only made Fanmuir even more irritated. Orlando was already his enemy, and yet Helena still had the audacity to pull on his sleeve? Whatever her reasons, he didn't care—he just found it infuriating. He shot her a cold glare, sending a chill down her spine.

For the first time, Helena felt true fear. It was as if her entire world was crumbling, as if someone irreplaceable in her life was about to walk away forever.

Fanmuir had always believed that anyone who dared to threaten him only had one way to pay for it—with their life.

He had no intention of letting Caroline get dragged into this pointless mess, nor did he want her to waste another second dealing with this bottom-feeding scumbag. His voice softened as he said, "Go on, do your thing. I'll handle this."

Caroline hesitated, clearly worried. The man standing before Fanmuir radiated cruelty, the kind of person who wouldn't hesitate to kill. But when Fanmuir told her to go, she didn't argue. She simply turned and left, her eyes lingering on him for a moment—silent but filled with concern and unwavering trust.

She listened to him like a woman who had absolute faith in her man, unwilling to let him lose face in front of others.

That moment stung Orlando Brownie more than anything. He had walked in expecting to humiliate Fanmuir, planning to have the bar owner put him in his place. Instead, it was he who had just been humiliated.

If they weren't in public, Orlando would have already drawn his gun.

Just as Caroline was leaving, Fanmuir called out, "Lend me your phone for a second."

She handed it over without hesitation. He watched her walk away before turning back to Orlando, his lips curling into a sneer.

"You wanted to see me overstep?" Fanmuir's voice was laced with mockery. "You wanted to watch me destroy the Brownie Martial Legacy Family? To see your entire bloodline wiped from existence?"

"Well, as you wish."

With that, he unlocked the phone.

Damn it! Helena could already see the disaster unfolding—Orlando Brownie had completely screwed up this time. She knew how crucial the Brownie Martial Legacy Family was to the Bopepan Family right now. If the Alexander Family decided to sever all business ties with them, it would be a catastrophic blow, something the Brownies would never recover from.

What she didn't realize was that Fanmuir wasn't just some powerful figure—he was the head of the world's most elite family, the Huxwell Family.

If Fanmuir went through with his threat, the Brownies wouldn't even be able to finance the Bourbon Palace project in Paris's 7th district. A flicker of panic crossed Helena's face as she lowered her voice, her eyes filled with desperation. "Fanmuir, please… don't do this. Let him go. I'm apologizing to you for what happened today."

For Orlando Brownie, this was the ultimate humiliation.

Helena—pleading for him? On his behalf? It should be the other way around! Fanmuir should be begging for mercy! Had the world gone insane? Was he hearing things? His rage was about to explode.

Last time, Fanmuir had let the Mason Family off the hook because of Helena. Back then, they had been classmates—maybe even something more. And he had only acted out of anger for her sake. Since she had chosen to let it go, Fanmuir had respected her decision and done the same.

But this time, things were different. Orlando had openly threatened to destroy the bar—that meant threatening Caroline, right in front of Fanmuir.

And that? That was unforgivable.

Fanmuir shot Helena a single, chilling glance. Just one look, and she felt her heart sink into an abyss of cold despair.

It wasn't just about her family being dragged into this—it was the realization that Fanmuir no longer cared enough to reconsider for her sake.

For the first time, she felt the sting of rejection, the pain of falling out of favor. And it hurt.

"Hah! I'd love to see how you think you're going to bring down the Brownie Family," Orlando sneered, laughing mockingly. A lowly bar worker, threatening to crush one of Europe's most powerful families? Ridiculous.

But Helena knew better.

Fanmuir wasn't bluffing. He had already proven he was more than capable of doing exactly that.

Meanwhile, across the city, Andrea was in the middle of a conversation with Neil Bopepan, the head of the Bopepan Family, when his phone buzzed.

A number he didn't recognize.

A man of his rank rarely received unknown calls. He sighed—one of the downsides of having a phone was dealing with wrong numbers. Annoyed, he answered.

Then, he heard the voice.

A voice so powerful, so deeply etched into his memory, that his entire body tensed.

Without thinking, Andrea straightened his back, instinctively bowing as if Fanmuir were standing right in front of him. His expression grew serious as he listened, hanging onto every word.

Neil Bopepan had never seen Andrea react this way to a phone call. Not even when his own father—the head of the Alexander Family—called did he look this solemn, this reverent.

"Destroy the Brownie Family. I want them wiped out. Bankrupt," Fanmuir said, his tone light, as if he were giving an everyday instruction.

Andrea felt a chill run down his spine.

The Brownie Family had offended him?

Unforgivable.

Andrea had been in the game long enough to know that when the ancestor used words like destroy and bankrupt, there was no room for negotiation. The Brownies were finished.

Without wasting a second, Andrea hung up the call and, ignoring the shock on Neil Bopepan's face, dialed Duccio Ferrari—the man overseeing the Alexander Family's business operations. His voice was sharp and commanding: "Cut all ties with the Brownie Family. Effective immediately. I don't care what it takes—make sure they go under."

Even after issuing the order, Andrea remained uneasy. He followed up with calls to several other key figures managing the family's affairs.

Then, he made one final call—to his father, Caesar Alexander.

Caesar had long stepped away from worldly matters, but the moment he heard Fanmuir's name, his tone shifted. "Understood. Consider it done."

Not only would every asset of the Brownie Family be crushed, but Caesar also deployed their elite martial experts to Paris, ready to act on Andrea's command. If necessary, he himself would come to oversee the matter personally.

Standing beside Andrea, Neil Bopepan felt his heart pound.

What kind of monster had the Brownies provoked?

His first instinct had been to ask Andrea for details, maybe even put in a word for the Brownies. But the sheer intensity of Andrea's response made it clear—this was no ordinary vendetta. The Alexander Family wasn't just punishing the Brownies.

They were erasing them.

There was no saving them now.

Neil Bopepan had been in the business world long enough to know when to cut his losses.

Without hesitation, he picked up his phone…

Orlando Brownie watched Vanmier dial the phone, first with amusement, then with outright mockery—like he was watching some pitiful clown put on a ridiculous act.

Then, his phone rang.

He answered casually—until the voice on the other end spoke.

His smirk vanished.

His face turned ashen.

It was Neil Bopepan.

Neil didn't explain. He didn't negotiate.

He simply said, "The Bopepan Family is terminating all business with the Brownie Family. Effective immediately."

Then, he hung up.

Orlando barely had time to process the shock before his phone started ringing again.

And again.

And again.

Business partners. Industry leaders. Even other martial arts inheritance families.

One by one, they called with the same message:

"We're cutting all ties with the Brownie Family."

Then, the final call came.

The one he dreaded most.

The Brownie patriarch himself.

The old man's voice was heavy with grief.

And then, his final words:

"It's over. The Brownie Family's thousand-year legacy… is over."

Orlando felt his world collapse.

He swayed on his feet. The room seemed to spin.

Gone?

Just like that?

He turned toward Vanmier in disbelief.

The man he had just insulted. The man he had mocked.

This… This is the person who destroyed the Brownie Family?

Orlando's breath caught in his throat.

Fear. Pure, unfiltered fear gripped him.

Without thinking, he lunged at Vanmier, desperate to strike.

But the moment he channeled his energy—he froze.

His strength was gone.

It was as if his body had been emptied.

His power… sealed away.

His eyes darted to Vanmier, who remained smiling—calm, unbothered.

And that's when Orlando understood.

This wasn't just some bar worker.

This wasn't even a man.

This was something far, far worse.

A monster.

A being so powerful that with a single command, he had erased a thousand-year-old martial arts family.

With a single thought, he had crippled Orlando completely.

Helena left too.

But she didn't just walk away.

She carried with her an unbearable weight—an agony that pressed down on her soul.

Because from start to finish, Vanmier had not spoken a single word to her.

From start to finish, he had only looked at her with the coldest, most indifferent gaze.