No Match for Him

Those few men immediately surrounded Antonio and began beating him. Strangely enough, Antonio didn't fight back—he just covered his head and took the blows, a faint smile playing on his lips.

From that moment, I started to accept this man. If he was in the wrong, he wouldn't retaliate. That was commendable.

After ten minutes of beating, the men were out of breath, shaking their heads and saying they couldn't go on. Meanwhile, Antonio, despite the beating, didn't seem too worse for wear—just a few bruises here and there.

It was clear now: this man was truly a practitioner, and a strong one at that.

I couldn't persuade him, and I couldn't fight him. The men were at a loss. Then, the leader suddenly turned to me: "Hey, you're Antonio's friend, aren't you? Why don't you pay up for him?"

With that, the men shifted their attention toward me. If Antonio didn't have money, maybe I did. If they couldn't get it from him, they'd get it from me.

"Hey, Tiger, don't go too far. One man's debt is his own—leave others out of it," Antonio snapped, his tone shifting from amused to angry in an instant.

The man called Tiger was no saint. Today, it seemed he wouldn't back down until he got his money. Ignoring Antonio, he signaled his lackeys to start roughing me up instead.

That finally pushed Antonio over the edge. He lunged forward like an arrow, fists flying left and right. His punches were so fast I could barely follow them—just the rush of air against my bangs as each strike landed. One by one, the men crumpled to the ground, howling. Some lost teeth; others hunched over, spitting up bile.

Tiger paled, stumbling back as Antonio advanced on him step by step.

"W-what do you want?" Tiger stammered. "You—you still owe me! Three times with my wife, and not a penny paid!"

Antonio raised a fist the size of a sandbag, hovering it inches from Tiger's face. "I warned you not to drag them into this. Did my words go in one ear and out the other?"

With that, his fist shot downward. Tiger flinched, dropping to his knees in surrender.

"Stop! I'll pay for him!" I shouted. Antonio's fist froze mid-air, then withdrew smoothly.

Incredible. The force behind that punch should've made it impossible to stop, yet he recalled it effortlessly. Stein hadn't been exaggerating—this guy was the real deal.

"How much?" I asked, stepping toward Tiger.

Though unharmed, Tiger was thoroughly cowed. A man who could take down several others without breaking a sweat wasn't someone to mess with. And let's face it—any man who pimps out his wife was no tough guy to begin with.

"Mr. Roger, how can… how can this be okay?" Antonio rubbed his head, looking oddly embarrassed.

I told him there was no need to feel awkward—the money wasn't a gift, just an advance deducted from his salary.

Only then did Tiger dare to speak up: "Two thousand four hundred in total."

I had him pull out his WeChat, then scanned the payment over. The moment the money went through, the group bolted faster than rabbits.

What a talent—pimping out his own wife and offering credit. Just how desperate for money was he?

Antonio hurriedly thanked me, but I repeated: the money wasn't free, so no thanks were needed. In the end, it was his own wages, just paid early.

With that settled, the three of us headed straight back to the tattoo parlor. The second floor had three rooms, and the last one was assigned to Antonio.

I'd already observed Antonio's hands—impressive. If anyone came to trash the shop, he'd probably keep the place safe. I hadn't expected to make enemies so soon after arriving in Vervecity. A real headache.

The Dai family, Nuwa's Forsaken Shade, and that wishy-washy Mr. Lam… It seemed I'd have to tread carefully from now on. Better not provoke anyone—anyone.

But fate had a sense of humor. By evening, Daphne showed up again—this time with an even bigger crowd. She strode into the shop, her expression icy, and said, "Roger, do you remember throwing feces at me last time?"

The memory almost made me laugh, but I held it in. If I so much as smirked, Daphne would lose it. A beautiful face like hers, splattered with filth and mocked publicly? She'd burn the world down over it.

"That—that wasn't our fault! You started it!" I shot back.

"So what?" Daphne sneered. "Roger, you've humiliated me twice now. This time, no matter what, I'm tearing down your sign." She waved a hand, signaling her men to move.

This time, she'd brought about twenty people, all in black suits and sunglasses. The moment she gave the order, they marched toward my signboard, faces blank.

Good grief. Last time, they'd at least made up excuses. Now? No pretense—just pure, shameless destruction.

"Damn it, you really think Roger's an easy target? Stein, lock the door—release Antonio!" I shouted.

Antonio charged downstairs at the call. Towering and broad, he blocked the entire alley just by standing there.

"Who dares cause trouble here? You all have a death wish?" He crossed his arms, voice cold, utterly fearless.

Daphne scoffed. "Are you scared of him? Idiots—get him!"

At Daphne's order, the twenty-odd men rushed Antonio. His movements were lightning-fast—they couldn't lay a hand on him. Every time he struck, another man dropped. His punches carried the force of a dragon and tiger, leaving no room for resistance. Within half an hour, every last one of them lay sprawled on the ground—not a single lucky exception. Antonio himself suffered only a minor injury.

"Hmph. Not a single one who can fight!" Antonio snorted, glaring down at the defeated men.

Daphne stood frozen, her jaw nearly hitting the floor. One man taking down two dozen? Even novels wouldn't dare write something so absurd. Is he even human?

"Tsk tsk. Daphne, the trash you hired can't even throw a proper punch. This is what you brought to tear down my sign? Dream on," I taunted, clicking my tongue.

"You—you—!" Daphne sputtered, too furious to speak.

"Me what? I'm the man you'll never have. Save yourself the trouble and quit barging in here."

Truthfully, I'd felt a twinge of guilt toward her before. But after this stunt? If Antonio hadn't been here, my sign would've been wrecked. How could I not be pissed?

"Who wants you? You're shameless!" Daphne's usually cold face flushed red. "I don't care about you at all! Hmph, I just want to ruin you!"

Oh? Ruin me? Cute thought. With Antonio here, her little gang couldn't even touch my signboard—let alone destroy me.

I was about to shoo her away when another luxury car—worth millions—rolled into the alley. Out stepped a stunning woman I didn't recognize.

Another rich beauty? What kind of luck was this? Did she want a tattoo too?

Then Daphne suddenly gasped, "Sister… Nova?"

This woman—Daphne knows her?