C100 I'll Destroy You!

"Speaking of Iverson, do you still remember the Supreme Black Card I gave you?" Charlotte inquired.

"Yes, it's the very thing that got me in here," Westley confirmed with a nod.

How could he forget something so formidable?

"I've only ever issued three Supreme Black Cards. One went to you, another to Lindzac's top expert, Yuan Tian, and the third to the Valdez family's young master," Charlotte explained.

Westley pondered for a moment, feeling his vanity swell with satisfaction.

At least, in Charlotte's view, he was on par with those two.

"Do you think I'm so striking and peerless that you're trying to win me over?" Westley asked with a sly grin.

Charlotte was taken aback.

She had encountered narcissists, but never one quite like this.

"I'm starting to doubt you're truly a Half-step Grandmaster," she sighed with a hint of exasperation.

"Then what am I?" Westley asked, smiling.

"To me, you're a full-fledged Narcissistic Grandmaster," Charlotte laughed.

Catching sight of the radiant white glow emanating from her chest, Westley couldn't help but gulp and mutter, "A Narcissistic Grandmaster is still a Grandmaster, after all."

Charlotte reached out with her delicate fingers and tapped Westley's forehead, saying, "Enough talk. It's time for our meeting. We've got a tough fight ahead."

"No worries, I excel in battle!" Westley replied nonchalantly.

……

As Charlotte and Westley entered the meeting room, the previously bustling hall fell silent.

All eyes from the four tables were fixed on Charlotte.

She took a deep breath and flashed her signature seductive smile.

With elegant strides, she walked down the central red carpet.

Her grace and allure were undeniable.

Her captivating beauty, accentuated by the tailored red cheongsam, made her the epitome of a blossoming red rose—confident and alluring.

The men present couldn't take their eyes off her, their swallowed gulps audible in the silence.

Cadell and Suhail, seated at the main table, watched her with eyes brimming with covetous desire.

Even someone like Rochester had to avert his gaze to quell the inferno within his heart.

Who wouldn't covet such a beauty?

Yet, they all knew full well that this rose came with thorns.

Dare to pluck it, and you risk bleeding from its prickles.

Their attention then shifted to Westley, standing beside Charlotte. Their impressions soured instantly.

Clad in plain sportswear, Westley's gait was unsteady.

He looked less appealing than even the banquet hall's service staff.

"Damn, who's this punk? He's actually holding Boss Powell's hand."

"Right, he's not even good-looking or tall. No clue where he sprang from."

"Boss Powell's taste is questionable, being with such an average Joe!"

The murmurs spread across the tables, a mix of envy and jealousy towards Westley.

They resented him for holding Charlotte's hand—her hand, undoubtedly soft to the touch.

Indeed, it was soft.

Once Westley felt it, he didn't want to let go.

Unfazed, he raised his other hand, greeting the crowd with the air of a VIP, while he was met with scornful stares and rude gestures.

"Why is this guy even here?" Vaden was stunned to see Westley.

He was taken aback.

Rollen remained silent, his lips pressed tightly, eyes blazing with fury.

If glares could kill, Westley would have perished many times over.

But Westley was undeterred, even tightening his grip on Charlotte's hand, and daringly caressed her shapely behind.

Envy me!

Desire what I have!

Hate me all you want!

I'm that impressive! Come at me if you dare!

Westley's brazenness was on full display.

Predictably, his actions incited the crowd's ire.

Some slammed their fists on the tables, rising in anger.

"Damn it."

"Is he asking for death?"

"Release her, we duel!"

Charlotte felt an unwelcome touch on her behind.

Her smile stiffened, her eyes darting in alarm.

Westley had the audacity to take liberties with her in full view of everyone.

Westley was audaciously bold.

As Charlotte was about to pry his hand away, he suddenly turned and commanded, "Don't move!"

Charlotte shuddered slightly and froze in place.

Westley surveyed the room before leaning in to whisper, "We need to make our act convincing. The more affectionate we appear, the more it'll irk them. And when they're irked, we've won."

His words seemed like twisted logic, yet they strangely made sense.

Charlotte was skeptical but couldn't help observing the crowd's expressions.

Indeed, the group looked ready to roll up their sleeves and tear Westley limb from limb.

What gave Westley the right?

A smile flickered across Charlotte's face.

Clearly, they were itching to take Westley down a notch.

His arrogance was unparalleled.

Charlotte made her way to the center of the room and stood firm.

Her beauty effortlessly captured the attention of everyone present.

"Thank you all for attending this year's Monran Association. As per tradition, tonight I have the honor of hosting," she announced.

Her voice was soft yet carried an underlying strength that reached every ear in the room.

A smattering of applause followed, revealing their lack of enthusiasm for her role as host.

At that moment, a burly man with a scowl stood up and bellowed, "Boss Powell, what's the meaning of this?"

"Boss Jacobs, I'm not sure what you're implying," Charlotte replied with a serene smile.

"On such a significant day for the Monran Association, why bring an outsider?" he demanded.

With the ice broken, others chimed in.

"Exactly, how can we allow outsiders into such a crucial meeting?"

"Boss Powell, what are you playing at?"

"He's not even a member. Get him out of here now!"

"This isn't your place. Just leave already!"

The murmurs and dissatisfaction grew as they closed in on Charlotte and Westley.

Charlotte's expression subtly shifted.

The Monran Association meeting hadn't even commenced, and already the crowd was unruly, refusing to follow her lead.

It appeared they were determined to disrupt the event.