C49 I Wholeheartedly Seek Death

The man's voice grated like a drake's, indescribably harsh to the ear.

Westley and Rashawn turned in unison.

Behind them stood two men and a woman.

The man on the left was short, his stature overwhelmed by the designer clothes he wore, which did little to disguise his bulkiness. His beady eyes oozed sleaziness, making one feel distinctly uneasy.

The other man was tall, clad in a trench coat and glasses, exuding an air of a degenerate scholar.

Yet, his gaze was icy and contemptuous, betraying an air of superiority.

The woman in the qipao, however, boasted an impressive figure, with ample curves and long, pale legs.

Regrettably, her face bore traces of cosmetic surgery, though she remained strikingly attractive.

"The hefty one is Vaden, the Cruz family scion. The tall guy is Rollen from the Freeman family. I'm not familiar with the lady; she's likely Vaden's latest flame," Rashawn whispered.

Westley nodded.

Truthfully, Rashawn didn't need to elaborate so much; his intent was clear—to show Westley he wasn't considered an outsider.

Just then, the trio approached Rashawn.

"Mr. Cruz, Young Mr. Freeman, greetings. Welcome to the Golden Palace," Rashawn greeted, maintaining a poised composure.

Rashawn ran his business with an open door, so it wouldn't do to slight them.

Besides, a significant portion of the Golden Palace's clientele consisted of Lindzac's wealthy heirs.

Regardless of their haughty demeanor or their impertinence, they were the Golden Palace's patron deities.

"Rashawn, who's this fellow? He seems out of place," Vaden remarked, his brow furrowed.

His eyes flickered with undisguised scorn for Westley.

Westley's plain looks and dowdy dress made him stick out like a sore thumb in the opulent setting of the Golden Palace.

Rashawn's expression flickered with alarm. Did Vaden not realize the risk of provoking a Half-step Grandmaster?

The Cruz family epitomized the term 'nouveau riche'—wealthy, yes, but lacking any real substance.

A Half-step Grandmaster was certainly not someone the Cruz family could afford to antagonize.

Before Rashawn could make introductions, Westley chimed in with a smile, "I'm just an ordinary guy, nothing special."

Rashawn got the message loud and clear.

Westley preferred to keep a low profile and not flaunt his status.

"This is my friend; he's looking to unwind a bit tonight," Rashawn explained.

"Rashawn, you really ought to raise the bar at the Golden Palace," Rollen Freeman remarked with a sneer.

His comment, made bluntly in Westley's presence, lacked any subtlety.

Westley remained silent, while Rashawn's brow furrowed, his displeasure evident.

"What's the matter? Did I speak out of turn? If you think the two million threshold for platinum cards is too low, just say the word. Even twenty million wouldn't be a stretch for me," Rollen stated, arms folded across his chest.

"Young Mr. Freeman, are you challenging Boss Powell's business tactics?" Rashawn retorted, his face set in a stern expression.

He had never been fond of Rollen, and his sarcastic tone only deepened Rashawn's irritation.

"I'm not familiar with the strategy. However, we are people of distinction and don't want our circle diluted by those of lower standing," Rollen said dismissively, his lips twisting.

His words were a direct affront to Westley.

"You—"

Rashawn was about to respond, but Westley stopped him.

"Don't let it get to you," Westley said with a reassuring smile, attempting to defuse the tension.

Rashawn was seething with frustration.

As a martial artist, he was naturally forthright.

Deep down, he had nothing but contempt for a spoiled rich kid like Rollen. Without their influential families, they might not even measure up to the club's waitstaff.

After all, those servers earned their keep through hard work.

"Is there a problem? Am I wrong?" Rollen challenged, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Hai, you're nothing more than Boss Powell's lapdog. If you're a dog, then act like one and do your job," Rollen taunted.

Vaden Cruz, lounging nearby with his girlfriend, joined in with a mocking laugh, "A dog trying to act like a person? That's just naive."

Rashawn's face turned ashen, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

"What's the matter? You feel like hitting me?"

Rollen stepped forward, taunting, "Believe me, if you so much as lay a finger on me, I can bankrupt this place in a heartbeat."

"Forget just one Golden Palace, we could buy two or three if we wanted," Vaden boasted with unchecked arrogance.

"You're pushing it too far!"

With a roar, Rashawn lunged at Rollen, fist raised to strike.

Rollen jumped, not expecting Rashawn to actually throw a punch.

Westley, witnessing Rashawn's outburst, swiftly intercepted, his palm enveloping Rashawn's fist.

A slight flick of his wrist neutralized the punch.

Damn!

Rashawn had thrown his full force into that punch, clearly aiming to take Rollen out.

"Mr. Jimenez, what are you..." Rashawn was confused.

A martial artist's spirit usually couldn't stand such mockery.

Where was his fighting spirit?

"You need to master the art of patience," Westley murmured.

Stunned, Rashawn nodded and stepped back.

The pressure lifted, Rollen's gaunt face flushed with a sickly red.

"Hai, were you trying to hit me just now?"

His face twisted in a snarl, he pointed to his nose and challenged, "Go on, touch me if you dare."

Westley quickly intervened, grabbing Rollen's hand, "Man, take it easy. It's all a big misunderstanding!"

While speaking, he covertly curled his finger and flicked an acupoint under Rollen's armpit.

Rashawn caught the subtle gesture.

"Why are you shaking hands with me? You got a screw loose or something?"

Rollen yanked his hand back, then with a look of distaste, he snatched a hot towel from a nearby tray and scrubbed his hand repeatedly.

"How would you know? I used to have a contagious skin disease..." Westley said, scratching his head sheepishly.

"What the hell!"

Rollen, a clean freak, was on the verge of a meltdown at the news.

He vigorously scrubbed his hands with a hot towel, nearly rubbing the skin raw; they were a bright shade of red.

"Oh, it seems I was mistaken. I don't have a skin condition after all," Westley said, chuckling.

Upon hearing this, Rollen ceased his actions, fixing Westley with a frosty glare.

Is he playing me for a fool?

Vaden's anger was uncontrollable as he seized Westley by the shirt collar.

"Damn it, are you asking for trouble?" Vaden bellowed.

"Indeed, I am earnestly seeking death," Westley replied, nodding gravely.