The listeners felt a chill down their spines!
The Wilson didn't even have time to let out a scream; his eyeballs protruded in an instant due to the enormous impact, bloodshot and terrifying.
His body fell backward with a thud, his head hitting the thick carpet with a dull thump.
Blood gushed like a floodgate opened, surging instantly from the cracked wound on his temple,
Victor stood up, looking down at the twitching body on the floor from above.
"Damn it..."
His tone dripping with undisguised brutality and disdain, "Do you think it's still the Yanks' era?! The era where you drive a pickup, drink beer, and dare to boss me around?!"
He fiercely tossed the blood-stained ashtray beside Wilson on the floor, the crystal hitting the carpet with a heavy sound.
"What I give you!"
He growled, pointing at each person, "Is what you have! If I don't give it! You aren't even qualified to lick the shoe soles, damn it!"
