After struggling his way through the dense crowd, Max finally managed to see the center of the chaos.
The surrounding noise seemed to be forcibly pressed down, replaced by an atmosphere so tense it was almost suffocating. The people nearby instinctively stepped back, forming a circular empty space.
At the center.
A voice filled with malice rang out.
"You dared to ruin my fun last night. Today, don't even think about leaving this place alive."
The speaker was a young man dressed in expensive leather, standing arrogantly with his chin slightly raised. He reeked of someone accustomed to standing above others, giving orders, and trampling those beneath him.
Behind him stood a group of men in neat suits, forming a half-circle. Their gazes were cold, their posture disciplined, one look was enough to tell they were not ordinary bodyguards.
These were men who had undergone professional training.
Opposite them, not far away, was a young man kneeling on one knee.
A tight black outfit clung to his tall frame, clearly outlining every line of muscle beneath the fabric. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long and powerful legs—his height was easily over 1.9 meters.
Even while kneeling, his back remained perfectly straight.
There was no hint of begging.
"Bastard."
A low voice rang out, cold enough to send chills down one's spine.
"You dared to use force on my sister. Luckily, I arrived in time."
The young master narrowed his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching.
This time, it was the kneeling youth who continued speaking, his tone full of mockery and disdain:
"Yesterday you were groveling and begging for mercy, yet today you dare show up again. Don't even mention the ten men behind you, even if there were twenty, I wouldn't be afraid."
At that very moment, a familiar interface suddenly appeared before Max's eyes.
[Ding Ding Ding]
[Detected Mercenary King Jason Tod]
[Age: 24]
[Current Combat Power: B]
[Ability: Not Awakened]
[Potential: S]
[Background: Separated from his family as a child, became a mercenary at the age of nine. Master of weapons and top-tier combat skills. Faked his death to retire. Upon recently returning to the country, he discovered that his sister had been targeted by a playboy young master, leading him into trouble.]
Max froze.
"What the hell, does the system have a new function now?"
The moment that thought flashed through his mind, a familiar fragrance appeared behind him.
Luna suddenly materialized, playfully reaching out to brush Max's cheek.
"Of course not."
There was a hint of laughter in her voice.
"To upgrade the system's functions, you need to complete an upgrade mission."
"This is the potential panel. It only appears for people with sufficiently high potential."
"At the very least, S-rank."
Max took a deep breath.
'So that's how it is…'
'Even Logan didn't show such high potential.'
'If I step in and help this guy now… wouldn't that mean I'd gain an extremely overpowered subordinate in the future?'
Luna glanced at him and immediately poured cold water on his thoughts.
'Master, you're thinking too simply.'
'First, whether he even needs your help is still unknown.'
'Putting that aside… people with S-rank potential, who among them isn't arrogant?'
'Getting someone like that to acknowledge another person as their master would be harder than death.'
Max didn't respond.
He merely shifted slightly to the side, positioning himself closer to the young master, choosing to observe rather than intervene.
At this moment, the young master had lost his patience.
"Men! Get him!"
Eight burly men immediately charged toward Jason. The remaining two stayed close to the young master, maintaining their protective positions.
These were not street thugs.
With just a glance, Max could tell, they had undergone rigorous training.
If it were one-on-one, Max was confident he could win.
But eight at the same time…
In his view, even if each of them spat once, it would be enough to drown someone.
"You little bastard who doesn't know his place!"
One of the bodyguards roared, muscles bulging, veins popping like tree roots. His fist swung out with a sharp whistle of wind, aiming straight for Jason's head.
Jason lowered his body.
The punch grazed past him by a hair's breadth.
In the next instant, Jason drove a straight punch into the man's chin.
"Crack!"
The bodyguard's eyes rolled back as his body flew backward, collapsing unconscious onto the ground.
The fight erupted.
But it went completely against everyone's expectations.
Jason was not being suppressed.
On the contrary, he was dominating.
Outnumbered two to one?
To Jason, that saying was nothing but a joke.
He moved at a speed bordering on inhuman. Every step was precise, every strike aimed at a fatal weak point.
Less than twenty seconds later.
All eight bodyguards lay piled together, foam at their mouths, not a single one able to stand.
Jason turned his head.
His gaze locked onto the young master, filled with naked killing intent.
"Brat."
"I didn't break your legs yesterday, so you must've thought I was some kind-hearted guy, huh?"
The young master trembled, stumbling backward several steps, nearly screaming.
"Don't, don't let that monster come near me!"
At that instant, one of the remaining bodyguards suddenly pulled a Glock 18 from his chest.
Without hesitation.
He pulled the trigger.
Two shots fired in quick succession, aimed straight at Jason's head.
In his mind, a glorious future unfolded: money, women, rewards from the young master.
Jason was just a nobody.
And how powerful was the young master's family background?
Even killing someone in broad daylight would at worst end in a legal victory.
But.
Reality was completely different.
Jason simply tilted his head slightly to the right.
The two bullets whizzed past his ear.
The distance between them was only ten meters.
The muzzle velocity of a Glock 18 was 375 meters per second.
Dodging bullets at such close range…
What kind of concept was that?
The crowd was stunned.
Some people's legs went weak, collapsing to their knees.
Others fell straight to the ground, not from shock, but from a stray bullet that struck them squarely in the forehead.
Max clenched his fists.
An indescribable excitement surged within him.
He had to recruit Jason as a subordinate.
Or at the very least, become friends.
He had already offended the White Tiger Gang.
Last time, it was just trouble.
If next time they brought guns…
Max knew very well he would be completely finished.
But if a powerhouse like this stood on his side, what would he have to fear?
Just as everyone, including Max, believed the outcome was already decided.
From within the crowd, an old man in a loose cotton coat slowly stepped forward.
His sleeves fluttered in the wind; it was unclear whether his arms were amputated or simply tucked inside his sleeves.
His hoarse voice rang out.
"Boy."
"I don't know who's right or who's wrong."
"But this time, give me some face."
"Spare this kid's life."
The old man paused briefly.
"Back then, his father took a knife for me."
"If you lower your hand here, everyone walks away satisfied."
Jason let out a cold laugh.
"Give you face?"
His eyes were sharp as blades.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
"I'd rather give face to the balls of any random dog on the street—"
"than to you."
The air froze solid.