They Should Be Grateful They Weren't Beaten So Hard They Shat Themselves

One bottle of whiskey was clearly not enough for Wayne and his son.

Vincent a second bottle and added some snacks.

"Dad, do you have a way to appease Mom?"

Eric wore a disdainful smile. "You underestimate me, don't you? You'll find out when you wake up tomorrow."

Vincent confidently unscrewed the cork of the wine bottle the waiter had just placed on the table. "Then I'm relieved."

The second bottle was finished not long after.

Both father and son were a little drunk, but they could still keep drinking.

The combination of a handsome middle-aged man and a handsome young man naturally attracted a lot of attention.

A stunning blonde woman with a curvaceous figure stopped in front of them with an elegant gait, her eyes full of suggestive and provocative intent.

"Gentlemen, would you mind if I sat down?"

Eric turned to look at her.

She's quite pretty; the red low-cut mini-skirt perfectly accentuates her curvaceous and hot figure, and her long, sexy legs make one's imagination run wild.

And the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra only fueled the imagination.

Most men who come to bars at night are looking for romantic partners, and the women who come to bars at night are mostly in the same boat.

The Wayne father and son have become her prey?

Italy are so open-minded!

Eric gently put down his wine glass. "I'm sorry, my wife is still waiting for me."

The blonde maintained her elegant and proper smile, her eyes alluring as she glanced at Vincent on the other side.

"Sorry, I have a girlfriend."

Such a crisp and decisive refusal made her expression falter slightly. "Excuse me, gentlemen, have a pleasant evening."

The father and son withdrew their gazes from her sexy back and, in perfect unison, raised their glasses.

They are both principled people, and they will stick to their bottom line even after drinking.

Although Eric was once a complete playboy, his more than ten years in the army taught him to cherish things, and besides, being a womanizer does not mean being promiscuous.

Vincent was rather traditional and conservative, and he always kept his distance from women who offered themselves to him.

"A tribute to great love!"

"Cheers!"

The Wayne father and son continued drinking and chatting.

On the other side of the open-air bar,

The blonde woman angrily returned to her seat and sat down.

The two sexy women at the table joked:

"What? Our nightclub goddess got rejected?"

"That foreign father and son are clearly different from other men. You picked the wrong prey from the start."

The blonde woman gazed resentfully at Wayne and his son, who were clinking glasses again in the distance.

She filled the wine glass in front of her with red wine, tilted her head back, and drank it all in one gulp.

"If you're so capable, then go ahead and do it. Instead of mocking me, you should go find new prey."

After finishing a whole glass of red wine, her anger had subsided considerably.

Before long, she and her two companions were already looking for new prey.

The three passionate and sexy women were clearly very popular; with just a slight wink, they captivated both local Italy and foreign tourists.

Vincent, who had just returned from the restroom, saw them and seven or eight men walking towards the bar entrance behind him.

With women on both sides, they're probably planning to rent a big room downstairs for a sex party.

He walked straight past the group, but the blonde woman who recognized him stopped as he passed by.

She loosened her grip on the two men's hands slightly, and the two sexy women recognized him.

The sight of three female companions staring at the back of a handsome young man is hardly a pleasant thing for a man, especially one who has been drinking.

A burly Russian man, slightly intoxicated, shouted in broken English, "Young man in front, stand up!"

Vincent turned around and looked at the group of people with a puzzled expression.

Instead of focusing on having a silver party, why are you provoking him?

"Excuse me, is there anything I can help you with?"

The burly Russian man snorted and forcefully shook off the blonde woman's small hand that was tightly gripping his arm.

He walked forward unsteadily, clearly having drunk quite a bit.

"Something? What do you think it could be?"

Vincent's polite and proper smile vanished instantly.

So it was just jealousy. That makes things easier.

He moved his wrists, which were a little sluggish from the alcohol, slightly. "Sir, I don't think I've done anything to offend you, have I?"

"Yeah." The burly Russian man tensed his arm muscles. "I just don't like the look of you."

Vincent was secretly excited by the muscles that looked like they were about to burst out of his clothes.

It looks so sturdy, it should be pretty tough.

A slight smile played on his lips. "Sir, how would you like to resolve this?"

Perhaps because he wasn't as frightened as expected, the burly Russian man with the furrowed brow seemed to have sobered up a little.

So what if he's tall and handsome? Can he compare to this muscular physique?

The three women looked at each other with lingering fear.

They were just a little playful, not bad women.

When the burly Russian man reached out to grab Vincent's clothes, they all screamed and closed their eyes.

But the expected scene did not happen.

The burly man knelt on the ground, clutching his stomach, Vincent stared in astonishment at his own fist.

It's been too long since I've used my hands, so I didn't control my strength well.

"Sukabul!" the burly man cursed, enduring the excruciating pain as he swung his fist.

Vincent instinctively turned his head, grabbed his arm, and twisted it forcefully.

With a "click," it sounded like it had dislocated.

The burly Russian man winced in pain, "Do you want Chicken David?!"

Vincent, who couldn't understand Russian, assumed he was admitting defeat and let go of his hand.

"Bate!" The burly man rammed into him with his shoulder.

Oh, so you're swearing. Then you don't need to be polite.

Vincent's fist slammed into his face, knocking him to the ground with his neck twisted to the side.

The three women screamed again.

The unexpected turn of events deeply shocked them, while also causing the remaining men to feel extremely humiliated.

That burly Russian man was clearly drunk; what kind of skill is it to beat him up?

As they exchanged glances, the bar's security guards rushed over.

Before they could get close, several men under the influence of alcohol rushed toward Vincent.

It was yet another unexpected turn of events.

Vincent made no unnecessary movements, effortlessly dodging their attacks, and then brutally beat them to the ground.

The security guards stared at each other, clearly not wanting to mess with such a ruthless character.

"Fuck! Which bastard is trying to beat up my son!" Eric shoved the security guard aside and strode toward Vincent.

His expression softened considerably when he saw the men lying haphazardly on the ground.

Vincent was, after all, someone he had personally trained; it was a miracle they hadn't beaten these idiots to a pulp.

"Is that you?" He casually grabbed a man from the ground whose nose was gushing blood. "Is that you?"

The man shook his head frantically, his eyes straining to see where the burly Russian man lay motionless on the ground.

Eric released his grip, walked up to the burly man, and kicked him.

This pig-headed guy dares to mess with the Wayne family?

Just as he was about to deliver a brutal blow, Vincent stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder.

"Dad, I think I gave this guy a concussion."

Eric gave a soft "oh" and looked at the three sexy women who were huddled together.

"They orchestrated it?"

Vincent shook his head. "It shouldn't be."

What a bunch of idiots! Why can't we just have a nice party with them? They have to act all jealous and competitive like they're asking for a beating.

If his son hadn't been so ruthless, Eric would have made sure they learned their lesson.