Drawing the Line

The sturdy young man raised his brows at Feng Jun's words, looking eager to give it a try.

In the end, however, he held back his emotions and merely turned to glance at the middle-aged man who seemed to be Brother Biao.

The middle-aged man wore a smile, though it was painfully fake. "Boss Feng, I came to discuss some business with you."

"Not interested." Feng Jun frowned and rejected him in the most blunt and straightforward manner.

Judging from their attitude alone, he had no intention of discussing any business with them. He was not even interested in knowing what it was about—I'm not short of money.

The man still smiled, but it looked even faker now. "Boss Feng, I came to your door personally. That shows sincerity. You do not even want to hear me out?"

Feng Jun considered himself a man of refinement. Since the other party had mentioned sincerity, he knew he had to give them an explanation.

So he pointed at the other two and said flatly, "Before we talk, leash your two dogs. I do not like talking to people who do not know the rules."

The woman flew into a rage at once. "Kid, I have not even settled the score with you yet, and you dare insult me?"

"You're sick." Feng Jun gave her an indifferent glance, turned, and walked away. "No deal. I only deal with people."

As he left, he did not say anything like, "Come in if you dare." There was no need. If they refused to accept reality and actually dared to force their way in, he would not mind teaching them a lesson.

As long as they dared to barge in, he dared to make a move.

Seeing him turn away without hesitation, the man sighed. "Boss