Granny

Amid negotiations between the wolves and the hyenas,

a soft, fluffy little lamb slowly walked in.

That was probably how everyone in Haisha Bar—the gangsters and the bar's patrons alike—felt at that moment.

Brian froze.

So did the black-clad man known as Grey Wolf, who had just risen to become the new boss of this neighborhood after a power struggle within Kalleva.

After a brief moment of stunned silence,

the first to cry out were the same few of Brian's men who had been "teasing" Irin earlier. "I-isn't that the rich girl from just now?"

"Damn! Why hasn't she left yet?"

"Did she drink too much? Damn it, of all the times to come out, she had to pick now!"

"That stupid little brat! Now she won't be able to leave even if she wants to!"

His men's voices finally snapped Brian back to his senses.

As he hurriedly cursed the "rich girl" in his heart several times over—she couldn't read the room at all, and was so stupid she must have been kicked in the head by a donkey—he instinctively strode forward, using his burly frame to shield Irin from the scorching gazes coming at her from every direction.

"Go back!" Brian growled, turning his head slightly toward the girl standing in his shadow.

He could bring his men over to flirt and joke with the pretty girls in the bar; that was an unspoken part of the bar's usual routine. But as the owner, he also had to ensure every customer's safety.

Plenty of patrons had gotten carried away after drinking too much and started pushing past the bounds of flirting and teasing, getting handsy with women in a way that verged on assault. Every last one of them had ended up getting a thorough beating from Brian and being thrown out.

That was why Haisha Bar had succeeded—not just because of Brian's former reputation.

But this time,

several of Brian's more perceptive men immediately understood what their boss meant. They hurried toward Irin, wanting to get the rich little fool out of there as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately,

Bang!

The gunshot brought Haisha Bar's people to a halt.

Grey Wolf lowered the smoking gun and fixed his feverish gaze on Brian—or rather, on the beautiful figure Brian was shielding.

"Move."

Brian didn't budge. Staring the other man in the eye, he said, "We've brought the four boxes of protection money. You should leave now."

"I said move. Don't you understand plain speech!?" Grey Wolf shouted impatiently.

"I've changed my mind. Four boxes of money still aren't enough for Haisha Bar's protection fee. You'll have to add the woman behind you, too!"

Grey Wolf made no effort to hide his intentions. To be honest, aside from the few seconds it had taken him to recover, he'd simply been stunned by the "little lamb."

As a mid-ranking underboss of Kalleva, Grey Wolf could throw his weight around Black Cave Settlement. He'd had plenty of beautiful women, but compared to the girl who'd just appeared, all the women he'd been with seemed like defective goods.

The girl's high-class outfit certainly played a part.

But Grey Wolf could afford clothes like that, too. He'd once tried dressing the women under him in expensive designer outfits, but some things couldn't be changed by good clothes alone—like fair, smooth skin, bright, lively eyes, and an air of effortless elegance.

For example...

"Enough, old man. I think the mop-head is right. You're blocking the way, so move it already." An impatient voice came from behind Brian.

And that voice, that tone, that familiar way of addressing him...

There was only one kid in Haisha Bar who would call him that.

Brian turned around in shock.

The bar owner's eyes widened.

"Hmph. I'll settle accounts with you later!"

Irin glared furiously at the stunned man in front of her, then slipped past Brian and walked straight up to the black-clad man across from her.

"Hey, mop-head. I heard you wanted to take me with you?"

At Irin's rude address, the Kalleva members under Grey Wolf immediately grew restless. But the black-clad man raised a hand, stopping them himself.

There was no denying that a woman's beauty was a weapon; it could make men far more tolerant.

"I just think someone as beautiful and elegant as you shouldn't be staying in a filthy rat's nest like this, don't you agree?" Grey Wolf said, putting on what he thought was a charming manner.

He wasn't a fool blinded by lust. Irin's appearance—and the fact that she showed no fear of them—only strengthened his belief that she might really come from an influential family.

So Grey Wolf grew more patient and even introduced himself:

"Hamoud Mullen, current branch leader of Kalleva's Beirang district, and the youngest boss on record in the gang. May I have the honor of knowing your name, miss?"

"Want to know who I am? Come a little closer."

Irin crooked a finger at the black-clad man.

Perhaps because he saw that Irin was a woman whose clothes and appearance seemed harmless, he really did step closer to her.

And when he bent his head slightly, waiting for her answer,

what he got instead was—

"I'm your damn granny!"

Irin's furious profanity was immediately followed by her fist, already clenched as hard as it could be.

Irin showed no mercy. She followed Liao Ji's instructions to the letter, and put all her strength into punching the man in the face as he leaned toward her.

Bang!

The Kalleva gangsters blocking the entrance to the hall heard a dull thud. In one moment, their boss had been leaning toward the rich girl; in the next, he was flying through the air like a kite with its string cut, sailing at least seven or eight meters before crashing behind the bar. A clatter rang out as broken bottles and toppled chairs buried him completely. He didn't move.

The whole thing happened in an instant, so suddenly that neither side had time to react.

But the girl was different.

After landing her first blow, Irin showed no sign of stopping. She seized the opportunity and charged straight at the Kalleva gang members, who still hadn't recovered.

The thin-heeled stilettos on the girl's feet hadn't been Liao Ji's idea; she'd picked them out herself at the clothing store. An ordinary person would have struggled to walk in them, never mind fight. But for Irin, who had become a Corrupted...

The sharp heel was like a knife. As she swung her leg, it sliced precisely across the neck of the gangster in front of her. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he clutched his bleeding neck. Then he crumpled to the floor at the girl's feet.