Public Humiliation and a Declaration of Power

Before the echoes of Daniel Crawford's roar, "Never mind!" had faded, he turned abruptly, filled with the fury of being fooled and the urge to escape this place of shame, and was about to take a step.

He didn't even glance at the astonished, amused, or gloating looks around him; he just wanted to disappear immediately, return to his office—a symbol of power and authority—and then slowly devise a plan to make this arrogant young man from Great East pay the price.

However, his foot had barely lifted, the sole of his shoe not yet completely off the smooth marble floor—

Two figures, like ghosts or cheetahs that had anticipated his movements, moved almost simultaneously from the left and right.

K, who had been standing silently behind Lin Feng like a statue, and Lü Yi, who had just been humiliated by the female celebrity and whose eyes still held lingering resentment, both took a half-step forward the instant Crawford turned around. Their movements were swift, precise, and silent, yet carried an undeniable sense of oppression.

Crawford felt two enormous, steady, and utterly irresistible forces suddenly come from both sides of his shoulders! The force was not a violent impact, but more like two iron mountains instantly sinking down, pressing steadily and solidly onto his shoulder blades!

It was Lü Yi and K's hand.

Lü Yi's hands were broad and rough, with prominent knuckles. When he gripped them, it felt like an iron clamp was clamping down on him, carrying a savage aura that belonged to the jungle and the smoke of gunpowder. K's hands, on the other hand, were more slender and steady. His pressure points were precise, and his strength was restrained yet unfathomable, carrying the professionalism and ruthlessness of a special forces soldier subduing a target.

"Well!"

Crawford was caught off guard. His body was suddenly pressed down by the combined force of the two forces, and he staggered backward uncontrollably! His tall and strong body, like a puppet controlled by an invisible hand, was "thumped" back into the armchair he had been so eager to escape in a very disheveled manner!

He could even hear the sickeningly soft "crack" of his spine and bones being forced to submit under immense force. The fabric of his expensive custom-made suit creased unsightly instantly under the grip of two large hands. Overwhelming humiliation and rage surged over him like a tsunami, even temporarily overshadowing the aching in his shoulders.

"What... what are you doing?!" Crawford was both shocked and furious, his face turning a deep purplish-red. He roared instinctively, and at the same time, his body erupted with astonishing strength as he struggled to stand up again. He was not a weak businessman who couldn't even kill a chicken; he had loved sports in his youth, and now, under extreme shame and anger, his strength was not to be underestimated.

However, no matter how tense his muscles or how hard he tried to push away the pressure on his shoulders, Lü Yi and K's hands remained firmly planted on his shoulder blades, completely unmoved. He could even sense that the owners of those hands were breathing in the same unwavering, eerily calm.

Their eyes remained unwavering, coldly looking down at him as if they were holding down a disobedient animal trying to break free of its leash. This absolute, overwhelming power and the resulting fear of completely losing control of his situation made Crawford's heart pound wildly, his blood rush to his head, and his vision begin to blur.

His two assistants, only now recovering from their shock, rushed forward to help: "Sir!" "Let go of Mr. Crawford!"

But behind Lin Feng, several other security personnel who had been scattered around and appeared to be ordinary guests (also in plain clothes, but with a sharp and capable demeanor) had silently moved and stood between the two assistants and the round table.

They made no aggressive moves, simply standing there silently, their eyes calm yet sharp, forming an invisible, intimidating barrier. The two assistants, stung by their gazes, froze in their tracks, afraid to approach, their faces filled with tension and bewilderment.

The air around them froze completely. All the deliberately hushed conversations, the feigned laughter, the clinking of glasses vanished in that instant.

The entire banquet hall seemed to have been muted, with only the distant band still playing soothing jazz music in a daze, the sound of which now sounded absurd and distant.

Countless gazes, filled with shock, horror, disbelief, excitement, and fear, all focused on the small round table area.

What started as a verbal conflict has now escalated into physical coercion and control! At the "Night of Enlightenment" charity gala! And the person in question is Daniel Crawford, CEO of All-American Express! Everyone held their breath, their eyes wide.

In this deathly silent, tense, and terrifying atmosphere, Lin Feng slowly and deliberately stood up.

His movements as he rose were slow, even deliberate and elegant. He first straightened the hem of his suit jacket, which was slightly wrinkled from his sitting posture, and then stepped around the small round table to stand before Crawford, who was being held firmly in his chair, trembling with anger and fear, his eyes bloodshot.

Now, Lin Feng was looking down at Crawford, who was sitting in a chair.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze calmly settling on Crawford's face, contorted with extreme emotional turmoil. His voice rang out, not loud, but in the deathly silence, it was as clear as ice beads rolling onto a jade plate, each word carrying a cold quality and an unquestionable tone of judgment:

"I told you, I hate talking with my head tilted back."

He paused, as if stating a very simple fact.

"Now, we can have a dialogue as equals."

Equality? Crawford was pinned to the chair, like a lamb to the slaughter. This was supposed to be equality?! Crawford was so angry he almost vomited blood. His chest heaved violently, and he forced out a hoarse, blood-tinged voice through clenched teeth. "Lin Feng! What do you think you're doing?! This is United States! A society governed by the rule of law! You dare touch me?!"

He tried to use the law and social rules as a final deterrent, but his voice trembled slightly with shock, anger, and the increasingly obvious pressure coming from his shoulders.

"What do I want to do?" Lin Feng repeated, then suddenly smiled. The smile was faint, barely reaching his eyes, just a very slight curve at the corner of his mouth. But combined with his downward gaze and icy eyes, it was more chilling than any ferocious expression. There was no warmth in that smile, only a cruel, cat-and- Rat- like mockery.

"I don't want to do anything," Lin Feng said slowly, his gaze sweeping over Crawford's angry and terrified eyes, over his slightly trembling lips, and over the wine stains on his expensive suit that had been spilled in his excitement. "I just want to tell you—"

He reached out and picked up the almost untouched, amber-colored single malt whiskey he had just placed on the small round table. The glass looked delicate and fragile between his slender fingers.

"Cooperation must continue."

He gently swirled the wine in his glass, the amber liquid forming alluring "tears" on the crystal rim, refracting a mesmerizing luster under the dazzling lights. His movements were slow and steady, as if he were admiring a work of art.

Crawford's heart sank to the bottom; a sense of foreboding washed over him like ice water.

"However, the details of the cooperation must be as I say." Lin Feng's gaze refocused on Crawford, his deep black eyes now clearly reflecting the man's disheveled and terrified image. He spoke each word with a steady voice, yet it was like the sharpest ice pick, piercing Crawford's eardrums and into his already fragile nerves.

"I'm definitely taking your company's defense transportation business."

He paused, giving the other man a final moment to process this arrogant declaration, before adding that naked threat that plunged Crawford into an icy abyss:

"You can try, but don't give it to me."

Before he could finish speaking...

Amidst Crawford's suddenly contracting pupils, the subtle gasps of everyone around him, and Lü Yi and K's unwavering pressure points—

Lin Feng slightly twisted his wrist, then gently flipped it.

He tilted the expensive, amber-colored whiskey glass and slowly, steadily, and evenly poured it over Daniel Crawford's meticulously groomed, but now slightly disheveled, silver-white head, filled with anger and fear.

The amber-colored liquor, like a thin, viscous waterfall, drew a brief, dazzling arc under the light, landing precisely on the center of Crawford's head.

The liquid made a slight hissing sound the moment it touched the hair. Then, the liquid quickly flowed, soaked, and trickled down Crawford's meticulously combed hair.

They flowed over his broad forehead, scattering his carefully maintained dignified hairstyle; they streamed over his eyes, wide with shock and rage, forcing him to close them in embarrassment; they flowed over his high nose, his tightly pursed lips, trembling with humiliation; finally, they gathered at his chin, dripping down and soaking his expensive silk tie, the front of his pristine white shirt, and the deep navy blue Armani bespoke suit that symbolized his status and position.

Wherever the liquor touched, it left dark, messy wet streaks, exuding a rich and spicy whiskey aroma that mingled with Crawford's original cologne, creating a bizarre and humiliating aura. In an instant, he transformed from the arrogant industry tycoon he had just been into a ridiculous and pathetic clown, drenched in public.

Time seemed to stretch out infinitely at that moment. Everyone stared blankly at the scene, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to think. Pouring wine! Pouring wine in public! At a top-tier charity gala, against the CEO of "All-American Express"! This was no longer a simple conflict or provocation; it was a public, extreme, and merciless humiliation! It was a complete breakdown of relations, placing both sides in a hopeless situation with no room for maneuver!

Lin Feng poured the wine slowly and carefully, as if performing some kind of ritual. Only when the last drop of wine fell onto Crawford's forehead did he flick his wrist and casually place the empty glass on the small round table next to him with a "clang," the crisp sound particularly jarring in the deathly silence.

Then, almost at the same moment their glasses hit the table, Lü Yi and K, as if receiving a silent command, released their hands from Crawford's shoulders, stepped back behind Lin Feng, and returned to being silent guards. But their gazes remained coldly fixed on Crawford.

The pressure vanished abruptly, Crawford shuddered violently, coughing uncontrollably. The burning sensation from the whiskey and the overwhelming humiliation brought tears to his eyes.

He frantically rubbed his face with both hands, trying to wipe away the sticky liquid, but the more he rubbed, the more messy it became, mixed with possible tears and cold sweat, making him look even more disheveled.

Struggling and swaying, he stood up from the chair that felt like a torture device, his body trembling violently from extreme anger and humiliation, as if it were about to fall apart at any moment.

He raised his head, his face a mixture of alcohol, tears, and twisted anger. His once sharp, gray-blue eyes were now bloodshot, like those of a wounded beast, staring intently, resentfully, and with all his might at Lin Feng, who remained calm as if he had merely poured a glass of water.

"You... you..." He pointed at Lin Feng, his fingers trembling like leaves in the wind, his voice hoarse and broken, almost incoherent, "You'll regret this! I promise! Lin Feng! You'll pay a price you can't even imagine for what you've done today!"

In his current wretched state, this threat sounded weak and feeble, even carrying a hint of a dying wail. But the deep-seated hatred it contained was clear to everyone.

Having said that, he could no longer bear to stay there for even a second, nor could he bear the countless gazes around him, so real they were fixed on him, a mixture of shock, pity, ridicule, and fear.

He abruptly lowered his head, like an old lion utterly defeated and only wanting to escape the arena. He shoved aside a waiter who happened to be passing by with a tray, and also his two bewildered assistants. With his head down, he awkwardly covered his face with his arms, staggering and almost fleeing, rushing out of this area that had humiliated him, and sprinting towards the exit of the banquet hall. He even slipped on the smooth floor and almost fell.

As he passed the waiter he had bumped into, he didn't even look at him. He snatched the pristine white hand towel from the waiter's tray, roughly wiped it on his face, head, and neck, and then slammed the filthy, wine-stained towel onto the gleaming marble floor with a dull thud.

Without turning his head, he quickly disappeared around the corner leading to the exit, leaving behind a mess and a shattered image of an industry giant.

The banquet hall remained deathly silent. Everyone was still reeling from the shocking scene that had just unfolded, unable to recover for a long time. The air was filled with the aroma of whiskey and an indescribable, chilling fear.

Lin Feng stood there, staring in the direction Crawford had disappeared, his face expressionless. He calmly picked up another clean glass of champagne that the waiter had promptly handed him, took a small sip, and then shook his head.

He raised his voice slightly, not loudly, but loud enough for those in the vicinity, and even those further away who had been watching, to hear clearly. His tone carried a faint, almost regretful sarcasm, as if he were commenting on a dish that didn't suit his taste, or a poorly acted performance.

"You just left like that?"

He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips, a smile even more chilling than when he had poured the wine.

"That's really... tasteless."

The last two words, spoken lightly, were like two heavy slaps across the air, striking Daniel Crawford's back as he left the stage, and resonating in the hearts of everyone present.

After a brief silence, a huge, uncontrollable buzz suddenly erupted throughout the banquet hall! People could no longer maintain their composure; they whispered among themselves, exchanged glances, and displayed a variety of expressions. But without exception, when they looked again at the Great East man from Tokyo University who still stood calmly in the same spot, the meaning in their eyes had undergone a complete transformation.

Contempt? Curiosity? Assessment? Winning over?

They all disappeared.

Instead, there was solemnity, scrutiny, deep apprehension, and a hint of indescribable fear.

This young man is not only rich, tough, and vindictive, but also acts without restraint... More importantly, he seems to possess the absolute strength and confidence to act this way (those bodyguards who subdued Crawford in an instant, that cold gaze that treats industry giants as nothing).

He was no longer a "newly rich man to befriend" or a "fat sheep to be slaughtered," but an extremely dangerous, unpredictable beast that seemed completely unbound by the rules of the "civilized society" they were familiar with.

What he revealed wasn't a business plan, but fangs.

The previously arrogant and rude Emma Russell was now pale-faced, hiding behind the crowd, tightly gripping her female companion's arm, her eyes filled with lingering fear as she looked in Lin Feng's direction, her body still trembling slightly.

The conman Mike Anderson stood not far away by a decorative pillar, watching Lin Feng from afar with extreme excitement and calculation in his eyes, like a hyena that had discovered a more precious prey.

The new rules, in the most brutal and bloody way, have been imprinted on the minds of many present tonight.

Lin Feng calmly finished the last bit of champagne in his glass, placed the empty glass back on the waiter's tray, gave K and Lü Yi slight nod, then turned and walked toward the relatively quiet terrace, as if the commotion that had shaken Seattle's high society was nothing more than a trivial, even somewhat boring pastime for him.