The Ice Point Bar was won by Jiang Guangrong through drinking games. Unexpectedly, Wu Feng still hadn't given up on it after more than a year.
"Yeah, Mr. Wu is right. If you don't hand over the bar, don't blame my fists for being rude!" he said.
"I don't think it's time yet for a small fry like you to interfere, is it?" A very handsome man stepped out from behind Zheng Xueyun. His voice was soft and pleasant. He was wearing a gray suit, his hair dyed silver, his skin so fair it would make women jealous. He might be a little older than Jiang Guangrong.
"Who are you? What the hell are you talking about?" Mike had a terrible temper. If he disagreed with someone, he'd just punch that silver‑haired pretty boy.
The handsome silver‑haired man answered him with a punch of his own.
Their fists crashed together, and everyone heard the crisp sound of bones colliding.
The two of them each took two steps back.
