The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 143 – Don’t Be Unreasonable?

"Thank you for the warm welcome. Such a grand reception... I'm truly honored."

Carlos nearly burst a blood vessel.

"Thank your mother!" he cursed internally.

Even Barron couldn't keep his face straight. In all his years, he had never encountered someone as brazen and unfiltered as this young man. At this point, whether or not John had once helped his daughter and son-in-law no longer mattered. He had to pay a heavy price for this insolence.

Barron turned and said coldly, "Alan, he's all yours."

But something was off.

While Barron expected Alan—the fearsome martial artist with a terrifying reputation—to step forward with cold confidence, the man instead stood frozen.

His face had gone pale.

Because the moment Alan saw John's face clearly... his soul nearly left his body.

It was him.

The man who cut off his arm.

A terrifying figure he never wanted to encounter again.

How did I get so unlucky? Facing this devil twice in a row?!

Alan's legs began to tremble.

"Barron... I'm returning the money. I can't take this job," he said, his voice shaking.

Barron's expression darkened. "Alan, what are you saying? Didn't you guarantee victory when you accepted the reward? What's happening now?"

Carlos chimed in, thinking Alan was just bargaining. "Trying to raise your price, huh? Fine! I'll add 30% more! That's my final offer!"

Raise the price?

Alan nearly screamed, "Who the hell wants your money? I'm trying to stay alive!"

With a face full of fear, Alan shouted, "I'll give you double your payment back! I quit! You're on your own!"

And then—

To everyone's shock, Alan ran straight toward John.

Lester's heart sank. He panicked and cried out, "Dr. John, watch out! That's Alan—the martial artist they hired to kill you! He's vicious and ruthless!"

But John didn't flinch. In fact, a smirk played on his lips.

"Vicious? How vicious?" he asked lightly.

Lester was about to reply when Alan did something that made the entire courtyard freeze in disbelief.

From a long distance away, Alan suddenly dropped to his knees.

Thud!

He... fell?

Lester and Sara were stunned. Had Alan stumbled?

But then—what Alan said next left them utterly speechless.

In a trembling voice, Alan begged,

"Master... this has nothing to do with me. I was just... taking a walk after dinner and happened to pass by..."

Hiss—!

Two sharp gasps echoed from Lester and Sara.

He didn't fall.

He knelt.

To John.

How could that be?!

John chuckled. "I believe you. Now, go look after my bike."

"Y-yes! It's my honor!" Alan said gratefully.

He stood up, cradled John's bike with his one remaining arm, and guarded it with the reverence of a devoted servant.

Lester: speechless.

Sara: dumbfounded.

Alan even turned to them and snapped, "What are you staring at?! Want to die?"

They flinched and quickly looked away.

Was that really Alan? The feared underground monarch? Or an impersonator?

By now, John had walked deep into the courtyard and was standing directly in front of Barron Branton.

Everyone was still recovering from the shock of Alan's submission.

That was Alan—the infamous martial tyrant of New York! And yet... he knelt like a scared child.

Could it be that this young man had an even more terrifying background?

Barron's eyes narrowed. Still shaken, he asked cautiously,

"Who are you? Where did you come from?"

John smiled calmly.

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**"That doesn't matter. What matters is this—I'm here to take your son's legs tonight. Do you have a problem with that?"

The words struck like thunder.

Barron's heart sank. He wanted to lash out but restrained himself. After all... Alan's reaction wasn't fake.

Trying to de-escalate, he said, "Young man, I don't know what happened between you and Carlos, but no matter the conflict, it can be resolved peacefully. Why not sit down and talk?"

John's smile faded slightly as his eyes narrowed.

"You don't know what happened between us, yet you already tried to have me killed?"

Barron's expression stiffened. "Maybe... there was a misunderstanding."

John sneered.

"If I were a nobody with no strength, would you still call it a misunderstanding? No. I'd be dead right now in your backyard."

That silenced Barron.

He realized now that John hadn't come to negotiate. He had come to execute justice—his own kind.

Barron took a deep breath and said more seriously,

"You're also from New York. There's no need to turn this into a vendetta. Can't we handle this diplomatically?"

"Oh, so now you think I'm being unreasonable?" John asked, laughing coldly.

Without warning, he spun around and—

BAM!

—kicked Carlos to the ground with one clean, vicious strike.

Carlos howled in pain, clutching his chest.

John stood over him, his voice sharp as ice.

"When your son strutted around New York acting like a king—did you try to 'talk it out' with me back then?"