Chapter 41 King of Hell

At this moment, another friend staggered over, speaking with a curious tone: "Samuel, your taste is certainly unique, but I’m very curious about that uncle you mentioned. After all, you hardly talked about him before. I didn’t expect Miss Lindsey to have such deep feelings for him, it’s really unimaginable." The friend teased, "Who would have thought our great beauty wouldn’t like young guys but has instead fallen for a mature uncle." Regarding this topic, Samuel Grant really didn’t feel like mentioning his little uncle, William Foster, and was even less inclined to say more. He just pushed the friend beside him forcefully and responded coldly: "Stop making such jokes, his seniority is a fact." Yet those nearby continued to joke about William Foster. If this business were heard by the man known as the "King of Hell," the consequences could be quite severe. Just as the crowd was laughing and talking, a man wearing a hat and mask quietly approached them and suddenly grabbed the front of Samuel Grant’s shirt, dragging him into a nearby alley without hesitation. Samuel Grant and his friends had drunk too much, and at that moment, no one could react in time to stop what was happening. After the stranger threw Samuel Grant heavily to the ground, he sat directly on his chest, raising his arm without delay. A loud and crisp "smack" echoed in the narrow, dark alley. Following closely, he changed direction and delivered a few more slaps, "smack smack smack" resonating continuously. Faced with this sudden attack, the dizzy Samuel Grant instinctively tried to struggle, attempting to break free, but he couldn’t escape. The assailant maintained a serious demeanor, counting earnestly: "1, 2, 3... 6, 7..." Finally, one of the companions on site noticed things were amiss and immediately shouted: "Oh no! Quick, look, Samuel is being beaten!" Another followed, screaming: "Quick, save him! Go save Samuel!" Upon hearing the cries for help, the group awakened as if from a dream and rushed forward to assist their friend. However, before they could get closer, the mysterious figure kicked one of them flying, instantly flattening a large swath of people. Accompanied by cries of agony: "Ouch, my leg seems broken!" And another voice, not willing to be outdone, shouted: "Damn it, I think my arm’s also broken!" "My face! This guy is way too brutal." "Everyone shut up, I think I got hit in a vital area, it hurts to death, quick, take me to the hospital!" This man, dressed in black and wearing a mask, was certainly no pushover. While slapping, he fiercely kicked away those trying to rescue Samuel Grant, controlling him with one hand as his other hand appeared as an unmerciful hammer, hitting whoever came close. This whole ordeal was actually brought upon themselves by this group. Arthur Davis is an exceptionally stubborn individual, considering anything instructed by Mr. William Foster as paramount as an imperial decree. If anyone tried to hinder his mission. If giving Samuel Grant thirty slaps in a row, that person would certainly face equally severe or even more brutal retaliation. Once the entire set of thirty loud slaps finally concluded, Arthur Davis wore a satisfied expression, quickly snapping a photo of the scene as evidence with a "click" and then left without hesitation. Terrified, Samuel Grant scrambled up from the cold ground, his whole face so swollen from the pain it resembled a huge, soft bun, almost distorted. At this moment, his tongue seemed entirely disobedient, barely uttering unclear words: "You... stop! Who instructed you to come here?" But Arthur Davis knew well that William Foster hadn’t asked him to reveal any information to others. So, in response to Samuel Grant’s questioning, he didn’t react at all and just quietly walked away, leaving behind a face resembling a pig’s head and a group of bewildered, at a loss subordinates. This is Arthur Davis, a Dark Guardian who conducts himself quietly and speaks little. After disappearing into the bustling street, Arthur Davis quickly turned into a relatively secluded alley, where Daniel Wright seemed to have been waiting, suddenly rushing out and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Brother, your skills have really become shocking! I was watching the whole time just now, your slaps really had me on edge." Arthur Davis just glanced at him indifferently, coldly saying three words: "Carrying out orders." Daniel Wright nodded, continuing with an understanding tone: "Mm hm, it must be another arrangement by Mr. Foster, right? All this is to protect that delicate and lovely lady?" However, this time Arthur Davis gave no response, simply using silence as the answer to everything. Regarding anything about Mr. Foster, he was extremely cautious, not casually revealing a shred of information. Seeing this, Daniel Wright didn’t continue to ask, just swallowed a string of questions with reluctance. The two walked silently towards their residence, the silence between them like an invisible wall. Daniel Wright previously was responsible for protecting the lady, and since joining the Hidden Guard, the only one he’d ever guarded was Mr. Foster. But this time, he was unexpectedly assigned to protect a woman about to become Mr. Foster’s wife; what this implied was naturally clear to someone as astute as he. The two figures slowly faded into the distance, disappearing from view, but on Samuel Grant’s side, the air was explosive; his emotions were entirely out of control. Feeling the pain on his face and the immense humiliation in his heart, he immediately called the police, his tone filled with anger and urgency. Before long, a group of police officers and relevant personnel arrived at the hospital to investigate, and the scene appeared very tense. When the police arrived, they saw the furious Samuel Grant yelling loudly: "Is there no justice in this world?! Someone actually dared to beat me in public! Just look at me now, my face is practically unrecognizable!" His loud cries seemed to make the air around them heavy. One officer struggled to hide a smile, asking, trying to maintain a professional and objective tone: "Mr. Grant, have you had any disputes with others recently? Perhaps it’s an act of revenge against you?" These words seemed to touch the most sensitive spot in Samuel Grant’s heart. His eyes flashed with sharpness, followed by an even more intense burst of anger, "What do you mean by that? Are you implying that because I usually speak too frankly, I’ve attracted such treatment? That’s simply absurd!" Samuel Grant retorted angrily.