"I advise you to let go of me now, or you’ll be the one regretting it later, not me."

As soon as I finished speaking, Malcolm sneered. "What did you say? I can’t afford to offend you? Let me tell you, Griffin, I haven't met a single opponent in Langston. You, a mere civil servant, are as easy to crush as an ant."

The classmates around us laughed mockingly after hearing Malcolm’s words. Only the class leader seemed anxious.

"Griffin, I think you should just apologize to Malcolm. We’re just ordinary kids, we can't compete with him. The Fitzroy Family has spread its influence all over Langston, involved in all kinds of industries. If you offend him, your future could get really difficult."

I looked at the faces in front of me, once so familiar, with a deep sense of disappointment. Was this what they call friendship between classmates?

I simply needed to leave early because of something urgent, yet I was repeatedly humiliated.

They mocked me for being poor, for driving a domestic car, but none of that bothered me. But now, someone was actually trying to hit me. Was this really how the wealthy behave?

Since I was young, I’d always been at the top of my class, but I never sought trouble. Even if someone occasionally provoked me, I would just smile and move on.

But I never expected that my usual humble attitude would be seen as weakness, something to be taken advantage of.

When Malcolm saw me staying silent, he thought I had backed down, he pulled out a stack of red bills.

"Griffin, here’s ten thousand dollars. If you crawl under my legs, the money is yours and let's forget about everything that happened before," Malcolm said, his voice dripping with mockery.

"After that, you just drive your little broken car and disappear from my sight. But if you won’t crawl, then consider this money your medical expenses."

My eyes turned cold with fury. "Malcolm, you really are asking for trouble. Do you even know who you're messing with?"

Instead of backing off, Malcolm only grew more arrogant.

"You're just a lackey carrying your boss's bags. What kind of status do you think you have? Did you see that Rolls-Royce outside? Just a single chip of its paint could buy you a whole car!"

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. That was a Phantom S9, not some ordinary car. For most civil servants, owning one wasn’t just unlikely. It was almost unheard of.

Yet here I was, driving it around and being treated with respect everywhere I went. How had he managed to turn it into something so worthless in his eyes?

Ignorance wasn’t the scariest part, but what's worse was when people didn’t realize the trouble they’d brought upon themselves.

As soon as Malcolm finished speaking, the room erupted into thunderous applause.

The sycophants joined in, clapping and chiming in enthusiastically.

"Mr. Fitzroy, you're incredible! You’re driving a car worth millions of dollars at such a young age. You're truly an inspiration to us all."

"Exactly! It's an honor of a lifetime to have a classmate like Mr. Fitzroy."

"Griffin, hurry up and kneel to apologize to Mr. Fitzroy. A thousand dollars is already more than your annual salary!".

The lackeys grew more and more excited, while Malcolm became increasingly smug amidst their flattery.

He basked in the feeling of being the center of attention, not forgetting to mock me in the process.

"Griffin, why are you so quiet now? Weren't you acting all tough just a moment ago? Cat got your tongue?"

As he spoke, he raised his hand and pointed out the window.

"Believe it or not, if you don’t kneel and apologize to me today, I’ll smash your car."

My fists clenched involuntarily. Slowly, I let three words slip from my mouth:

"Go ahead, try."

"I don’t believe you!"

Malcolm hadn’t expected me to hold my ground like this and his expression grew increasingly twisted. After a moment of thought, he waved his hand dramatically.

"Everyone, follow me. Today, I’ll show the whole group how I turn his car into scrap metal!"

The sycophants, eager for more drama, immediately chimed in loudly. "Mr. Fitzroy, you're the man!"

Malcolm led the group outside, his chest puffed out with arrogance. Once everyone had gathered, he quietly lit a cigarette, then pointed at the Phantom car in front of us and shouted, "Smash it!"

At his command, his bodyguards rushed forward in unison.

After a chaotic clatter of banging, one of the bodyguards hurried over to Malcolm, looking flustered.

"Mr. Fitzroy, we’ve been hitting it for a while, but this car… it won’t even dent!"

Malcolm paused briefly before grabbing the iron rod from the bodyguard and storming toward the car with resolve.

Once. Twice. Three times.

He swung the rod with all his might, delivering dozens of heavy blows. Yet, apart from a few chips in the paint, the car remained unscathed.

As Malcolm continued his futile effort, my phone began to buzz incessantly in my pocket. Unable to ignore it any longer, I discreetly answered the call.

"Hello? Yeah, something came up. I won’t be able to make it back right away. Can you inform everyone to move the meeting to Langston Grand Hotel instead? Yes, that’s right. The one owned by the Fitzroy Group. Bring the whole team here."

I had just hung up the phone when Malcolm, panting heavily, walked toward me.

"Griffin, your crappy car must have steel bars inside or something. My hands are completely numb from all that pounding!"

I curled my lips slightly, suppressing a smile.

"Steel bars? I don't know. But I can confirm one thing. It's bulletproof. Oh, and I think you should know the name of the car you've been smashing. It's called a Phantom S9. And no, it’s not any cheaper than your Rolls-Royce."

After hearing my words, Malcolm still acted unimpressed, his face full of disdain.

"Don’t give me that nonsense. It’s just some lousy domestic car. I don't believe it could be worth that much!"

At that moment, someone in the crowd suddenly shouted, "Look over there!"

Hearing this, the crowd immediately turned their heads.

A convoy of military vehicles, with over ten pickups bearing military license plates, drove toward us in a grand procession.

Malcolm immediately put down the iron rod in his hand and greeted them with a smile. "Welcome, leaders! You should’ve let me know in advance so I could make preparations."

At that moment, a tall and handsome officer walked up slowly.

"Hurry up and arrange a private room. Our leaders need to hold a meeting here."

Seeing this, everyone immediately stood still, hands behind their backs, behaving as obedient as elementary school students.

However, I stood motionless in place, not moving an inch.

Malcolm, noticing this, quickly scolded me, "Griffin, move aside! Didn’t you hear what they said?"

I took a few slow steps forward.

"I heard. The leaders are having a meeting here."

Malcolm shouted anxiously, "Why aren't you moving? If you're trying to get yourself killed, don't drag me down with you!"

Get myself killed?

I couldn't help but laugh aloud. "If I'm leaving, who's going to hold the meeting for them then?"