The Son-In-Law Shot to Fame (Donald and Jennifer)

Chapter 1110 Try Shooting Me

“Did I pass?” Donald asked nonchalantly.

“Y-Yes...” Beckett never dared to underestimate Donald again.

Is this kid some kind of human robot? Doesn't his hand hurt?

Oisin also secretly felt relieved that he had remained cooperative throughout their journey, avoiding any conflicts with Donald.

Otherwise, considering the power behind Donald's punch, he might have found himself on the fast track to the afterlife.

Upon traversing the dimly lit alley, the path suddenly widened up just a few meters ahead.

Initially, Donald had expected the alley to lead to a cramped space, but to his surprise, it opened up into an entirely different world.

Neon signs from gambling dens and hair salons flickered, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the women standing along the roadside.

These women, chewing gum, regarded Donald with an intense, hungry gaze, as though they wanted to devour him.

“These are all Mr. Hound's subordinates, members of Floral Haven. If you truly become a top fighter under Mr. Hound, you won't even have to pay at Floral Haven,” Oisin quipped, a sleazy grin creeping across his face.

It was as if his greatest dream in life was to have the privilege of visiting Floral Haven every day without paying a dime.

“Cut the cr*p. Don't forget why you're here.”

Oisin felt aggrieved. Why I'm here? I'm nothing more than a guide.

The two arrived at the entrance of a karaoke bar and happened to run into Mad Hound, who exited in a suit.

“Mr. Ortega, it's decided then. The affairs of the eastern district will now be under our jurisdiction. Your territory will be managed by us from this point forward,” declared Mad Hound.

“Absolutely. From now on, the success of my business will entirely depend on the Enigma Club.”

The speaker was a middle-aged man, Evan Ortega, who probably also ran a business.

After finalizing the deal with Mad Hound, he hastily left the place.

While the Enigma Club held significant power, the underworld was still dominated by other big shots.

In order to survive, Evan temporarily ceded control of his business to the Enigma Club. He feared that if the other big shots were to find out about this, they might seek retribution against him.

“Mr. Hound, wait!”

Seeing that Mad Hound was about to turn and enter the building, Oisin was quick to get his attention.

With a frown, Mad Hound asked, “Who are you?”

Upon hearing Mad Hound's question, Oisin suddenly felt somewhat embarrassed.

“I'm Oisin, Mr. Hound.”Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

“Oh, Oisin. Can I help you?”

Oisin was left speechless by Mad Hound's question, wondering how he should explain that he brought Donald here to meet Mad Hound.

“You must be Mad Hound.”

Donald took a step forward, pushing Oisin away.

The two bodyguards behind Mad Hound immediately stepped forward, glaring menacingly at Donald.

“You've got guts, brat, calling me Mad Hound right in my face,” said Mad Hound.

“I won't beat around the bush. Who's your boss? Take me to him.”

Donald's words made Mad Hound, who was initially all smiles, become alert.

He doesn't seem like a fool. Could he really be here to pick a fight?

A sense of unease immediately washed over Mad Hound when he recalled the intelligence they had received earlier in the day, which indicated that Newton had enlisted an expert to deal with the Enigma Club.

Could this brat in front of me possibly be that expert?

“You guys handle him. I'll exit through the back door.”

Mad Hound had attained his current status primarily because of his meticulous and cautious behavior.

Just as he was on the verge of turning to make his escape through the rear exit, the two bodyguards who had lunged at Donald were sent flying like soccer balls. They were propelled backward into the building, shattering tables, chairs, and everything else into pieces.

Donald took one step after another toward Mad Hound, his face showing displeasure.

“I'm not one to appreciate complications, so if you're inclined to cooperate, we can make this much simpler,” he said.

“Cooperate, my foot!” Mad Hound drew his gun, pointing it directly at Donald. With a menacing tone, he warned, “I don't care who you are. If you don't want to die, step aside! Bullets don't have eyes.”

“A gun?”

Donald sighed. “Do you really think this piece of junk can hurt me? Why don't you try shooting me if you don't believe me?”