Chapter 27: Protective of His Son

Tyrion's eyes lit up at the mention of Jared's name, and he immediately followed Sandy's gaze. Jared stopped, giving Sandy a frosty look. Sandy, still arm-in-arm with Tyrion, approached him.

"Hey, Jared. I didn't expect to see you here. My, I almost forgot you're a millionaire now!" she remarked teasingly. "Allow me to introduce Mr. Whitaker. He's from the Whitaker family of Summerbank." Sandy emphasized "Summerbank," seemingly concerned Jared might miss it.

"You're Jared Chance? I've heard a lot about you," Tyrion said, extending a hand. His gaze, however, held a hint of hostility.

Jared, unfamiliar with Tyrion, was baffled by the animosity. Was it because of Sandy?

He shook Tyrion's hand. Just as he began to withdraw it, Tyrion held on, wrenching his hand forcefully. A smirk played on Tyrion's lips. Years of military training set him apart from ordinary scions; his capabilities were not to be underestimated.

Narrowing his eyes, Jared began to gather spiritual energy. Seconds later, he exerted a terrifying force, surprising Tyrion. Tyrion struggled to break free, but to no avail. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. However, with the crowd watching, the humiliation of begging for mercy kept him silent.

Tommy arrived, hastily greeting Tyrion. "Mr. Whitaker! I didn't expect you. Forgive my late welcome!"

Tommy's arrival prompted Jared to snort, give Tyrion a scornful look, and release his hand. Tyrion's face drained of color; his hand trembled. He glared at Jared before stalking off, ignoring Tommy.

"Mr. Chance, he's from the Whitaker family in Summerbank," Tommy whispered, "Avoid offending him or his family. His father, Kane, is fiercely protective of his son. He won't let you off easily if he learns of this humiliation."

"I won't provoke him. So what if he's a Whitaker?" Jared's eyes flashed coldly. He turned and returned to the back room.

Since meeting his birth mother the previous night, he'd become more bloodthirsty, though seemingly unaware of the change. Perhaps it stemmed from his desire to improve his abilities, to gather money for expensive cultivation herbs.

"Damn it! No wonder Leyton's afraid of him," Tyrion muttered, staring at his pale hand.

"Are you alright, Mr. Whitaker?" Sandy asked, gently massaging his palm. "Jared used to be a dimwit, but after three years in jail, he's become a powerful martial artist!"

What exactly happened to Jared in those three years?

"He must have been beaten frequently," Tyrion declared spitefully. "Otherwise, he couldn't have become so strong. But no matter how skilled, he won't live long."

"What do you mean?" Sandy asked, unaware of Leyton and Tyrion's previous conversation.

Tyrion gave her a cold stare. "Don't ask unnecessary questions."

"Sorry, Mr. Whitaker!" she quickly apologized.

(The final promotional sentence was removed as it is irrelevant to the story itself.)