Chapter 206
Chapter 206 The Barrets‘ Dominance
“Is that… the Barrets‘ patriarch p>
#minedt
The ones who had been around long enough recognized him instantly. Their expressions darkened.
The Barrets had spent over thirty years climbing to the top of West Listin. For the first twenty years, one man ran everything. He had connected every major player, opened every door, and built a dynasty from scratch. People called him a legend, but no one knew much about him.
Only one name followed him–Jordan Barret.
“Grandpa,” Henry said as he bowed deeply. Not far off, Peter rushed over with stiff legs and a pale face, barely keeping it together.
Jordan gave Henry a strong pat on the shoulder, his eyes gleaming with pride. “That’s more like it. That’s the kind of fire a Barret man should have p>
Then he turned toward Peter. The second his gaze landed on the heavily made–up woman clinging to Peter’s arm, his look hardened.
“You disgrace the name,” he snapped. “You share the same blood as your cousin, but look at you. Look at him. Why haven’t you learned a thing? All you ever chase is women and cheap pleasure p>
He pointed straight to the edge of the stage, his voice as sharp as steel. “Get out of my sight. Right now. If I catch you wasting your time again, you’re out. The Barrets have no place for the useless p>
Peter’s face drained of color. He stammered something, bowed quickly, and scurried off without looking back. Of everyone in the family, the one man he feared most was this one. Jordan, even in his seventies, still ruled the Barrets with an iron grip. Nothing happened in the family without his say.
Yvette leaned closer to Grace, her voice suddenly cooler.
“Is that your grandfather p>
Ever since Henry tried to trap Madeline on stage, the tension between them had grown stiff and cold.
Grace gave a small nod.
She knew Henry had crossed a line tonight, but there was no stopping what had been set in motion. This was the Barrets‘ way forward, and no one could slow it down now.
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Charples 20% The Wavets Finnsname
必零
#fixligher!
Leander raised his glass and took a slow sip of red wine. A quiet smile curled at the edge of his lips. He hadn’t expected someone like Jordan to be the one behind the curtain.
“Jordan Barret,” a voice called out from across the hall.
Richie Xanderson, the patriarch of the Xandersons, stepped forward. He was the patriarch of the Xanderson family, second only to the Barrets in West Listin. A cane supported his steps, but his voice was steady, and his presence was solid as stone.
“You’ve been off the scene since you stepped down from the Barret Group more than ten years ago. People thought you had gone into quiet retirement. And now, you show up out of nowhere, demanding that every family here give up thirty percent of their businesses? You sound like a man talking in his sleep p>
Richie was one of the few men alive who could speak to Jordan as an equal. They had built their empires during the same era, brick by brick. And while their methods differed, their influence had always been neck and neck.
“We might not match the size of the Barrets,” he said, “but our companies are our own. And now you expect us to just hand them over because you said so? You threaten to lock us in if we don’t comply? That’s not like the man I remember p>
He stood face to face with Jordan without a single trace of fear in his voice.
More guests started to chime in, calling out Jordan’s power play. Voices rose one after another, some angry, others calm, but all firm. Not one of them was willing to back down.
The Barrets were strong, yes. But together, the people in that room represented half of West Listin’s wealth and muscle. They weren’t the type to be bullied.
Jordan’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Xanderson.
His lips curled into a look of contempt.
“Richie Xanderson,” he said. “Still the same loudmouth after all these years. Always stirring the pot, always playing the rebel p>
He kept his hands behind his back, his stance relaxed but commanding. His voice rang through the hall with the weight of years.
“Ten years ago, I might’ve hesitated. But not anymore. I have the power and the nerve to say what I just said. If anyone here refuses to hand over thirty percent, then no one walks out of this plaza p>
Henry stepped forward beside him, his tone cold and biting.
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Chapter pth the Parts Dominance
“Don’t bother calling for help. We’ve cut off all signals. Inside and out, the place is locked tight. We’ve got three hundred of our best men outside this hall. If anyone tries to leave, I promise they’ll regret it”
He clapped once. In the next moment, the doors around the ballroom flew open. Lines of black–suited bodyguards marched in, calm and silent. They raised their weapons, and the barrels turned inward like a black tide pressing on the crowd.
Richie didn’t blink. His voice was as low and steady as ever.
“What is this, Jordan?” he asked. “Are you declaring war on all of West Listin? You really want to stand against every powerful family in this city p>
Jordan nodded once. “That’s exactly what I’m doing p>
Richie let out a quiet chuckle. “You think you can make us bow down with this show of force? You really believe the Barrets are strong enough to bend all of us? You’ve put too much faith in your name p>
He took a single step back. And from behind him, a man in a black leather jacket stepped into view. His presence was heavy, and the air shifted again.
The man looked plain at first glance. His build was average, and his face was forgettable. But his hands told a different story. They were massive–nearly one and a half times the size of a normal man’s. When he stepped forward, the air around him shifted, and a wave of heat rippled through the space.
People nearby flinched as if a furnace had just been turned on beside them.
Richie raised a hand and pointed straight at Jordan. “Mr. Westington,” he said clearly, “grab that old man and bring him down p>
The man didn’t speak. He simply moved. In a blink, he lunged forward like a drawn arrow. He was fast, precise, and merciless. The rule was simple: take down the leader first. That had always been the way.
He crossed ten feet in a single step. Jordan’s bodyguards didn’t stand a chance. The man raised one wide palm and swept them aside. Both men flew backward and hit the floor hard. Blood sprayed from their mouths as they landed.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. People froze where they stood. None of them had seen power like that. Not from a bodyguard. Not from anyone in this city. This man wasn’t just trained–he was built for destruction.
Jordan didn’t budge. He stood straight and calm, not even shifting his weight. His eyes didn’t blink. His expression didn’t change. The attacker felt something strange but didn’t stop. He was only a few feet away now. He reached out to grab Jordan’s throat.
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Chapter 206 The Banels Dominance
Then, a wind whipped across the stage.
Finisher
A hand came in from the side and slammed into his arm. The man had to pull back, forced to abandon his attack and brace for the counter.
A nearby table flipped over with a loud crash. Plates scattered and glass shattered as the force rolled through it. The man stumbled back three paces, feet sliding across the marble floor.
Another figure staggered slightly but held firm. It was Henry Barret.
Everyone turned. The crowd stared, stunned and silent. Henry–the polished heir, the charming gentleman, the man who smiled through every confrontation–had just blocked the strongest fighter any of them had seen.
People couldn’t believe it.
Henry stepped back slowly, five measured steps. His palm burned from the hit, but he didn’t flinch. He lifted his hand, stared at it for a second, and then gave a lopsided grin.
“Crimson Palm,” he said. “You’ve got some skill p>
The man’s eyes narrowed. He had trained for decades. He had reached Elite Grandmaster level.
He had assumed taking Jordan would be easy, but Henry had just stopped him–and Henry wasn’t far behind him in strength.
Jordan tilted his head toward his grandson. “First time going toe–to–toe with an Elite Grandmaster,” he asked. “So, how did it feel p>
Henry laughed softly. “Pretty exciting,” he replied. “But still nothing like going a few rounds with you. That kind of pressure is on another level p>
Jordan stepped forward.
“You use Crimson Palm,” he said. “You must be Crimson Hands, also known as Mr. Westington. The one who made a name for himself in North Listin p>
Mr. Westington’s face stiffened. His chest tightened. Jordan had seen straight through him with barely a glance. Even Richie’s expression shifted. He could feel the weight in the air.
“Who are you really?” Mr. Westington asked. His voice came out low and guarded.
No ordinary retired CEO could know so much about him.
Jordan didn’t answer. He just let out a breath and raised one hand.
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Chapter 205 The Barrets Demingher
The temperature dropped. The air pressed in from all sides like a collapsing wall.
2200
Finished
Mr. Westington’s knees buckled. His body dropped hard onto the floor. He hit the tiles with a sharp crack and couldn’t rise again.
His eyes widened. His mouth fell open as he stared ahead in disbelief.
He had trained for decades. He stood at the edge of martial mastery. Even most legendary fighters couldn’t bring him down like that–not with one move. Only one kind of person could do that. Newest update provided by (.)net
One of The Four Extremes. If Jordan was on par with those four… The thought sent shivers down his spine.
Jordan looked down at him, his tone sharp and cold.
“You learned Crimson Palm from Timothy Crimson, didn’t you?
“I took Timothy down in three strikes. That was before you had even stepped into a training ground. And now you think you can act tough in front of me p>
Mr. Westington’s face twisted with fear. His hands shook. His voice cracked. “You… You’re the Sky–Tearing Demon Tiger p>
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