The next morning...
Several black vehicles screeched to a halt in front of Johann's memorial venue.
"Quick!"
"Hurry up!"
An army of men clad in black suits clambered out of the cars and fell into formation swiftly.
A large figure alighted from the Rolls-Royce leading the procession.
He was close to two meters tall, very well-built, and fierce-looking.
He was Kyle Langdon, Tom Barton's personal assassin.
He advanced towards Johann's memorial with his men.
The security guards standing by the entrance stopped them in their tracks. "Who are you?"
Thud! Thud!
Kyle sent two flying kicks into the guards' faces, launching them into the air and into the memorial venue.
Blood poured out of their mouths the moment they made contact with the cold, hard floor.
Everyone in the memorial gasped in horror.
Dean rushed forwards with his men and bellowed, "Who do you think you are?"
"We are from the Barton Group!” Kyle said coldly.
Dean's face changed the moment he heard that. He knew that the Bartons would send someone after them sooner or later.
However, he had underestimated their speed.
Kyle shoved Dean aside roughly and rushed over to Tom, who was still kneeling on the floor and looking haggard.
They fell to their knees before Tom and began to plead for his mercy. "Young Master! We are sorry for the wait! Please forgive us for our tardiness!"
Tom lifted his head weakly to look at his capable subordinate before a spark went off in his eyes. "You're finally here, Kyle! I might meet my end right here if you had come any later."
Kyle stepped forward and helped Tom up to his feet.
Tom's legs were completely numb from kneeling, so Kyle turned to his subordinates and ordered, "Take the Third Young Master to the hospital first. We'll deal with those scumbags later.”
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