Faron looked at Sal with a smile. "You sure are quite the man, aren't you? You have quite a lot of people on your side."
"I'm going to tell you the truth. I've got a good few more canteen stalls like this one, and I make well into eight figures every year. What do you think you'll be able to do to me, hm?" Sal looked nothing but smug, clearly not thinking much of Faron.
Sal had managed to set up multiple stalls in multiple colleges all thanks to his uncle, Hector.
On top of that, Sal was also skilled enough at networking to have connections in every college possible.
Shia, from Westhand College, was a good example of that, and Sal paid him good money each year.
That was why Sal had not been worried by this incident in the slightest, hardly taking it seriously at all.
It would be handled for sure, either by Shia or Sal's uncle, Hector.
Faron turned to Wilbur. "We're in a bit of a pickle here, bro."
"Well, you can get lost if you can't handle it. I'll get it done," said Wilbur calmly.
Sal burst out laughing at once.
"Finally realizing how hard this is now, are you? What a pity it's too late for that, though! Anyone who lays a finger on me has to pay the price," Sal spat viciously.
Faron pointed at the thug and his men lying on the ground. "So, you admit that these are your men?"
"So what if they are?" Sal said boastfully.
Faron sighed. "I said this was a pickle because I'm going to have to uproot everything you've established, from shutting down all the canteen stalls you own and sending all your supporters to jail. That's going to take significantly more time and effort. You didn't think I was referring to you being the pickle, did you?"
"What do you mean by that?" Sal's expression shifted at once.
Hector's expression darkened as well.
Shia called out, "Who do you think you are, talking such a big talk at a place like this?"
"Oh, you're about to find out real soon," Faron said coldly. He took out his phone after that, dialing a number.
"Are you here?"
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