The Man's Decree novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12 Having A Death Wish

“Beat him up! Kill him!” Warrick shouted with much viciousness. He was struggling to his feet with a hand over his cheek after he went flying with a slap from Jared.

On the stage, the corners of Leyton’s mouth turned up in a sadistic smile.

Everyone is just watching Jared make a fool of himself! No one sympathizes with him, so they definitely won’t save him!

In the face of the attack by the dozen men, Jared sneered and took a step forward.

Boom!

With that single step of his, the entire banquet hall seemingly shook as though there was an earthquake.

In a split second, the goons let out agonized wails before they all went flying back, smashing the tables and chairs around them. The entire place became a disaster area.

At once, the guests were all stumped.

As Baldy gaped at his lackeys on the ground, a chill ran down his spine.

At that moment, a well-dressed middle-aged man at the wing of the stage frowned deeply.

That person was none other than the patriarch of the Scott family, Yoel Scott, who was also Leyton’s father. Naturally, he was there since it was his son getting married.

As such, he saw Jared throwing the dozen goons back.

He was a martial artist himself, so he could tell that the man’s capabilities weren’t to be underestimated.

On the stage, Leyton’s brows creased when he saw the turn of events. “Damn it! What a useless bunch!” he roared as he rushed down the stage.

“Darling…” Sandy, too, dashed after him.

“Don’t act rashly, Leyton!”

Yoel, who had been sitting at the side of the stage without making a move, likewise went over, afraid that his son wouldn’t be Jared’s match.

“What’s going on? What exactly is happening here?”

A dozen hotel security guards rushed in with rubber batons.

In the five or six years Glamor Hotel had been operating, no one had dared to make trouble there. After all, it was the property of the wealthiest family in Horington, the Sullivan family.

Furthermore, it was the heir to the Scott family’s wedding then. The Scott family’s influence was a mere fraction beneath that of the Sullivan family, so whoever dared to kick up a fuss was equivalent to having a death wish.

In the private room on the third floor, William frowned when he heard crashing sounds from downstairs.

The hotel manager hastened over, his forehead dotted with cold sweat.

“What’s happening downstairs?” William questioned in chagrin.

“Someone is making trouble at the Scott family’s wedding banquet. He beat several people up and even broke things,” the manager hurriedly explained.