Chapter 922: Trying to Outmuscle Me?

At Big Fish Karaoke, a pack of tattooed toughs lounged around shirtless, belting out songs like they owned the place. Among them sat a middle-aged man in his early forties, nearly six and a half feet tall. The back of his neck was knotted with thick folds of flesh, and a heavy gold chain hung on his chest. His face looked like it had been carved for violence. He smoked with slow, arrogant drags, his eyes flicking toward the door every so often. Earlier, some punk with a death wish had called him...