Chapter 11: Trouble

"Well? Did you take care of the ghost?" As soon as Maxwell stepped out, Odin, who had been waiting nearby, immediately approached him with a questioning look. Though he asked the question, doubt flickered in his eyes. Maxwell had only been inside for a few minutes—had he dealt with it that quickly? Jonathan, standing nearby, shot Odin a sharp glare. That was no way to speak, even if there had been a ghost in there. Where was the decorum of a distinguished family? "Yeah, it's taken care of. The old man should wake up soon," Maxwell nodded. "Just like that? What if you're making it up? And if something happened to Grandpa—if you poisoned him or something—who's responsible then?" Emmanuel scoffed, eyeing Maxwell with apparent disdain. "Shut your mouth!" Maxwell's expression turned icy, but a sharp voice came from inside the room before he could respond, making everyone stiffen in surprise. "Dad, you're awake!" Jonathan turned and saw the old man, Franklin Lousvet, standing there. Relief and joy flashed across his face as he hurried over to support him. "So, you're all so afraid of me dying because I'm still useful as a shield for your business, huh?" Franklin let out a cold huff. Jonathan's face flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly shook his head in denial. "Apologize to this young man!" The old man stepped toward Maxwell, his face stern as he issued the order. Emmanuel's eyes widened in disbelief. But when he met Franklin's piercing gaze, a chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively lowered his head. "I'm sorry for my rudeness earlier. Please don't take it to heart," Emmanuel muttered, though his voice was laced with reluctance. Maxwell waved a dismissive hand, not bothering to acknowledge him. "Since you are awake, I'll take my leave." With that, he turned and started walking away. "Wait! You saved my life. I haven't repaid you yet." Franklin quickly called after him. "I've already received my payment. There's no need for anything else." Maxwell said without stopping. He wasn't lying—after saving Franklin, he could feel his spiritual energy had strengthened significantly. This boost would save him months, if not years, of training. That was the reward the heavens had bestowed upon him. "The Lousvet family never forgets a debt. If you refuse any payment now, consider our family owes you a favor. If you ever need help, don't hesitate to ask." Hearing this, Jonathan's expression shifted. Franklin had deliberately used the name of the Lousvet family, meaning that if Maxwell ever called in the favor, the family would be obligated to comply. Jonathan turned to his father, only to receive a warning glare that made him swallow his words. Franklin sighed as he looked at Jonathon. A man like Maxwell likely wouldn't need their help, but if that day ever came, the Lousvet family would have no choice but to step in. He had sensed what Maxwell had done in that room—someone with such abilities was worth maintaining a good relationship with. "I'll walk you out," Odin quickly stepped forward, offering Maxwell a ride. He walked briskly ahead, as if afraid Maxwell would refuse. When they reached the outskirts of the estate, Maxwell told Odin to stop. He had no intention of revealing his exact residence. It wouldn't be difficult if Odin wanted to find out, but any sensible person would respect the boundary. After dropping him off, Odin hesitated, wanting to insist on escorting him further, but Maxwell declined. Left with no choice, Odin drove away, leaving Maxwell to walk the rest of the way home. Just then, the roar of an engine cut through the night as a car sped toward him. Maxwell halted, his brows furrowing. He had a gut feeling that the car was coming for him. "Hah! Let's see how you escape now without anyone to protect you!" Emmanuel sneered as he stepped out of the vehicle. He had been seething with resentment toward Maxwell for a while. The moment he saw Odin drive off, he secretly followed them, bringing along a group of local thugs. "Mr. Emmanuel, is this the guy you want us to deal with?" One of the goons, a burly man with a nasty grin, asked as he cracked his knuckles. Emmanuel's reputation for generosity regarding "handling problems" was well known. He never skimped on payment as long as they did a good job. The only downside? Emmanuel's temper. Even his men occasionally found themselves on the receiving end of Emmanuel's fists. "You brought this on yourself! Don't blame me for what happens next," Maxwell said coldly, fixing Emmanuel with a sharp gaze. "Hah! Listen to this guy! Does he even realize he's outnumbered?" One of the thugs jeered. "Sounds like he's got a death wish. Let's help him snap out of it!" The thugs snickered and closed in, their eyes gleaming with malice. Emmanuel had made it clear—whoever beat Maxwell the worst would get the largest pay. "Get him!" Emmanuel shouted, watching as his men lunged at Maxwell. Thud! Thud! Thud! A series of dull impacts echoed through the night. Emmanuel froze. His men were fast, sure—but that many hits so quickly? Something was off. Confused, Emmanuel looked up—and his blood ran cold. Maxwell stood there, calm as ever, while every single one of his men lay sprawled on the ground, groaning or unconscious. "You—how did you—?!" Emmanuel stammered, panic gripping his chest. He had never imagined that his men would be wiped out in seconds. "Now, it's your turn," Maxwell said, stepping forward. Emmanuel stumbled back in terror, his face pale. He wasn't stupid—if Maxwell could take down a dozen men in a heartbeat, he didn't stand a chance. He should've brought bodyguards—lots of them. "There you are!" Just as Maxwell was about to move, a clear, melodic voice rang out. A woman in camouflage strode over, exuding confidence and strength. The moment she laid eyes on Emmanuel, her expression darkened, and she glared at him with seething anger. "Scarlett, what are you doing here?" Emmanuel's face shifted the instant he saw her. A hint of unease flickered in his eyes, but he quickly put on a flattering smile and spoke to her respectfully. Scarlett responded with a cold sneer—then, without hesitation, she slapped him hard across the face, showing no concern for his dignity.