"Boss, he hit me! You gotta stand up for me!"
At this moment, the man sprawled on the ground let out a shout.
Screech!
Following the sound of urgent brakes, a Porsche halted in the middle of the road.
Three dominating vehicles followed closely behind.
After the cars stopped, quite a number of people got out of the Porsche and the imposing cars.
"Christopher Martin, who the hell beat you up like this?"
The owner of the Porsche was a thirty-something-year-old youth, with a crew cut, dark sunglasses, and a gold chain hanging around his neck.
The epitome of a "tuhao," or nouveau riche.
"It was him! I was recording a Crazy Sound with Everett, and this guy just took Everett away. I went to break up the fight, and now both my arms are so smashed up I can't move them."
Christopher Martin howled in pain, not forgetting to tattle in the process.
"Shit! Who the hell dares to touch my brother, grab your weapons!"
