Chapter 21: The Furious Beast

The next moment.

A heavy, powerful fist slammed down with force.

But it didn’t strike Ethan’s face—it crashed onto the table instead.

The iron interrogation table dented deeply under the impact, yet Lewis, the one who threw the punch, remained unscathed and burst into laughter.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Handsome boy, I won’t do anything to you. I’m just messing with you. When you came in, so many media people took photos. If I hurt you, wouldn’t I be finished?”

“Save it. Just stay here and wait to die. Tell me what you want to eat. I’m from Fernando County, and in my hometown, there’s a custom to treat the dying kindly.”

“You’re definitely going to hit me.”

Ethan simply stared at him.

“What game are you playing? You think you’re... someone special?”

Lewis leaned close to Ethan and muttered a word so complicated it was almost arcane.

Ethan didn’t understand. He guessed it might be Lewis’s true name.

Because earlier, Lewis’s words had carried a force that seemed to command others.

“You’re nothing but a maggot in the sewer…”

“Yeah, I’m just a maggot in the sewer, but I live in a manor in the East Suburb and drive the latest Klaus Longgun. I have things you’ll never own in your lifetime. Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you want to teach a maggot like me a harsh lesson?”

“How laughable, little boy. The power of command and law belongs to upright people like me. Let me teach you—scum crawling out of the muck like you only deserve crude muscle power…”

Lewis sat back carelessly, his tone dripping with mockery.

But the moment he sat down, he noticed his henchmen’s hands instinctively reaching for the guns at their waists.

One of them clenched his fists and stood up.

“What are you doing, have you lost your mind? Sit down!”

Lewis felt something was wrong, even a ripple of unease stirring within himself.

The henchmen, yelled at, seemed to come to their senses. One withdrew his hand, the other prepared to sit.

“Sit down. That’s right. Because you don’t dare—though deep down you want to teach me a lesson, beat me to a pulp, and laugh like you do with all those poor souls, enjoying your pitiful power. But you don’t dare. You can’t bear the consequences. You’re afraid of me…”

“Who’s afraid of you!?”

The one who was about to sit stood up again, and the other reached for his gun once more.

“Gary, sit down. And Sonny, take your hand off that damned gun!” This time, Lewis grew serious. He snarled through gritted teeth; his pupils shrank to pinpoints, and he radiated a cold, imposing aura.

“And you, Lewis, you’re afraid of me.”

Ethan relaxed further, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke slowly.

“You keep saying you want to test yourself against me, yet you never truly strike because you fear you’re no match. You dread losing badly to a maggot you look down on.”

“You…”

“Shut up!!!”

Lewis, who had been sitting and channeling some power, suddenly exploded in rage. He lunged forward, barreling over the interrogation table and pinning Ethan and his chair to the floor. His fist rose high.

“Good, get angry. Someone like you, an upright man, deserves to have a temper. Facing a sewer maggot like me, you should crush me with one hand, not raise your fist and hesitate to strike. Isn’t that humiliating? Come on, Lewis, hit me. Or are you really afraid?”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Lewis’s fist trembled—not because he was scared, but because his body was struggling internally. His body wanted to execute the punch, but the cold, severe aura in his eyes was violently restraining him.

“If I wanted, I could take you down anytime…”

“Enough, Lewis. Stop pretending. You just don’t have the guts. You’re all talk. If you’re scared, sit back down and stop performing.”

“I… Lewis! Calm down! Don’t fall for his tricks. He’s up to something. Sit down! You’re not afraid of him!”

“So who’s the maggot in the sewer after all?”

“I… damn your calm!”

“Bang!”

A fierce punch.

Along with it came the sharp crack of gunfire.

The intense shots were so loud that even the interrogation room’s door couldn’t muffle them.

Outside the precinct, the reporters waiting by the entrance and Anya all heard the commotion.

Anya immediately burst into the precinct.

Inside, the officers were visibly shocked, bewildered that someone was shooting inside their own headquarters.

When Anya stormed in, some tried to stop her. But Anya was formidable, and now empowered by a true name’s blessing—no one could hold her back.

She quickly reached the door of Ethan’s interrogation room.

Then, with a powerful kick, she flung open the door—a moment that showcased the true name’s power unmistakably.

With the door flung wide open, Anya and the group of reporters who rushed in amidst the chaos witnessed the scene.

Inside, one officer stood there, gun in hand, looking dazed. Another officer was circling the table, fist raised, about to strike the man on the floor.

On the ground, Ethan lay pinned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Lewis, like a raging beast, raised his bloodied fist, ready to strike again.

The scene was horrifying, captured instantly by the reporters’ cameras.

Only when the flashbulbs kept flashing did Lewis snap back to reality. He spun around, shouting furiously at the door, “No photos! No photos!”

But the moment had already been perfectly captured.

Amid the chaos, Ethan was rescued. Someone tried to seize the camera from the reporters.

But more people were restraining Lewis, trying to stop his rampage as he still attempted to drag Ethan back.

“Don’t let him go! Come back! You come back here! Damn it! Damn it!”

Escorted out of the precinct, Anya prepared to take Ethan to the hospital.

But Ethan refused. Covering his still-bleeding mouth, he waved to the surrounding reporters.

“Everyone, I’m sure you have many questions. Though I’m physically and mentally exhausted, wounded all over, I must speak out—for myself, and for the rights of all the people of Winsted!”