Hearing the doorbell ring, Jiang Hai was briefly stunned. He walked to the door, picked up the intercom phone, and saw two familiar figures standing outside. One of them was Doyle George. Jiang Hai had fought alongside him before. After that incident, Doyle was transferred to the Boston Police Department and promoted directly to police chief—an impressive leap that suggested his family held significant influence in law enforcement.
As for the other person, Jiang Hai also had some recollection. He was a large man whom Jiang Hai had encountered three times.
The first time was during an underground boxing match in Miami, where the man had killed his opponent and sustained serious injuries himself.
The second encounter had been on a Miami street. Jiang Hai had found him interesting and treated him to a hamburger. Coincidentally, there had been a car accident that day. Jiang Hai ended up covering 70% of the man's medical expenses, since the four girls responsible for the accident could only afford basic treatment costs. Jiang Hai had paid for the remaining recovery, including treatment for the man's internal injuries.
The third meeting was at Jiang Hai's own villa. Back then, the man had initially come as an enemy. But, for reasons unknown, he turned against his comrades at the last moment, saving Darlene and the others. His action bought them enough time to free Azarina and fend off the invaders. He was gravely injured in the process and sent to the hospital. Though Jiang Hai had initially wanted to kill everyone who broke into his home, this man had helped him—so Jiang Hai spared him and even arranged for his treatment.
Now seeing them again, Jiang Hai was confused. Why were these two here? To thank him? That seemed the most likely reason—but he truly wasn't sure.
"Hey Doyle, what brings you to my place?" Jiang Hai asked over the intercom. Since he couldn't figure it out, he simply asked. He wasn't one to keep questions bottled up.
"Hey man, you're right—I'm usually swamped. But today, I'm mainly here to accompany this big guy. Come on, open the door. We'll explain inside," Doyle replied with a grin.
Without hesitation, Jiang Hai opened the gate and stepped out to meet them. After the gate slid open, the two returned to their car and drove into the estate.
They parked in the lot and stepped out. Connorson, the big man, visibly trembled when he saw Jiang Hai. He had put in a lot of effort tracking Jiang Hai down. Now, finally, he had found him.
"Come on in—huh? Wait, what are you doing?!" Jiang Hai began walking toward them, but before he could finish his greeting, Connorson rushed forward, knelt on the concrete ground in front of the villa, and slammed his head down in a heavy kowtow. The loud bang startled Jiang Hai, who quickly ran over and grabbed Connorson to stop him.
"What the hell? What's going on?" Jiang Hai exclaimed, still trying to make sense of the situation.
"Benefactor, do you still remember me? I heard that in China, this is how you show gratitude!" Connorson said in a deep, buzzing voice. He might've been a little simple-minded, but he wasn't stupid—his speech was surprisingly fluent.
"There's really no need for this. Get up, seriously!" Jiang Hai said, laughing awkwardly as he felt Connorson's immense strength. This guy was clearly close to the limits of human strength.
But compared to Jiang Hai, who possessed four times the peak human strength, Connorson was still a long way off. In a display that shocked Connorson, Jiang Hai effortlessly lifted him to his feet.
Connorson's eyes widened. In his entire life, no one had ever managed to lift him like that. At that moment, his gaze toward Jiang Hai grew even more intense. He had always admired only one type of person—those stronger than himself. Jiang Hai had not only saved his life but was also stronger than him. In Connorson's simple, loyal heart, Jiang Hai was now both a savior and someone worthy of reverence.
"Man, how the hell did you lift him so easily? I'm really starting to doubt your genes. Are you a humanoid Tyrannosaurus? Or maybe an alien here to invade Earth?" Doyle George said, watching in disbelief.
"The reason I came to Earth is to deal with your sister," Jiang Hai shot back with a smirk, casually dropping an F-bomb in his playful reply.
"Too bad I don't have a sister. But if I did, I'd definitely let her marry you. Getting targeted by a billionaire? That'd be the happiest day of her life," Doyle joked back without missing a beat. Americans weren't easily offended by such humor.
"Whatever, let's go inside and talk," Jiang Hai said, waving them toward the villa. But the moment Connorson stepped in…
Azarina, who had been slicing a steak, froze. Xiao Huang and Xiao Bai, who had been playing nearby, instantly became alert. Ban Ya and Jiu Jiu looked over as well. Their eyes locked onto Connorson with a fierce, wary intensity—especially Xiao Huang and Xiao Bai, who had stopped playing and were now slowly circling closer, eyes sharp and alert like wolves.
Animals are highly sensitive to murderous intent. Someone could be covered in blood from countless fights, but if they had never taken a life, they wouldn't carry that intangible aura—just aggression. Only those who had truly killed before radiated murderous intent.
Some professional fighters or boxers, even if they were brutal in the ring, had a sense of restraint. They were fierce but not lethal. That wasn't real killing intent—it was more like trained savagery.
But a killer was different. The knowledge that they could kill, and would, created fear in their opponents—fear that disrupted rational thought. That's why serial killers often looked so ordinary on wanted posters; their appearance betrayed nothing of the bloodshed they caused.
Connorson Peters had been an underground boxer since the age of fourteen. Now twenty-nine—one year older than Jiang Hai—he had fought thirty-four matches and won every single one. In the world he lived in, losing meant death—either at the hands of his opponent or his boss. Every underground boxer had blood on their hands. Every one of them carried that killer's aura.
That was why the moment he entered the room, he was instantly targeted. Animals like Xiao Huang and Xiao Bai could sense it immediately.
Azarina, too, noticed. Her past profession had given her a trained sense for danger. She recognized the same murderous aura that she herself had long learned to control.
But unlike Connorson, she could suppress hers. His was uncontrolled—natural. However, they all sensed that while the aura was present, he bore no malice toward Jiang Hai or anyone else in the room. So no one made a move.
"Have you eaten? Perfect timing—come sit down and join us," Jiang Hai offered.
In the U.S., people rarely invited guests to dine at home. Meals were usually eaten out, and there was no real tradition of spontaneous home-cooked hospitality. But Jiang Hai wasn't American. As the saying goes, if you meet someone, you break bread.
Doyle found it a bit unfamiliar, but knowing Jiang Hai wasn't just being polite, he didn't hesitate. He took a seat at the dining table, with Connorson quickly following.
Jiang Hai brought out clean plates and utensils, then sat back down to eat. Doyle and Connorson dug into their steaks—today prepared not by Jiang Hai, but by Xiaoya.
While Jiang Hai had been away with friends, Xiaoya had taken the opportunity to study Western cuisine. She still wasn't on par with professional chefs, but her cooking far outclassed Jiang Hai's.
As for the beef? That was another story entirely. Doyle immediately recognized its quality. Connorson didn't understand the specifics—he only knew the steak was incredible.
Watching the two of them eat so ravenously they nearly lost all composure, Jiang Hai muttered under his breath, mildly disgusted. But deep down, he was pleased. Their reactions confirmed it: his beef was the real deal.
"If you like it, eat more. I don't have a lot of things, but I've got plenty of this stuff!"