Chapter 75: Phobia Of Man

The gang leader’s eyes bulged, and his mouth involuntarily opened as his throat was being squeezed with force.

He wanted to scream, but all that came out were short, broken whimpers.

Ethan met his eyes indifferently, then pulled his hand away. The man immediately descended into a coughing fit, splashing spittle everywhere.

Ethan stepped back, avoiding the stain.

After recovering a little, the gang leader cleared his throat and glared at Ethan. "You want to kill me? Go ahead. Your entire family will regret it."

Ethan showed no noticeable reaction, but the faint twitch of his eyes gave away his irritation.

Sighing, he took off his shirt and draped it over the man’s head.

Knowing what was coming, the gang leader frantically shook his head, trying to get the cloth off him.

Now shirtless, Ethan turned to one of Vincent’s men standing by the corner.

"Get me a bucket of water."

Eventually, Maxwell managed to shake the cloth off, letting it fall to the ground.

"You bastard! You want to torture me. Do you know who I am? Maxwell Miller! Touch a hair on my head and see if my Miller family doesn’t touch you!"

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "You’re that disgraceful son of the Miller family?"

Maxwell turned to him with a vicious expression. "Disgraceful? What do you know? I’m on an undercover mission to control this city and get it for my father! So think twice before you make funny moves on me."

Ethan ignored his whining and waited for the guy to bring the water. Once he delivered the bucket, Ethan picked up his shirt and draped it over Maxwell’s head.

"Hey! You still want to do it?!"

Ethan didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up the bucket and slowly poured it over Maxwell’s covered head.

Instantly, the shirt was soaked, and it clung to the guy’s skin tightly. His nostrils were blocked, and he had to breathe using his mouth.

Before he could adjust, Ethan gripped his neck tightly, pressing his thumb against the guy’s Adam’s apple.

"Kuak!"

Maxwell released a small scream that quickly died out and he began struggling intensely. His nostrils had been blocked, and he was even breathing in water.

His neck was slowly being crushed, and everything hurt like hell. Under the cloth, his eyes watered, but it barely mattered. His body shook in protest, like a person about to die.

However, Ethan didn’t stop. He didn’t even ask any questions. Instead, he continued tightening his grip until Maxwell’s windpipe had been closed.

Only when he noticed the young man’s struggle easing did he pull away and remove the soaked shirt.

Maxwell instinctively sucked in a large amount of air, his throat hurting as he did. His face was completely red, and he looked like he might pass out any moment.

Ethan took another chair and sat before him, crossing his legs without saying anything. Vincent stood behind him, a little shaken.

’I never thought he’d be like this. No wonder he could defeat everyone I put in Cassandra’s coffee shop.’

Ethan waited patiently until Maxwell recovered enough to speak.

"You... you bastard," He muttered, eyes wide in fear.

Ethan said nothing. He simply stood up and draped the cloth over his head again.

Vincent’s eyes widened as he watched. ’Again...?’

Maxwell began struggling frantically, but it was of no use. Ethan poured some water again, then held his neck tightly, slowly tightening his grip.

What followed was sickening to watch. Maxwell struggled as much as he could until his body started to fail him.

Only then did Ethan release him, allowing him to take a breather.

The young man shivered, his eyes filled with terror as he looked at Ethan. Once he regained his speech, he immediately started talking.

"I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you who sent me."

However, Ethan just shook his head and stood up.

Vincent slowly closed his eyes.

’Round three...’ He thought, shaken.

A few minutes later, Ethan released his grip again and sat in front of Maxwell. The man released broken sobs, his eyes dull.

He didn’t dare look at Ethan, only sobbing and speaking as soon as he could.

"P-please. Let me... sob... let me talk."

Seeing Ethan pick the cloth and stand up again, Vincent immediately held his hand. He pulled back immediately, realizing that Ethan’s body was burning hot.

"Ethan..."

He stopped, then turned to look at Vincent with a dead calm expression. "Yes?"

Vincent cleared his throat and said, "Let him speak."

Ethan shrugged, then sat down again. Maxwell looked at Vincent like he was his savior, then lowered his gaze.

"I... it was Samuel Wayne. He came to me and... he gave me the deal. A hundred thousand dollars just to vandalize a shop."

Clearing his throat with a pained expression, he continued.

"I didn’t know it was someone big like you. I only thought it was someone that offended him and he wanted to give them a scare. I didn’t know it would be you guys. If I had known, I’d have never accepted that deal."

Ethan slowly nodded. "Samuel, huh. I see."

He stood up and stretched his arms with a carefree smile.

"Vincent, you decide what to do with him. Oh, and you should get me another shirt."

He turned to the stoic guy who nodded, then went to get what Ethan had requested.

Giving one last look at the terrified Maxwell, Ethan sighed. "Innocent people like you shouldn’t really be involved in such things."

Then, he turned around and left the basement.

Even after Ethan left, Maxwell didn’t dare raise his head. It wouldn’t be wrong to say he had developed a phobia of Ethan.

Ethan emerged in the bar, and Vincent immediately came to him with a neatly folded shirt.

"Here it is," Vincent said as he passed it to Ethan. "I’ll disband their gang and take control of this region too. I didn’t think a small gang could survive right under my nose."

Ethan chuckled as he wore the shirt. "That’s because you overlooked them. Well, I’ll get going. I still need to prepare dinner, after all."