CHAPTER 168: CHAPTER 168: FIGHTING IS A MAN’S JOB

Quentin Jennings was talking endlessly on the phone, while Desmond Fairchild listened, his gaze never leaving Seraphina Sinclair’s figure for a second.

As Seraphina Sinclair shopped for local specialties, she often glanced towards Desmond Fairchild.

In the exchange of glances, an ambiguous spark floated in the air. Seraphina Sinclair rubbed her nose, somewhat embarrassed, and turned her face away.

Being caught sneaking a look—how awkward.

"Wow, Tate, look over here, there’s a knockout!" The sharp voice of a duck echoed in Seraphina’s ear and she frowned unhappily.

Looking up, she saw two disheveled blondies watching her with sleazy expressions.

Unexpectedly encountering hooligans in a place like this, Seraphina’s face showed impatience as she turned to leave.

However, the two blondies had no intention of letting her go, blocking her way, and the one called Tate eyed her up and down with an indecent look, speaking in a particularly offensive tone: "Miss, traveling alone? How about I guide you and show you around?"

"No need." Seraphina’s expression turned slightly stern as she spoke, then moved past Tate intending to walk towards Desmond Fairchild.

Tate wasn’t about to let her leave, having stumbled upon such a beauty, it would be a pity not to tease her a bit.

The two blondies surrounded Seraphina from front to back, leaving her no chance to escape.

Tate spoke again, his voice laced with impatience: "Miss, we don’t have all day, we just want you to hang with us, don’t be ungrateful."

"Exactly, once we’ve had enough fun, we’ll let you go, you better be smart, or don’t blame us for getting rough," the other blondie chimed in nastily.

The two laughed heartily, confident they had Seraphina in their grasp.

The surrounding people seemed accustomed to such behavior, with many worrying for Seraphina, the outsider, but no one dared step in.

In truth, Seraphina wasn’t afraid of these two small fries; she was here to unwind and didn’t want to cause trouble. If these punks would back off, fine, but they insisted on blocking her path.

Seraphina lowered her head, appearing to have given up resistance, making Tate smugly laugh as he reached out to grab her shoulder: "That’s it, be good and listen to us, we won’t treat you poorly, you just..."

Before the words were finished, a loud thud was heard—the sound of something heavy hitting the ground.

Before Tate’s hand could touch Seraphina, she grabbed it, and with a swift move, executed a perfect over-the-shoulder throw, leaving Tate dizzy.

Her move left the blondies stunned; they were used to being thugs in Huacheng, never having encountered anything like this.

Who would’ve thought a seemingly frail girl, who looked as if a gust of wind could blow her over, would have such skills?

Of course, the daze was short-lived, as Tate and his brother were filled with anger. Seeing the spectators’ eyes filled with anticipation, Tate was burning with rage, feeling utterly humiliated.

Initially, he only wanted to tease Seraphina, but now he genuinely wanted to throw a few punches.

With this in mind, he sprung into action.

Exchanging glances, the brothers ignored their dignity and both charged forward, intent on giving Seraphina a beating.

Everyone thought Seraphina was finished; even with some clever tricks, how could a girl like her possibly win against two grown men?

Many couldn’t bear to watch such a beauty being beaten, so they closed their eyes.

Seraphina took a deep breath, her mind recalling past lessons in fighting techniques, thinking of teaching the two a lesson.

At that moment, Desmond Fairchild’s deep yet gentle voice rang out beside her: "Step back."

"Okay." His voice seemed to have a magical quality, prompting Seraphina to unconsciously step back, leaving the battlefield to the man in front of her.

Desmond Fairchild stood there, his height and aura suffocating the two thugs.

He was on the phone with Quentin Jennings but never took his eyes off Seraphina. In just the fleeting moment of adjusting his clothes, he almost let his woman be endangered.

Well done.

He advanced towards them step by step, his beautiful eyes filled with murderous intent, the aura around him like a reaper from hell, sending a shiver through anyone nearby.

"Tate, why are we afraid of just him?" Blondie shivered, nudging Tate to indicate they shouldn’t fear.

Tate too trembled at Desmond’s sinister expression, shaking his head: "We, we should run."

They wanted to flee, but how could Desmond let them go?

"What? Teased my woman and now want to leave? I fear my fists won’t agree," Desmond’s lips curled wickedly before he disappeared from Seraphina’s sight.

Within moments, the street was filled with cries of agony, lasting a full ten minutes before ending.

"Desmond Fairchild, enough, if you keep beating them, they’ll die," Seraphina had never seen such a violent side of Desmond, looking at the two thugs battered to a pulp, she felt an indescribable emotion.

Was it an illusion or not, she didn’t know, but Desmond was usually fiery towards Quentin and the others, yet the feeling was completely different from before.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different.

Desmond always listened to Seraphina.

Pulling out a scarf to wipe his hands, he walked slowly to Seraphina, speaking with a reproachful tone: "Are you hurt? Why didn’t you run earlier? Next time you face such situations, run immediately, fighting is a man’s task, understand?"

He couldn’t guarantee he’d always be by her side, so if anything slipped, he didn’t want her foolishly pushing herself—if anything happened, neither he nor Jude Sinclair could bear the consequences.

Seeing Desmond’s eyes filled with worry and care warmed Seraphina’s heart: "I’ve trained for several years, dealing with two thugs isn’t a problem."

Earlier, feeling Desmond different from usual must have been just an illusion.

"You’re a woman." Desmond has said this to Seraphina countless times, but she never listened.

It made him feel helpless; every time something happened, she always thought to solve it herself, never considering relying on him. As a man, not being relied upon by his woman felt like failure.

The two left lovingly, leaving behind a stunned crowd and the thug brothers beaten beyond recognition.

"That man is too handsome," the young girls exclaimed with squeals upon coming to their senses.