Chapter 122 Shattering Bottle

Under the light, people were drinking and drinking, and the music had changed several styles tirelessly. Logan finished cleaning a set of glassware and exhaled, "Luke, I'm done for the day."

Luke was playing with his cell phone at this time. He looked at the time and was about to nod when he noticed a customer in the lounge area raising a hand, so he said shamelessly, "Logan, can you handle that? I'll go inform the manager about the shift change."

Logan smiled and didn't mind Luke's laziness. As he walked halfway, hurried footsteps suddenly approached from behind. It was the manager. The other party was running past him. Logan wanted to greet him, but the manager didn't seem to see him, and headed straight out of the bar drenched in sweat.

Logan found this odd. When he returned to the guest's seat with the water, wine and fruit plate, the bar door swung open, and about a dozen men stormed in, all exuding a menacing aura. The manager smiled apologetically at a well-dressed man at the front.

Coincidentally, the DJ on stage hyped up the crowd with, "Ladies and gentlemen, let's give the stage for XX singer XX! Let's start the final party of the night~~"

The lights flickered chaotically, and the wave of cheers and whistles reached a fever pitch. Even though Logan had adapted to it after so many days, he couldn't help but frown at this moment. The people who just came, illuminated by the strobing lights, looked like a group of shifting mosaics.

"It seems this place has been doing well these past years..."

"Not at all, it's all thanks to you and your men gracing us with your presence, Mr. Light..."

As the intense light show subsided, the group was already being led upstairs to a private room, leaving four tattooed men in the hallway. Logan shrugged and only heard snippets of the conversation. It was clear some big shot had arrived.

After attending to the customer, Logan prepared to change out of his uniform and leave.

"That girl looks nice."

"Oh, she seems like an office lady. She's in for a treat tonight."

As he walked by, the four tattooed men on the first floor, after scanning the area superficially, began behaving improperly. Two of them downed drinks and then, arms draped around each other, headed towards the woman at table C4.

Logan paused for a moment, then stopped and looked back. The table was strewn with empty bottles, and the office lady was completely unconscious. Her makeup was smeared by either tears or spilled alcohol, revealing a tired yet delicate face.

After bumping into Logan twice, the two tattooed men bypassed him, laughing, and approached the office lady.

"Hey there, little miss. Why are you drinking alone?"

"Yeah, what's got you down? Tell us, and maybe we can cheer you up."

"Who... are you…"

The office lady had a shred of consciousness left, but her body was too weak from the alcohol. The two men, speaking flirtatiously, sat on either side of her very familiarly, as if they were old friends who had just run into her.

"How about we take you somewhere else for a bit of fun?"

"Go away...I don't know you..."

The music was deafening, and Logan looked around. Well-dressed people were shouting towards the stage, completely engrossed in the performance. Just a few meters away, no one noticed the impending tragedy in the corner.

Logan waved the empty wooden tray to fan the stifling air. He stood still for a couple of seconds, his mind clear and detached from the chaotic surroundings.

"An exemplary modern Ninja..." After sighing, Logan's expression slowly calmed down and he smiled.

"Ma'am, do you need any help?"

The two tattooed men were about to start groping the woman, but as they were about to get more aggressive, a young man's voice interrupted them.

"Boy, this has nothing to do with you. Get lost." The tattooed man was very unhappy that his good times were interrupted. Seeing that the young man was just a bar waiter, he waved dismissively as if shooing away a fly.

"Sorry to intrude." Logan said, noting the plea for help in the office lady's eyes. He then discreetly winked at her, "I'll put away these empty bottles first."

The two tattooed men were forced to wait. Their boss was upstairs, and while the ownership of the bar could change overnight with a single word, maintaining order was still crucial. Playing with women was fine as long as it was consensual, but they were crossing a line right now.

With little time to think of a clever solution, Logan casually picked up a half-full bottle of beer and asked, "Do you still need this one?"

"Fuck, you pretty boy. You don't look like a man, and you talk like a wimp. No, we don't need it..."

The impatient tattooed man's words were cut off by a sudden, passionate high note from a guest singer on the stage.

"Oh oh--"

The beer began to froth and churn violently inside the bottle, spinning furiously beneath the label. In an instant, it reached its breaking point.

"Bang!"

The yellow bottle shattered, sending shards of glass and foam flying, eliciting screams from the women nearby.

"Ah, my eyes!"

"Wow, what happened? How did the bottle just break like that?"

"Fuck, boy, you little..."

The corner of the lounge descended into chaos. The high note from the male singer had drawn the attention of staff and the bar's bouncers.

"Sorry, sorry, this is really unscientific."

"Unscientific my ass! You're dead!"

One of the tattooed men, now covered in beer and glass shards, looked utterly miserable. He clutched his left eye, blood pouring from it, screaming in agony.

The other tattooed man was taken aback by the sudden turn of events. His face was splattered with foam, and a glass shard had left a thin cut from which blood began to flow. Realizing what had happened, he instinctively cursed and swung his thick arm toward the waiter in front of him.

The waiter, appearing frightened, dodged the grasp, and started speaking frantically.

To be honest, the tattooed man was also puzzled as to why the beer bottle had shattered so suddenly. He understood that a high decibel sound could break glass, but it hadn't been a dolphin note just now. Moreover, helping his brother regain the stage was his first priority. He couldn't exactly shove through the crowd, dash across dozens of meters, and punch the singer on stage, could he?

Regardless, the immediate solution was to hit first and ask questions later. He lunged at the waiter, who, seemingly rattled by the chain of events, fumbled. The empty bottle he had been holding suddenly slipped and shattered on the ground. The burly man's extended fist crashed through the shards, resulting in several deep cuts.