Live stream: Bragging to an orca, exposed by netizens

Su Man was pulled back to reality by Shen Fei, and her face flushed slightly.

The commotion had quieted the entire club down.

The guests who were talking stopped, and everyone's eyes were focused on the corner of the bar.

The sight of Brian being dragged out clearly terrified them.

Just then, three people stood up from the shadows of the booths next to the bar.

They were both around forty years old, wearing well-fitting tailored suits. Unlike Brian, they weren't flamboyant, but they had a very composed aura.

The man in the lead, holding a wine glass, walked leisurely toward the bar with two companions.

Shen Fei glanced at the information James had sent him and it came to mind: David Murray, heir to a large local seafood distributor and a director of the St. John's Chamber of Commerce.

He was one of Shen Fei's targets tonight.

"Good evening," David said, walking up to the bar with a polite smile. "I hope what happened earlier didn't spoil your enjoyment. That idiot Brian always embarrasses us members."

He took the initiative to draw a clear line, adopting a very humble attitude.

Shen Fei didn't reply, but simply picked up his wine glass and gently clinked it against Su Man's.

Seeing this, one of David's companions immediately chimed in:

"To express my apology, and to welcome a new friend, how about tonight's round be on my tab?"

As he spoke, he snapped his fingers at the bartender.

"Open a bottle of Macallan 'Brilliant'."

The bartender paused, looking at him with some surprise.

This wine is the club's prized possession; it's not something you can just drink if you have money—it requires a very high membership level.

"I appreciate the offer," Shen Fei finally spoke, putting down his glass and looking at David. "But I'm used to paying for myself."

He turned to the bartender, his tone indifferent.

"Put their bottle on my tab too."

David's smile froze for a moment.

Soon, the wine was served, its deep liquid swirling in the crystal bottle.

The bartender poured a glass for each of the four people.

"Mr. Murray," Shen Fei raised his glass, "it was a pleasure to meet you in St. John's."

He tilted his head back and downed about two ounces of strong liquor in one gulp, the movement swift and decisive, his face showing little change.

David's expression changed; he hadn't expected the other person to be so direct.

He had no choice but to grit his teeth, raise his glass, and drink it all in one gulp.

A burning sensation rushed into his stomach, causing him to wince involuntarily.

"And this is..." David's companion behind him was about to raise his glass.

Shen Fei poured himself another glass and turned to him.

"And you."

Another cup finished.

His companion's face flushed red instantly. Forced into a corner, he had no choice but to finish the drink, choking and coughing repeatedly.

The third person's face darkened as he watched Shen Fei refill the glass and point it at him.

In an instant, everyone's attention was focused on the bar.

Shen Fei alone made these three people, who were somewhat well-known in the local business community, lose face.

Su Man looked at him nervously, her palms sweating.

After finishing his third drink, Shen Fei casually placed the empty glass on the bar counter.

He looked at the three men, whose faces were ashen, and smiled.

Excuse me for a moment.

After saying that, Shen Fei turned and walked towards the terrace at the back of the club.

Su Man wanted to follow, but Shen Fei stopped her with a look.

He pushed open the heavy glass door, and the cool night breeze blew in, dispelling the smell of alcohol on his body and clearing his head considerably.

The terrace is small, furnished with a few rattan tables and chairs, and offers a panoramic view of the St. John's harbor at night.

Shen Fei leaned against the railing, looking at the lights twinkling on the distant sea.

He wasn't drunk; his body, modified by the dragon bone, could easily neutralize the alcohol, but he didn't like the feeling of being tested.

"Young man, that's not how you drink alcohol."

An old voice sounded from behind.

Shen Fei turned around and saw a thin old man wearing an old-fashioned three-piece suit, who had appeared in the shadows of the terrace at some point.

He leaned on a cane with a silver tip, his hair was snow-white, but his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's.

Arthur Morgan.

The founder of the Navigators' Club and the behind-the-scenes controlling shareholder of Newfoundland Bank.

"That performance was good," Morgan strolled over to Shen Fei and stood beside him, looking at the night view. "But it was boring. Playing this kind of game with those kids is a waste of time."

As he spoke, he gently tapped the ground with his walking stick.

Almost instantly, the club manager burst out of the door, sweating profusely, his posture even more respectful than when he had faced Shen Fei earlier.

"Mr. Morgan!"

Morgan didn't even look at him, his eyes fixed on the distant port.

"Go to the 'Salted Fish' food cart at the pier and buy me a serving of fish and chips, with extra vinegar."

The manager was completely stunned.

Salted fish food trucks are cheap snacks served to dockworkers and tourists.

Ask the manager of the Navigators' Club to buy a street food that costs less than ten yuan?

But he dared not ask, not even a single word.

"Yes, sir! I'll be right there!"

The manager bowed, then turned and ran.

Morgan then turned to Shen Fei, giving him a strange smile.

"Having drunk millions of dollars worth of wine doesn't mean you understand life. But eating a few dollars' worth of fried fish might give you some insight."

He sat down on the wicker chair and began chatting with Shen Fei about the texture of different parts of the cod, just like an ordinary old fisherman.

Not long after, the manager returned, panting, holding a steaming hot paper package wrapped in newspaper.

Morgan took the paper package, opened it skillfully, and a rich aroma of malt vinegar and oil immediately filled the air.

He ignored the knife and fork the manager offered, picked up a piece of golden fried fish with his hand, blew on it, and put it in his mouth.

"Hmm, the oil is very fresh today."

He mumbled something indistinctly, then pushed the newspaper package toward Shen Fei, "Try it, this is the taste of St. John's."

Shen Fei laughed, reached out and picked up a thick French fry, dipped it in vinegar, and put it in his mouth.

Crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside, it tastes really good.

Morgan quickly finished his half, wiped his hands with a napkin, and stood up.

"Young man, you're quite interesting."

He left those words behind, leaned on his walking stick, and slowly walked away from the terrace.

The manager then came over and respectfully handed Shen Fei a bill that was placed on a silver tray.

"Sir, here is your bill."

Shen Fei glanced at it.

Fish and chips: 500 Canadian dollars.

Below is a small note: The product cost is 8 yuan, and the special channel emergency purchase and expedited delivery service fee is 492 yuan.

Shen Fei couldn't help but laugh out loud.

He took out a pen, signed the bill, then turned around, pushed open the door, and walked back into the club's warm and bright lobby.

The atmosphere near the bar was somewhat tense. David and his two companions remained standing in place, as if they had forgotten that they should sit down.

Seeing Shen Fei walk straight toward him, David Murray instinctively straightened up, his eyes no longer filled with arrogance, but only with awe and incomprehension.

Shen Fei looked into his eyes and spoke calmly.

"My animal rescue center needs a CEO."

He paused, then added meaningfully:

"A person who knows when to break the rules and when to eat fish and chips."

"Mr. Murray, are you interested?"