Of course. Here is the English translation of the provided text.
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13 Different Davins
Davin let out a sigh of relief as he finally exited the Laguna Group building.
The long day, full of family and business drama, was finally over. He knew Vania had gone home earlier, so he decided to head straight back. Right now, he was enjoying the silence and time for himself behind the wheel of his new Toyota Kijang Innova. The streets were growing quiet, illuminated only by the yellow streetlights.
However, the tranquility didn't last long.
In his rearview mirror, a dark black car with no license plate was following him too closely.
At first, Davin thought it was just a coincidence, but the car kept making suspicious maneuvers, getting close, then falling back, as if it was tailing him. The instinct honed since childhood immediately kicked in. This was no coincidence.
Calmly, Davin chose to turn onto a smaller, quieter, darker road leading to an industrial area that was closed at this hour. He wanted to see if the car was still following him, while also moving any potential danger away from a crowded area.
Just as he suspected. The black car turned to follow him, and this time, it accelerated aggressively and cut him off, forcing Davin to slam on his brakes. His tires screeched on the deserted asphalt.
Before the dust could settle, five large, burly men—their muscles bulging like rocks from hard gym training—jumped out of the car.
Their faces were filled with the blank stares of hired thugs, emotionless, focused only on the task. Four of them immediately surrounded Davin's car, while the fifth, who looked the youngest, stood slightly apart with his phone raised, recording.
One of the thugs, the biggest one, brutally banged on Davin's car window. "Get out, you bastard! Don't waste our time!" he yelled, his voice hoarse and full of threat.
Davin took a deep breath. It wasn't a breath of fear, but the breath of someone tired of dealing with something that shouldn't be necessary.
Three years.
For three long years, he had restrained himself, hiding all his abilities and background, pretending to be a weak and timid man. But tonight, that choice was gone.
With a calm movement, he opened the car door and stepped out. His slim, ordinary-looking frame was immediately overshadowed by the four hulking bodies.
"What do you want?" asked Davin, his voice flat, almost uninterested.
"We want you, you son of a bitch!" snarled the big thug, and without further ado, he threw a crude punch straight at Davin's head.
It was a punch that could break an ordinary man's jaw.
But Davin was no ordinary man.
Since the age of six, his life had been filled with iron discipline. His master was no ordinary trainer. He was Master Chen, a legend in internal martial arts, an old man who had chosen to serve as the personal protector of the Tanjaya family. Master Chen didn't just teach moves; he instilled philosophy, speed, precision, and the efficiency of lethal movements. Every day, before school, Davin would spend two hours practicing these deadly techniques.
The big thug's punch, to him, looked slow and very easy to read.
With a movement that was almost invisible, Davin's body spun like the wind. He didn't dodge, but instead moved in, slipping under the arm that was trying to punch him. His seemingly ordinary hand suddenly transformed into a steel claw. He grabbed the thug's wrist and applied precise, deadly pressure.
Crack!
The sound of a breaking wrist bone echoed in the quiet street.
"Aarrgghh!" The big thug screamed in pain, clutching his now-mangled hand.
The other three thugs were shocked, but immediately attacked together. One tried to kick from the side, one tried to grab him in a chokehold from behind, and the other threw a punch aimed at his solar plexus.
Davin was like a shadow dancer in the dark. He bent, avoiding the kick, while his other hand deflected the punch to his solar plexus with his palm.
Tok!
A hard sound, and that thug cried out in pain, his fingers likely broken from hitting bone and muscle conditioned like steel through over a decade of training.
The thug who tried to choke him from behind suddenly found his arm locked. Davin, without looking back, already knew his move. With a brutal hip thrust and pull, he slammed the thug over his shoulder and smashed him hard onto the asphalt. Bruk! The thug lay there, unable to move, his breath ragged.
Only one thug remained standing. His eyes were wide with fear. He had witnessed his three burly comrades being disabled in a matter of seconds by the man who was supposedly "timid" and "weak." He retreated in fear, but Davin was already in front of him.
Davin didn't give him a chance. A fast, low, deadly kick slammed into the thug's knee.
Crack!
Again, the sound of breaking bone. The thug collapsed, screaming in pain.
The entire fight probably lasted less than twenty seconds. Four trained hired thugs lay on the ground, groaning in pain, with broken arms, fingers, and knees.
Now, Davin stared at the fifth man. The young man holding the phone, his face pale with fear, his body trembling uncontrollably. The recording that was supposed to be evidence of their brutality against Davin had instead become a witness to how brutally Davin had dealt with them and how easily they were destroyed.
Davin stepped closer. Each step made the cameraman tremble more.
"Please... don't..." he begged, his voice shaking.
Davin easily grabbed the hand holding the phone. "Who sent you?" he asked, his voice low and cold, full of an authority no one had ever seen from him.
The man, scared out of his wits, immediately spilled. "V-Victor! Our boss, Victor! He gave the order! But... but he got the order from Kevin Santosa! He said the pay was good! That's all, I was just told to record! I didn't join the fight!"
Davin took the phone. His eyes looked at the screen, as if staring directly through the camera lens at the person watching on the other end.
His usually calm and plain face was now filled with an aura of darkness and cold anger. He spoke directly into the camera, his voice vibrating with restrained fury that sounded terrifying.
"Kevin," he uttered, each word like a cold dagger. "You think this is a game, huh? You send these small-time lackeys to bother me? You've picked the wrong guy."
He paused for a moment, his eyes blazing with an undeniable threat.
"If you really want to deal with me, then we will deal. But don't play games from behind the scenes. Face me directly. And remember this well, Kevin. What you just witnessed... this is nothing. This is just a warning. Touch me or Vania again, and I won't be this nice next time. I will destroy you. Not just your career, but everything you have. Believe me."
After delivering his threat, Davin tossed the phone back to the terrified thug. "Take this back to Victor. And tell him, if he wants to keep eating well, he should never come near me or my people again."
Without a backward glance at the four groaning thugs, Davin got back into his car, started the engine, and drove slowly away from the scene, leaving destruction and fear behind him.
He was back to being the "usual Davin," but tonight, that mask had almost slipped. And Kevin, on the other end, was about to realize he had awakened a sleeping lion.
---
In a luxurious apartment, Kevin Santosa was sitting restlessly. He kept checking his phone, waiting for the video from Victor. The thought of Davin being beaten, humiliated, and screaming in pain excited him. Finally, his petty revenge would be fulfilled.
Bling!
His phone chimed. A message from an unknown number. A video attachment. His heart pounded with anticipation. He opened it immediately.
The start of the video showed his four burly thugs approaching Davin's car. He smiled with satisfaction. But then, the smile slowly disappeared, replaced by confusion, then by a growing, overwhelming fear.
He watched as Davin, with swift, deadly movements, disabled the four thugs one by one. The sounds of breaking bones and screams of pain made him shiver. This was not a video of an assault. It was a video of a massacre.
Then, the camera shook, and Davin's face appeared, large, staring directly into the lens.
Davin's eyes, which were usually downcast, now looked sharp, cold, and full of deadly threat. Kevin could feel every word of Davin's threat piercing directly into his soul, freezing him solid.
"...We will deal. But don't play games from behind the scenes..."
"...I will destroy you. Not just your career, but everything you have. Believe me."
The video ended. Kevin's phone fell from his trembling hand. His face was deathly pale, covered in a cold sweat. His body shook violently.
He had not misheard. That was Davin's voice. That was Davin's threat.
But... that was not the Davin he knew. That was someone completely different. Someone dangerous. Extremely dangerous.
For the first time in his life, Kevin Santosa felt a deep, pure, unadulterated fear. And that fear came from the man he had always called a "pauper son-in-law" and a "low-life."