My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 64 Future Plans

This was a terrible night for Elvis Presley.

At this moment, he was sitting in the "Jungle Room" of Yayuan, with more than a dozen morning newspapers on the coffee table in front of him—without exception, the front page headlines were all about the explosive news from last night.

The person who started all of this is sitting across from him, holding a cup of hot coffee.

"Have a drink, Elvis." Lorna's voice was completely devoid of its usual sharpness, instead carrying the gentleness of someone with experience in the industry: "I didn't add sugar; you need to sober up."

Elvis raised his head, his eyes, which had captivated women worldwide, now bloodshot and puffy.

He took the coffee, holding the cup tightly in both hands, trying to draw some warmth from it.

"Lorna... tell me, is all of this true? The guy who turned me from a truck driver into 'Elvis' was really a wanted criminal without a passport?"

"Facts speak louder than words. He was taken away by federal agents last night." Lorna pulled a document from her handbag; it was Parker's true identity file.

Elvis Presley trembled as he flipped through the papers, his despair growing with each page he read.

He slammed the file on the coffee table: "Damn it!"

"No wonder that not long ago, when I was all set to go to Japan for a concert, he burst into my room in the middle of the night and frantically tried to stop me!"

"He said it wasn't safe abroad, that only America was his home... and finally changed the location to Hawaii!"

Although "Hello Hawaii" was an unprecedented success, it remained a thorn in Elvis's side.

He wanted to see the outside world, to go to London, to Tokyo, to Paris.

It turns out that all of this was simply because the vampire didn't have a passport and couldn't leave the country!

"He broke your wings for ten whole years," Lorna added, delivering the final blow.

Elvis raised his head, a tear sliding down his cheek. The pain of being betrayed by his closest loved ones was more devastating to him than losing his money.

"Am I...free now?" His eyes were vacant, and his face showed a hint of confusion and helplessness.

"But what am I going to do? What about the upcoming tour? The band, the backup singers, the bodyguards... hundreds of people are counting on me for their livelihood."

When people who are used to being controlled suddenly gain freedom, their first reaction is often not joy, but fear of the unknown.

Lorna stared intently at Elvis: "Elvis, do you think the evidence that would put him in jail for life fell from the sky? You were able to do all this because someone was helping you!"

Elvis was still in shock: "You mean...?"

"Do you remember that ring match before the concert started?" Lorna no longer hid: "It was Mr. Qin Han who used his connections in Washington to get rid of this cancer for you."

Elvis imagined the Asian man in the ring, wearing a yellow suit, kicking his opponent away.

That powerful sense of strength...

But soon, the cold reality surrounded him again: Parker had accumulated a lot of debt in Las Vegas!

Those Mafia members are ruthless monsters who devour people without spitting out the bones.

He's my agent, and those people will definitely hold me accountable!

Elvis clutched his hair in despair: "Lorna, Parker owes the casino a huge debt... Even if I sing until I die, I probably still won't be able to pay off those loan sharks."

"You don't need to worry about that either." Lorna smiled slightly, her confident demeanor giving Elvis a sense of inexplicable peace.

"Mr. Qin asked me to tell you: Parker's debt is Parker's problem. Han's Film Studios has already 'made arrangements' with the people in Las Vegas through Washington."

Elvis's eyes widened and his mouth slightly agape.

What makes those bloodthirsty sharks shut up? Just who is this Qin Han?

Lorna stood up, straightened her skirt, and glanced at the gold watch on her wrist. "Alright, Elvis. I have to go. You'd better get some sleep."

"Wait! Lorna!" Elvis stood up from the sofa. "What does Mr. Qin from Han's Film Company need me to do? I mean, he's done me such a big favor..."

Lorna stopped and looked at the superstar: "Mr. Qin said that what you need most right now is not work, but to find yourself again."

Elvis fell silent.

He looked around the luxurious yet cold mansion, thinking of his wife Priscilla, with whom he had separated and was preparing to file for divorce, and his infant daughter.

"I want to... take a break for a while."

He muttered to himself, "I'm not going to Las Vegas anymore, and I don't want to tour anymore. I want to go to Hawaii, with Priscilla and Lisa, and I want to... try to win back my family."

"I'm so tired……"

Lorna nodded: "A wise choice. Only by mending your body and soul can you sing more beautifully. Go and enjoy your vacation."

Even after Lorna's figure disappeared at the gate of Ya Garden, Elvis remained standing there, motionless for a long time.

"Han's Film Industry... Qin Han..."

"Lorna, please thank Mr. Qin for me."

……

At the same time, in Las Vegas, Nevada.

In a private conference room on the top floor of Caesars Palace Casino, several elderly men in suits with gloomy expressions sat around a round table.

"Bang!" A large hand slammed onto the table. "Two million US dollars! That fat bastard owes us a whole two million!"

The speaker was Carmen, the godfather of the Luciano family: "Now that the person has been taken away by the FBI, they're going to be deported? Who's going to pay this money? Are they going to ask the Dutch government?"

"More importantly, our cash cow is gone!"

Casinos need the traffic brought by these top stars. Without Elvis Presley, the number of visitors will drop by at least 10% or 20%.

"I've found out. It's a company called Hans who's behind this." Another godfather's eyes flashed with a fierce light: "A ignorant, arrogant yellow-skinned monkey dares to cut off our source of income?"

"Isn't he supposed to be a great fighter? Send a few men to Los Angeles, cripple his legs, and show him that Las Vegas is not a place he can mess with."

Just as the godfathers were discussing the matter, the conference room door was suddenly kicked open.

"Boss... Boss, something bad has happened!" the henchman stammered as he entered. "There... there's someone outside..."

Before he could finish speaking, a man wearing a gray trench coat and gold-rimmed glasses swaggered in.

He looked refined and unassuming, completely out of place in this murderous conference room.

"Who let you in? Are you looking to die?" Carmen looked like she was about to devour someone.

The bespectacled man snorted and pulled a small black notebook from his pocket: "Let me introduce myself. I am the Pentagon's legal counsel. You can call me Link."

The cover of the notebook bears the emblem of the U.S. Department of Defense and a line of small, gold-embossed text: Office of the Special Counsel of the Pentagon.

"Godfathers, I've heard you have some...unique ideas about Colonel Parker's debts?"

The bespectacled man pulled out a chair and sat down without a second thought.

"The Pentagon asked me to pass on a message: Colonel Parker is an illegal immigrant, and all his debts are illegally obtained and not protected by law. As for Mr. Elvis Presley..."

"He is a national asset and an artist who needs protection. The Pentagon does not want to hear of him being harassed in any way while on leave."

"Of course, if you insist on taking action, then next time it won't be me, but my colleagues from the IRS and the National Counterterrorism Service."

The conference room fell into a deathly silence.