My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 62 The Final Performance

At this moment, the atmosphere inside the Zhongnan Gymnasium remained enthusiastic.

The clamor for an encore gradually subsided, and the music king in white had already left the stage.

A bulky, flamboyantly dressed fat man stood in the center of the stage.

Colonel Parker stood in front of the microphone, clutching his gold-plated cane, his fat face trembling slightly with excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen! What a wonderful night!" The rousing voices echoed throughout the stadium, stirring the emotions of everyone present.

"Tonight, Elvis made a great decision. To help those who lost their homes in the floods, he will donate all the profits from this concert!"

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience, and countless viewers were moved to tears by their idol's act of kindness.

Parker basked in the thunderous applause, as if the cheers were dedicated to him.

That's right, Elvis donated his profits, but what about the 50% agent commission?

That's the reward I deserve for my hard work.

After all, planning this performance, contacting satellite broadcasters, and dealing with those sponsors—weren't all of these paving the way for this silly boy's reputation?

I feel perfectly justified in taking this money.

What's even more impressive is that just now, the latest viewership data came in from the backstage – the number of viewers for the satellite broadcast has surpassed that of "Hello Hawaii" not long ago.

This means that in addition to the basic broadcasting fees, he will also receive an astronomical amount of GG revenue sharing.

In addition, there were the large tax refunds and subsidies fraudulently obtained from the state government under the guise of "charity"...

Parker's small eyes narrowed into slits behind his sunglasses as he struggled to keep his laughter from becoming too unrestrained.

With this money, he could comfortably enjoy imperial treatment on the top floor of Caesars Palace for a few more months.

"For love, for peace!"

Parker spread his arms wide, like a devout pastor preaching, trying to get everyone in the room to donate again.

Suddenly, "Whoosh—whoosh—!!!"

A piercing siren could be faintly heard coming from outside the stadium, causing a stir in the audience.

Parker looked angrily toward the stadium entrance: Which clueless bastard sheriff is this? Doesn't he know this is being broadcast globally?

However, the next second, he couldn't laugh anymore.

"Bang!" The VIP entrance door was kicked open, and a group of people filed in.

It wasn't a local sheriff, but a federal agent in a dark blue trench coat with a stern expression.

They ignored the security personnel at the venue, pushed through the crowd, and rushed onto the stage.

The captain in charge pulled out his badge and flashed it in front of Parker; the golden badge stung his eyes.

FBI, and Instagram!

Even at the very end of the line, he spotted several Interpol agents!

"What's going on? What are you trying to do?" Parker roared, his voice trembling with fear. "I'm Colonel Parker! A friend of President Lyndon! This is an invasion—"

"Shut up, Andreas!"

The captain interrupted his roar without hesitation, uttering the name he had buried for over forty years.

The name struck like a bolt from the blue, instantly shattering all of Parker's confidence.

His obese body trembled violently, and the gold-inlaid cane in his hand clattered to the ground on the stage.

It's over, it's over!

"You have been formally arrested on suspicion of illegal entry, identity fraud, and a murder in Breda, Netherlands."

Two detectives rushed forward and roughly twisted his hands behind his back.

With a "click," the cold handcuffs locked the hands that had just been asking for donations.

This scene was broadcast around the world via cameras around the stage.

In the first row of the audience, Lorna Barrett, like a hunter who had been waiting for a long time, suddenly stood up and started snapping photos with her camera that she had prepared for a long time.

"Snap! Snap! Snap!"

The flashbulbs went off wildly, freezing Parker's fat face, etched with terror, despair, and utter disarray, onto the film.

This is the "Pritz moment" she wanted!

After taking all the photos, Luo Na put down her camera and gave a slight smile to the live stream camera in front of her.

On Santa Monica Beach, the audience, still savoring Elvis Presley's songs, went wild!

On the projection screen, the image of Parker being escorted off the stage appeared so absurd.

"My God! What happened?"

"Isn't that Elvis's manager? Did he kill someone?"

"A Dutchman? Isn't he an American colonel?"

The gasps of surprise from the crowd grew louder and louder; this real-life plot twist was far more thrilling than any movie!

Qin Han glanced at the familiar smile that flashed across the screen and secretly praised, "Well done."

In this way, the king of music who shines brightly on the stage will soon find that he is free.

Given Lorna's status, she would definitely be able to contact him immediately.

"Let's go," Qin Han said to his friends who had come to cheer him on. "The show's over, it's time for us to go home."

……

Fred drove the car full of people toward West Hollywood.

Although they were physically tired, everyone's spirits remained very high.

Andrew Morgan went on and on about every detail of the night, from Qin Han's incredible kick to Elvis's time-traveling connection, and finally the dramatic capture.

"Qin, I bet tomorrow's newspaper will sell out!"

Bruce Lee wore a relaxed smile: "Han, that was a really good kick tonight!"

"Alright, gentlemen, we've arrived!" The Bentley slowly drove into the block, and Fred honked the horn, smiling at everyone.

As soon as he got out of the car, Qin Han's gaze was drawn to the villa's gate—where a red Cadillac Eldorado was parked quietly.

Beside the car, a man in a floral shirt was pacing anxiously back and forth, with cigarette butts scattered all over the ground.

It was Chen Bing, the infamous "Tiger" of Chinatown.

He had already heard the noise when the car came to a complete stop and suddenly looked up.

Upon seeing Qin Han and Bruce Lee get out of the car, this "tiger" who was used to bullying others in Chinatown quickly sidled up to them.

"Boss Chen," Qin Han stepped forward, greeting him as if he were an old neighbor, "Standing here in the wind so late?"

"Mr. Qin! Mr. Li!"

Chen Bing threw away his cigarette butt, his face plastered with a fawning smile: "I'm so sorry to bother you so late. I... I'm here to deliver a car."

He patted the flawless red Cadillac behind him, then pulled out the keys and handed them over with both hands.

"If I hadn't seen you on TV... it would have taken me a long time to find out you'd moved here."

Qin Han didn't take the key; he just watched him quietly.

Chen Bing gritted his teeth, pulled a crumpled IOU from his pocket, and stated his purpose: "That $80,000..."

"Our boss said he'll waive the interest, he only wants to repay the principal!"

"However, he hopes to find an opportunity to visit you. I wonder if you two would do him the honor?"