I didn't say anything. I just felt my blood boil. Before he could react, I knocked him down with a direct punch to the face. He staggered, but before he could recover, he was already on the ground, and I was hitting him again, punch after punch.
"If you say that my wife is a snack again, I'll kill you, you bastard! I'll kill you!" I shouted, my voice laden with a rage that seemed uncontrollable.
He tried to fight back, but couldn't. I kept him on the ground, his face already bleeding, and he realized the mistake he made.
I heard footsteps approaching and voices in the background. Other men came to intervene, but no one dared to hold me back. They knew that, in that state, I was unpredictable.
I lowered my fists, panting, and stood up. I ran my hands over my face, trying to pull myself
