Murphy nodded slightly but said nothing.
Pete turned and hurried into the house. A moment later,
a sturdy, middle-aged man with a short mustache, wearing a shirt and a leather vest, walked out.
He had a rough face and shrewd eyes, with large palms and thick knuckles. This was the boss of this neighborhood, known as "Anvil."
Anvil's gaze locked onto Murphy immediately. After a quick once-over, a warm yet measured smile appeared on his face as he hurried forward to greet him.
"Ah, an honored guest has arrived! Forgive me for not coming out to greet you sooner, forgive me! I'm Anvil. I'm the one looking after this little place for now. My men are ignorant and kept you waiting. Please, come in! Let's talk inside!"
As he spoke, he stepped aside to clear the path, making a welcoming gesture. His posture was very humble.
Murphy calmly strode into the house.
