On the outskirts of the Griffin Family's stronghold, while Goreinu and the other two were discussing their plans, Nico's phone vibrated.
He glanced down, his brow twitching slightly.
"Message from Dean."
His voice dropped even lower.
"Colton is going to launch an all-out war against the Douglas Family tonight. Vivian is asking if we're willing to assist; the reward will be calculated separately."
Goreinu and Kastro looked at him at the same time.
After two seconds of silence, Goreinu spoke.
"What time?"
"No specific time was mentioned, but it should be tonight."
Nico put his phone away.
"Dean's meaning is for us to decide for ourselves. If we're willing, we can move at any time, and settle the payment afterward."
Goreinu glanced at Kastro.
Kastro didn't hesitate, simply nodding.
"Take it."
Goreinu said.
"Mm, but we don't need to rush to support Colton. Based on the data I've gathered, one night isn't enough to decide the outcome."
"Besides, an all-out clash between two sides is a competition of logistics and financial support; every second burns money. In my opinion, they'll have to stop within two days at most."
Nico analyzed seriously.
Goreinu and Kastro both nodded repeatedly.
Nico's fingers tapped on the keyboard a few times, pulling up the latest surveillance footage of the Griffin Family stronghold.
On the screen, several black trucks were pulling out of the parking lot, driving south along the main road.
"Douglas is mobilizing men."
"This is the perfect chance to take out Griffin as well."
Nico stared at the screen, his speaking speed increasing.
"Griffin's manpower has indeed been drawn away. Looking at this scale, at least a third are gone."
Goreinu raised his binoculars again.
Through the lit windows on the fourth floor, several figures could be seen moving around, but there were far fewer than before.
"Wait."
Goreinu said.
"We'll move once another batch leaves."
Kastro didn't speak, he just stood up from the wall and stretched his wrists.
His joints made a slight clicking sound, which was quickly swallowed by the night wind.
Nico continued to stare at the screen, fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to look up the latest intel at any moment.
In the distance, the Griffin Family stronghold was brightly lit, like a sleeping beast unaware that the Hunters had already reached its doorstep.
Goreinu lowered his binoculars and checked the time on his phone.
8:02 PM. Almost time.
Meanwhile, on the other side.
The Douglas Manor was situated on a hill in the northern suburbs of Goldo City, covering a vast area and surrounded by forest on three sides, with only one road leading down the hill.
The walls were high, topped with barbed wire, and searchlights every few dozen meters illuminated the manor as if it were day.
This was the lair of Belloc Douglas.
He had lived here for twenty years, climbing from the leader of a small gang to his position today; the blood on his hands and the people he had stepped on were beyond counting.
At this moment, he sat at the head of the drawing room, his expression as dark as the sky before a storm.
The drawing room was large, with a crystal chandelier hanging overhead, yet the light couldn't reach the depths of his eyes.
The mahogany long table was polished to a shine, reflecting the patterns on the ceiling.
There were no documents or wine glasses on the table, only his hands folded on the surface, his knuckles thick and covered in calluses.
Three figures stood opposite the long table.
The first was tall with broad shoulders, his bare upper body covered in scars.
A hideous scar ran from his left forehead across his cheek to his jaw, looking as if he had been split open by a knife and then sewn back together.
He stood there with his hands hanging naturally at his sides, radiating an unmasked sense of oppression.
The second person was of medium build, wearing a dark jacket zipped to the top, covering half his face.
Only a pair of grayish-white eyes were visible, his gaze cold and detached.
The third person was shorter and lean, with a hunched back; his fingers were long with protruding knuckles, revealing a blue tattoo on the back of his hand—a string of numbers, the mark of Meteor City.
Belloc's gaze swept over the three of them, expressionless.
He had seen too many mercenaries who talked a big game but ran faster than anyone when it was time to act.
But these three were different—he smelled a familiar scent on them, not of blood or gunpowder, but the kind of thing that could only be ground out after repeatedly rubbing against the edge of death.
"I spent a lot of money to hire you from Meteor City."
His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried an unquestionable pressure.
"I hope your utility lives up to the price. Also, don't think about fishing in troubled waters."
The scarred man—Evan—took a step forward.
His boots stepped on the marble floor, making a dull thud.
"You don't need to worry about that."
His voice was resonant, carrying a confidence that seeped from his bones.
"You'll witness our strength soon enough. The Elder instructed us to follow your orders throughout."
The other two didn't speak, only nodding.
The jacketed man's gaze remained cold, while the lean man's fingers moved slightly, as if he were grasping something.
Belloc stared at them for a few seconds.
People from Meteor City didn't need redundant promises or bluster.
Their names were their reputation.
He snapped his fingers.
A trusted subordinate standing quietly to the side immediately stepped forward, holding a file.
He handed the file to Evan and then retreated to his original position, without making a sound from start to finish.
Belloc leaned back in his chair, tapping his finger lightly on the armrest.
"The targets you are to kill are all in there."
His voice was very calm.
"These few people have caused me great losses. I want them dead."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three faces.
"As long as you deal with them, I will pay you an additional, generous reward."
Evan flipped open the file.
The first page was a photo of a young man with silver hair, wearing a white martial arts uniform.
Below the photo was written the name—Kastro.
The second page was Goreinu, and the third was Nico.
Each page was accompanied by detailed activity logs and their most recent locations.
He read slowly, but he memorized every page.
Then he closed the file and gripped it in his hand.
"Understood."
His voice remained resonant, showing no fluctuation upon seeing the target information.
"We're heading out now."
He turned and walked toward the door.
The jacketed man and the lean man followed behind him, their footsteps light and nearly inaudible.
The three of them crossed the drawing room, pushed open the door, and disappeared into the hallway.
The drawing room fell silent again.
The crystal chandelier was still lit overhead, its light reflecting off the empty long table in a cold white glow.
The black-clad subordinate walked to Belloc's side, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.
"Those three... can they really do it?"
Belloc didn't answer immediately.
He stared at the door that had already closed, silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled, a very cold smile.
"These wild dogs all crawled out of Meteor City."
His voice was very low, as if he were talking to himself.
"People who can survive that kind of place aren't simple characters. Besides—"
He paused, tapping his finger on the armrest again.
"They were recommended by the Meteor City Elder Council. Their strength won't be too weak."
The black-clad subordinate nodded and didn't ask further.
He knew Belloc's personality—he never gave unnecessary explanations and never spoke without certainty.
"Even if they fail, there's no loss to us."
Belloc stood up and adjusted his cuffs.
"Let them try. If they succeed, I have a few fewer troubles. If they don't, it's they who die—just a pack of wild dogs."
He turned and walked deeper into the drawing room.
The sound of his footsteps echoed softly on the marble floor, gradually fading away.
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100 POWER STONE = BONUS CHAPTER
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