"Tch, what a cold-hearted bastard."
Watching the roaring motorcycle speed away without stopping, Locke Te sneered.
Drifting snow settled on his shoulders.
It settled on the tips of his hair.
The bleak, frigid wind brushed across his face, making him shiver instinctively.
The bone-piercing cold made his already uncooperative body even stiffer.
He suddenly realized that the man had been standing upwind the entire time, shielding him from the freezing wind.
His expression calmed.
He lowered his head and looked at the wallet he had thrown onto the ground, at the cards scattered from within it.
He stared at the wallet.
He stared at those beautiful, exquisite cards.
He slowly reached out, hunched over, and crawled to the wallet.
Grasping it, he gathered up the scattered, finely crafted cards.
The howling cold wind and snow grew fiercer, bringing him bone-deep cold.
Clutching the cards in his hand, which were growing colder as well, he raised his head and finally looked toward the shack beside him.
He had been beside this shack all along. When Sot fought De Nock just now, he had deliberately driven De Nock away and had not involved him.
As a result, this low, crude shack had been spared as well.
"Cheap bastard. Lucky you."
He muttered, clutching the cards as he staggered to his feet.
He tried twice, but failed both times.
On the third attempt, he gritted his teeth and finally stood up, squeezing toward the shack's battered Iron Gate.
The Iron Gate was unlocked, and he easily crashed it open.
He staggered and rolled into the room, then raised his head and looked in all directions.
The room was not large, only two or three meters both long and wide, roughly square in shape. Its walls were all made of crude sheet metal.
It