On the national highway beneath the night sky.
Several black SUVs sped toward Feng City.
The middle SUV's front passenger, a middle-aged man in a leather jacket with a scar on his cheek, stared down at a tablet, his fingers swiping rapidly across the screen.
"Boss." He turned toward the person in the back seat. "The goods we're selling this time... we're getting rid of all eight tokens?"
A young man who looked to be in his early thirties sat in the back.
He wore a simple black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing an old-fashioned mechanical watch on his wrist.
He had his eyes closed, dozing. At the question, he gave a quiet hum.
"But right now..." Scarface hesitated. "We still have quite a few brothers waiting."
The young man slowly opened his eyes.
The streetlights outside flashed across his face as they streaked by.
"We have enough people for now. The market's good, so let's cash out and trade for resources for the brothers who qualify."
He paused, then added, "Once we're stronger, will we really have trouble getting more tokens?"
Scarface smacked his lips. "True... Back when we were tomb raiders, we'd risk our lives on every job and still earn less than a fraction of what one ticket's worth this time."
The car fell quiet.
After a while, a lean man on the other side of the back seat suddenly spoke up.
"Boss... are we really just going to let what happened to Lord Qian go?"
At the mention of Qian Laojiu, the atmosphere in the car grew noticeably tense.
Scarface's brow immediately furrowed, a flash of viciousness in his eyes. "Let it go? No way. The Old Nine Gates have a rule: anyone who lays a hand on one of ours pays