Splash, splash.
The fresh scent of seawater and air greeted them. The beach shore in the morning light was quiet and deserted.
Only faintly rippling turquoise waves washed against the coast, while the cries of seagulls replaced the crowing of roosters, barking of dogs, or the clamor of city traffic.
They became the symbol of a new day arriving on Sea Island.
Then, in the public lounge of the pure white villa's main building,
Fang Ran looked at the enormous living room, its interior ceiling stretching more than twenty meters high all the way to the roof of the third floor, and the pricey furnishings whose names he did not recognize but which were all luxury brands.
Through the glass walls, the place revealed a style and taste somewhat similar to the Night Bureau's.
He sprawled lazily across a round table on the second floor that overlooked the shore directly, his dead-fish eyes sweeping from left to right as he examined this villa—a place an ordinary person might need several lifetimes to afford.
For who knew how many times, he sighed.
Having money was great.
The sound of waves drifted in with the gentle sea breeze. After enjoying a luxurious breakfast prepared by the young master's team of chefs,
everyone from the Night Bureau was now seated here.
After two leisurely days of vacationing on Sea Island, everyone had played to their hearts' content and was somewhat tired. They now stayed inside the villa, enjoying the coolness from the central air conditioning.
Only two days remained until the National War began, and the preliminary preparations had entered their implementation phase.
The Night Bureau members were discussing specific details regarding the National War, such as battle arrangements.
A scattered yet loosely circular arrangement of sofas and coffee tables filled the room.