The seemingly sturdy car was blasted straight into the air. Raging flames engulfed its remaining wreckage, and even in the darkness, the thick smoke was clearly visible.
Inside a building on Shirley Street, over a hundred meters from the explosion, Webster lowered his binoculars.
"Is he really a Demon Hunter?"
"Not someone posing as one?"
Webster handed the binoculars to a servant as he spoke, then settled onto the sofa.
Webster no longer had a young man's strength or energy. His hair was gray, his back slightly stooped, and his steps unsteady. Even the cane he carried could not conceal his age-or rather, the cane made him look even older.
"According to the information we've gathered, he should be."
"But how could a real Demon Hunter..."
The servant answered.
However, he broke off before he could finish.
A dark figure appeared soundlessly in the room, blocking the window.
The servants and bodyguards instinctively reached for their guns, but Webster raised a hand to stop them.
"Stop."
"Bring our guest a cup of hot tea."
Webster gave the order as he studied the dark figure before him. Then, seemingly remembering something, the old man looked at the figure again and asked, "Would hot tea be all right? Or would you prefer wine or another drink?"
"Hot tea will be fine."
Qin Ran spoke calmly.
"Please, have a seat."
Webster leaned forward slightly in invitation.
Qin Ran nodded and sat on the sofa.
While they waited for the tea, the two studied each other.
Webster's gaze held curiosity and hesitation.
Qin Ran's remained calm and unreadable.
"Hello, Mr. D."
"This is our first meeting. I'm Webster."
"I hear... you have a new theory about Quick's death?"
Webster opened with a businessman's pleasantries, then, after a brief pause, turned to the matter at