Minamoto Chisaki's voice came through the receiver, urgent beneath its restraint. "Where are you now? Send me your location. I'll come pick you up immediately—Nippon Stronghold is a pack of desperate criminals. You're far too vulnerable alone."
On the other end of the line, the background was filled with howling wind and the distant, muffled wail of fire engines. Amon spoke with faint amusement. "Danger? How am I supposed to trust you, Director Minamoto? We only arrived yesterday, and today the welcome ceremony has escalated into a targeted elimination. Even if you didn't hand them the knife yourselves, it at least shows that the Eight Clans of the Serpent have been infiltrated badly."
Minamoto Chisaki's grip on the phone tightened slightly. He could not refute it. After a moment of silence, he offered a dry explanation. "—Perhaps the welcome for you was too grand, which broadened the circle of people who knew. That gave them an opening. Personnel of lower status are more easily bribed or controlled."
The explanation made sense logically. Today, the Eight Clans of the Serpent had practically gathered every clan head in humble welcome, which had indeed caused a stir and accelerated the spread of information through different ranks. Under normal circumstances, that would naturally increase the risk of leaks.
But the real situation—this was no longer a matter of leaks. Nippon Stronghold's spy had already become the Patriarch of the Eight Clans of the Serpent!
The busy signal after the call ended flooded Minamoto Chisaki's ears like an icy tide. He slowly handed the phone back to Lu Mingfei. The last trace of color drained from his face, leaving only pallor.
He faced Caesar and the others. The vigilance, suspicion, even hostility in their eyes pricked at him like needles. He took a deep breath