"No, Mr. Nicholson!" the soldier answered loudly. "Five teams totalling eighty units were deployed for
this operation. None are injured." He gulped nervously. "Any resisting enemy was tied and
apprehended. Some of the enemies are badly hurt. There are no casualties."
Kingsley nodded. "Thank you."
"Of course, Lieu—" He stopped himself before he could finish and quickly said instead, "The teams are
gathered downstairs. The comm… The team leaders will be here shortly."
Even an idiot could see that something was up, let alone people like Frederick and Xanxus. Still,
Xanxus refused to believe this, and he gulped. "Impossible! I have more than thirty men with me, and
they're all armed! They couldn't have gone down that easily!"
Frederick said raspily, "That's right! You're lying! My whole team is armed. There's no way they didn't
go down without a fight." He glanced outside the window. "We're on the second floor, and the window's
open. We would have heard it if you guys were fighting. You're just bluffing. That's a bluff."
The soldier looked back. "Oh, you mean those guys downstairs? They didn't even put up a fight. We
apprehended them easily. See for yourself."
Xanxus and Frederick exchanged looks and went to the window. They didn't believe their best lackeys
would go down without so much as a fight, but when they looked downstairs, they both gasped and
tensed up.
A few dozen hardened young men in white shirts were standing on the plaza downstairs. They were
spread out in five rows while Xanxus' best lackeys were crouched down with hands on their head and
huddled together, shivering in fear. None of them moved, and more importantly, there were only five
men keeping an eye on them.
Frederick trembled in rage and thumped the windowsill. He roared, "Goddammit! There's like eighty of
them, but only five are keeping an eye on them, and they can't even move? F*cking useless!"
Xanxus looked furious and agitated as well. He had spent top dollar hiring a few retired mercenaries to
train his lackeys in marksmanship to create a team of marksmen. Sixty of them emerged triumphant,
and they became the fearsome South Nakson Flashfire. He had sent about two dozen of them to hunt
Serena down, while the rest followed him here. He never expected his elite lackeys to do nothing and
shiver like scared children. He felt something welling in his throat—it was blood. He smashed the glass
window and roared, "What the f*ck are you doing? You're embarrassing me!"
His lackeys looked up at him, scared and horrified.
"You gotta save me, boss!"
"I-I wanna go home!"
A few of the men broke down and cried.
Xanxus spewed out blood for real this time. He never thought his best men would be nothing but
weaklings. The guy turned around slowly and stared at Kingsley in disbelief. "H-How did you do that?
What happened to my men?"
Kingsley smiled. "Why don't you ask them yourself?" He stood up and smoothed out the creases on his
shirt before saying, "Let's go. Take Frederick and Mr. Norton with us."
The soldiers came up to the gang leaders and pinned them both down before they could say anything.
"F*ck! Let me go!" Frederick struggled violently, but his strength was nothing compared to the soldiers.
No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't break free.
Xanxus was a lot calmer compared to him. He said coldly, "I can walk by myself."
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