The location where Weston and his team intended to film was quite remote, so they would not head
there unless absolutely necessary.
Weston's trip into the city this time was to pick up Donald to ensure that the latter would not get lost on
his way to the set.
However, despite waiting at the agreed-upon hotel for a long time, Donald still had not shown up.
“You mentioned that our set is quite remote, Mr. Tanner. Do you think Mr. Campbell would be able to
adapt to the place?”
Drogo Zapata, Weston's assistant, was seated on the couch, gazing toward the hotel entrance, looking
slightly worried.
Though he had never met Donald, the mere thought of the latter being a CEO drew him toward the
conclusion of how pampered and privileged such a man would be once he ventured into the
countryside.
Weston frowned. “I can't speak for others, but I don't think Mr. Campbell will have a problem with it.
He's not the type of leader who couldn't bear to get his hands dirty. You'll understand when you meet
him.”
In truth, Weston wanted to tell Drogo that Donald was a formidable character, especially how he looked
like a Stella Warrior when he puts other bosses in their place.
Upon second thought, however, it occurred to him that Donald had been able to put those wealthy
people in their place because of the powerful backing provided by Dragon Fide Corporation.
Once he ventured into the remote regions, Donald would be forced to confront harsh conditions and
unexpected obstacles.
In light of that thought, Weston suddenly realized that Donald's identity and background would not
matter much, and he became unsure about how long Donald could bear it. Thus, all he could say was
that Donald was a different kind of employer.
“Listen, Mr. Tanner, I don't care what kind of person your boss is. I just want to remind you that if we
don't get in the car in the next fifteen minutes, we won't be able to get back today.”
Sitting across from Weston was a man, roughly in his early fifties.
The old man was dressed in a cotton-padded jacket with a dagger tucked at his hip.
To Weston and his companions, his attire seemed extremely peculiar. To the locals, however, it
represented a presence not to be trifled with.
It pointed to the indication that the old man was a hunter whose hands have been stained with blood.
“Please bear with us a little longer, Mr. Hackett. We will cover the hotel expenses if we can't make it
back today.”
Adler Hackett stared at Weston. “I don't want to stay in your hotel,” he scoffed. “My own tent is far more
comfortable. I'll be heading home if your boss doesn't show up soon. I can't be away from my family for
too long.”
Though Weston harbored his own opinions about Weston's proclamation, he found it difficult to voice
them.
Adler was the local guide they hired. He was reputed to be the best one in the area.
If it were not for the fact that Ronson and Adler got along well, Adler would never have agreed to act as
their guide.
Just as Weston was contemplating if he should give Donald another call, the latter appeared at the
hotel entrance.
“Over here, Mr. Campbell.”
Weston stood up and waved at Donald with great excitement.
Now that Donald is here, we can stick to the plan.
Initially, Adler did not think highly of a boss like Donald, but from the moment he laid eyes on the latter,
he tensed up at once.
“Mr. Hackett, this is our CEO, Mr. Donald Campbell. Mr. Campbell, this is our guide, Mr. Adler Hackett.”
Donald inclined his head.
Interestingly, Adler appeared somewhat ill at ease, much like a primary school student becomes upon
seeing his teacher.
“What's wrong, Mr. Hackett? Are you feeling unwell?”
Seeing Adler so anxious made Weston wonder if he was sick.
To his great surprise, Adler suddenly knelt before Donald and prostrated himself humbly.
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