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Chapter 974: Chapter 974 Burning Newspapers
Gonzalez City at night.
The spring breeze brushed the face, everywhere was bursting with green vitality.
Gonzalez City, being by the sea, always had a warm and humid climate.
So much so that the moment Quella Radcliffe stepped out of the airport, she immediately felt the long-missed aura of her hometown.
The scent of the sea.
Even though the nearest wharf was still tens of kilometers away.
"Anna, how come you suddenly decided to visit the capital?"
Quella Radcliffe, arm in arm with Anna Harris, voiced her concern with worry, "We should’ve enjoyed a few days of fun. But with the situation at home, I just couldn’t..."
Thinking of Burl Radcliffe in Gonzalez City Central Hospital made her anxious.
Rushed.
Even though the incident involving Zade Radcliffe was still fresh in her memory, this time, it was her own father!
She would’ve preferred the sickness to be false.
At least Burl Radcliffe could be healthy and well.
"Don’t worry!"
Anna Harris smiled reassuringly, "Uncle will be fine. I was just bored and thought to surprise you by coming to the capital. Who knew something like this would happen..."
"It’s okay, according to what my mom said, Dad seems to be out of danger."
Quella Radcliffe managed a weak smile as she quickly walked out of the airport.
"Sister-in-law!"
As soon as they descended the steps, they saw Aron Jackson in a white suit, smiling and approaching them.
"Aron Jackson, what are you doing here?"
Quella Radcliffe was a bit taken aback upon seeing him.
Then she realized, "Julius sent you, didn’t he?"
She and Julius Reed had talked on the phone; otherwise, Aron Jackson wouldn’t have known to come.
"Exactly!"
Aron Jackson walked towards a Maybach, gently opening the car door, "Sister-in-law, please!"
"Let’s go, Anna."
Quella Radcliffe, bringing Anna Harris along, took a seat in the rear of the sedan, nodding in appreciation, "Thank you for your troubles."
"It’s what I should do!"
Whoosh!
The car door closed.
Aron Jackson took the passenger seat, turned his head back, and asked, "Is Brother Davenport doing alright in the capital?"
"Yes."
Quella Radcliffe nodded without saying much else.
Her mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of her father.
Real or not, she wanted to see for herself.
"Head to the Central Hospital, and make it quick."
Aron Jackson turned around and commanded in a deep voice.
"Understood!"
The driver started the sedan, which took off into the night, headed for Gonzalez City Central Hospital.
After their departure, a middle-aged man with a butcher’s knife tucked at his waist emerged from the woods outside the airport.
Between his fingers, he held a dry cigarette.
"Hiss..."
He took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke.
"How about that, quite strong, isn’t it!"
A man in black stepped out from behind him.
The man wore black gloves and also had a dry cigarette between his fingers.
"Who would’ve thought I’d learn to smoke at my age," Brysen Beaumont shook his head with a wry smile. "Devlin, you really are a son of a bitch!"
After saying this, he couldn’t help but take another drag.
"Cough cough..."
A harsh coughing fit erupted from Brysen Beaumont’s throat.
He seemed to be in pain.
"You’re pretty badly hurt, but luckily you didn’t die," Devlin chuckled with a grin as he took another puff of smoke.
"Whew~"
He exhaled leisurely, twisting his neck, "Why didn’t you make a move earlier?"
"Can’t beat them," Brysen Beaumont leaned against a tree, visibly uncomfortable.
"Really?" Devlin’s tone carried a hint of surprise, "You, Master Beaumont, could reach up to the sky and down into the oceans. And you couldn’t beat a bunch of kids?"
Thunderpeak Hall Mage, his name shook the world!
What a pity...
On the northwest road, he was beaten like a dog.
Down and out like a dog.
When Devlin found him, he was hanging on by a single breath.
"Kid?"
Brysen Beaumont flicked the cigarette butt to the ground, gently crushed it out with his foot, and stretched out his hand, "Give me another one."
"Are you addicted now?"
Devlin reluctantly took out another cigarette.
"Give it here!"
Crack!
Brysen Beaumont snatched it, took out one, and pocketed it.
"Master Beaumont, what’s the difference between you and a bandit? You’re a renowned pillar of the Thunderpeak Hall, with enough money in your pocket to fill a room. You’re robbing me of cigarettes?"
Devlin said with a plaintive tone, "Is this something a person should do?"
"Heh heh."
Brysen Beaumont, disregarding everything else, quietly lit another cigarette, "You know, money means nothing to me. I’d rather have this pack of cigarettes, it’s more substantial."
He took a deep drag, coughed a bit, but still enjoyed it.
"How can one live without a hobby?"
Devlin shook his head and sighed, "If grandma found out I taught you to smoke, I’d probably get a beating."
"You don’t say."
Brysen Beaumont, holding his cigarette, leaned against a tree and looked at Devlin, "I’ve been obsessed with martial arts all these years with no other hobbies. My only hobby was fighting. But that battle on the northwest road really knocked me senseless."
He smiled bitterly, "There’s always someone better. Grandma didn’t choose the opponent wisely."
"That’s something only you dare say. I wouldn’t dare; I’m afraid of getting hit," Devlin, wearing leather gloves, squatted down, gently teased the sprouting green grass.
"Devlin, you’re not so afraid of grandma. Everyone knows, grandma likes you a lot."
Brysen Beaumont finished his second cigarette and subconsciously reached into his pocket.
But he hesitated, not lighting up a third one right away.
Even the best things should come slowly.
"You have good skills and you’re handsome, why wouldn’t grandma like you?"
Devlin gave a bitter smile, "I don’t want to be liked by anyone."
"That’s not up to you!"
Brysen Beaumont rubbed his hands together and sighed, "Those people, they chased me all the way to China."
"I know, you just killed a few."
Devlin looked up, schadenfreude in his voice, "Who made you kill eighteen experts along the way? What, never thought you’d get injured?"
"How did you know I just killed someone?"
Brysen Beaumont was somewhat surprised.
"You forgot, my work is underground. The entire plan for Gonzalez City was laid out by grandma, and I personally arranged it," Devlin pointed at the bottom of Brysen Beaumont’s shoe, "There’s blood under your foot, I can smell it."
"Impressive!"
Brysen Beaumont admired from the bottom of his heart.
"You didn’t mention why you didn’t rob Quella Radcliffe. Grandma’s order was that this woman must be controlled," Devlin stood up, looked in the direction Quella Radcliffe left, and asked aloud, "Even though you, Master Beaumont, are injured, facing a bunch of ordinary people, it shouldn’t be too hard to beat them, right?"
"They weren’t ordinary people."
Brysen Beaumont shook his head, but couldn’t help it and pulled out the third cigarette.
"They were well-trained Shadow Warriors." He lit his lighter and took a deep drag, "The one in white earlier, he’s very strong. If I wasn’t injured, it would be easy to kill him. But now I’m seriously hurt, I can’t win."
"Aron Jackson?"
Devlin raised his eyebrow, "That doesn’t seem right! I’m well aware of Aron Jackson’s details."
"I don’t know his name, but that man is formidable, a martial artist," Brysen Beaumont continued to stare ahead, "I couldn’t have misjudged. If we really fought, you wouldn’t last five moves."
"I’ll check it out later."
Devlin fell silent for a moment, then spoke up, "I’m going to head off first."
"Go ahead."
Brysen Beaumont turned and walked away.
...
Half an hour later.
Gonzalez City, Five-lakes Clubhouse.
Since Fabian Percival died, its doors had been tightly shut, with no one in sight.
At that moment, a black silhouette slowly appeared.
"Old friend, I’ve come to see you again. I don’t know how you’re doing down there, but I promise you, I’ll make it happen. It won’t be long before grandma will personally come to accompany you," the shadow said, "If you’re short on money, just let me know in a dream, and I’ll burn some paper money for you."
The flicker of flames danced.
In the dim light, Fabian Percival’s spiritual tablet became intermittently visible.
Until the paper money was completely burned, the shadow slowly departed.
