Night, silent and soundless.
In a concealed room within an alleyway.
Yamamoto Ichiro lay on the sofa.
His gaze, however, was fixed on the Crystal Ball on the coffee table.
Lin Fan's image imprinted on it filled his eyes with assassination intent.
Many times, he had grabbed the Crystal Ball, but in the end, he always put it down again.
Overwhelmed with anger, he truly had nowhere to vent.
Suddenly, the door was pushed open.
A woman dressed in black leather walked in.
"Brother, she has arrived."
"Let her wait. I don't want to see anyone right now."
Yamamoto Ichiro, his mind in a state of irritability, couldn't be bothered to meet with visitors.
Yet from outside the door, a woman in a black pouf skirt walked in.
"Mr. Shanben, don't you pride yourselves on being the most polite nation? Yet, here you hide instead of greeting your guest. Isn't that quite rude?"
The woman in her thirties, with blonde hair and blue eyes, was tall and statuesque.
