The Bait and the Trap
When the car arrived at the entrance of The Flavor Factory, the large food processing plant stood quiet beneath the dim glow of industrial lights. The night wind carried faint slls of oil and spice from the surrounding factories, and the road outside was nearly empty.
Waiting near the entrance gate stood Ammy D’Aurelius.
He had clearly been there for so ti.
The mont the headlights of the Lamborghini Veneno swept across the road, Ammy straightened his posture and quickly stepped forward.
Julian stepped out of the car.
Ammy imdiately greeted him with a warm smile.
"Brother, you’re here."
His voice carried polite enthusiasm.
"Must have been a tiring journey."
Julian looked at him quietly for a mont.
The smile on his face was calm... but there was sothing slightly aningful hidden behind it.
"How’s the investigation on the fake accounts going?"
Julian asked casually.
The question sounded ordinary.
But both n understood the deeper aning behind it.
Ammy smiled smoothly.
"It’s all clear."
"We already have the evidence and the witnesses."
"The person responsible has just been taken away."
His tone sounded natural, as if everything had gone exactly according to plan.
Then he casually added,
"How about we find a place to eat?"
Julian raised an eyebrow slightly.
Eating?
Of course, he understood.
The so-called investigation into fake accounts had always been just an excuse.
Tonight’s real purpose was sothing else.
Lure the snake out of its hole.
Julian played along perfectly.
"Sure."
"We haven’t had a al together in a while."
He gave Ammy an easy smile.
"So where are we going?"
Ammy seed pleased that Julian agreed so quickly.
"I know a good farmhouse restaurant," he said.
"It’s quiet and the food is excellent."
He glanced at Julian’s Lamborghini.
A faint flash of jealousy and resentnt flickered in his eyes before quickly disappearing.
"Shall we go there?"
Then he added,
"Or... should I ride with you?"
His gaze lingered for a brief second on the sleek supercar.
The Veneno glead under the streetlight like a wild beast.
Ammy felt a surge of bitterness in his chest.
Because he knew sothing very clearly.
He was far from the center of power in the D’Aurelius household.
The family resources rarely reached him.
A supercar like that...
Was sothing he could only admire from a distance.
His fists tightened slightly.
This man must die.
Everything the D’Aurelius Family owns... should belong to .
Julian suddenly laughed.
"Ride with you."
He gestured casually toward Ammy’s Bentley.
"My passenger seat is reserved for won."
Ammy froze for a mont.
Then he forced a chuckle.
"Still the sa as always, brother."
Both n got into the Bentley.
The door closed quietly.
As the engine started, Julian leaned back comfortably.
His eyes briefly glanced toward the rearview mirror.
In the distance—
Another car was following quietly.
It was the vehicle carrying Timur and Jareb.
Julian’s lips curved slightly.
He had brought them along tonight for a very simple reason.
Cleanup.
Because tonight—
None of the Scythe Division mbers were leaving alive.
-------
anwhile...
On a lonely hillside beside a narrow road outside Valemont, the night wind rustled through tall grass.
Four n dressed in black sat casually on the ground.
Each of them held a cigarette.
Smoke drifted slowly into the cold night air.
The atmosphere felt relaxed.
Almost casual.
But the faint killing intent surrounding them made the place feel unsettling.
One of the n was extrely thin.
His face was gaunt.
And most striking of all—
His hands had twelve fingers.
He flicked ash from his cigarette and asked calmly,
"How long until the target arrives?"
One of the others checked his watch.
"About twenty minutes."
"We can start preparing."
The gaunt man waved his hand dismissively.
"No rush."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Let’s toy with him a bit first."
He took another slow drag from his cigarette before speaking again.
"Do you know about Eighth Position General Bear?"
One of the n laughed.
"Of course."
"He’s in prison."
The other three burst into laughter.
The Scythe Division had always been a tight-knit group.
They shared victories, missions... and ridicule.
The once-mighty Eight War Generals of the Obsidian Wing.
And one of them had returned from Japan only to be thrown into prison within half a month.
A disgrace.
A complete humiliation.
The gaunt man sneered.
"He was always a waste."
"If he hadn’t clung to Evan, what right did he have to beco one of the Eight War Generals?"
The others nodded in agreent.
Inside the Obsidian Wing organization, ambition ran deep.
Everyone wanted power.
Everyone wanted rank.
The Scythe Division was an elite assassination unit.
Every mber dread of one day rising to beco one of the Eight War Generals.
Being forced to serve under soone like Bear had always irritated them.
The gaunt man continued speaking.
"And Evan isn’t much better."
"How long has he been back?"
"Yet he already lost billions."
He scoffed.
"Squandering the money, we worked so hard to earn."
The other three chuckled quietly.
But none of them dared go too far.
After all—
Evan was still the Obsidian King.
Even if they disliked him.
The gaunt man leaned forward slightly.
His eyes glowed with excitent.
"Today’s mission must be completed."
He paused dramatically.
"But not for Evan."
His lips curled.
"For Young Master Lucas."
The na imdiately changed the mood.
Lucas.
Second among the Eight War Generals.
Evan’s senior brother.
A man known for terrifying strength and ruthless ambition.
Many people inside the Obsidian Wing believed sothing privately.
If Evan had not been the old Obsidian King’s blood relative...
The position of Obsidian King would have belonged to Lucas.
And the Scythe Division?
They were Lucas’s loyal team.
The gaunt man continued,
"After we kill the target today..."
"We’ll send his head to Young Master Lucas."
The others nodded eagerly.
"Showing that soone who humiliated Evan was easily killed by Young Master Lucas..."
"That will be a great achievent."
His voice grew more excited.
"With this rit..."
"It will prove that Young Master Lucas is far more capable than Evan."
His eyes burned with ambition.
"And when Young Master Lucas becos the Obsidian King..."
"We four brothers will beco the Eight War Generals."
The night wind grew colder.
But the four n felt their blood heating with excitent.
The gaunt man stood up slowly.
His voice rose with enthusiasm.
"Brothers."
"We’ve endured under Young Master Lucas for so long."
"Tonight..."
"Our ti to make a na for ourselves has arrived!"
The other three stood up as well.
Their voices echoed across the quiet hillside.
"Big Brother!!!"
"Second Brother!!!"
"Third Brother!!!"
"Fourth Brother!!!"
The trap was ready.
And both sides were heading toward it.
None of them yet realized—
Tonight’s hunt would not go the way they expected.
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