Y Nation.
Ethan Sterling proactively hung up the phone, his breathing somewhat erratic, suddenly feeling the temperature by the sea drop.
After a long while, he tossed the phone to the subordinate waiting beside him, "Go back now, and make sure no one finds out I've left the hotel."
"But Young Master Sterling, your hand…"
The burning sensation was now slowly becoming perceptible, fresh blood oozing from the purplish-red wound, making the subordinate uneasy about letting Ethan leave like this.
He withdrew his hand, his tone indisputable, "Go back."
"Yes." The subordinate had no choice but to comply and leave.
As a final remark, the subordinate added, "Young Master Sterling, from what I understand, you'll have to squeeze into the bottom hold of a cargo ship with all the other refugees later. Avoid any conflicts, or you'll be thrown into the sea."
Who cares about the lives of refugees?
