The Moon Villa beneath the dark clouds seethed with unseen currents.
Darrell Percival was dead.
Hanged from that crooked tree in the backyard.
More than half of the elite troops Andrew brought along were dead, inflicting a devastating blow on the nascent Pendleton.
All the money in the world is useless without people, isn't it?
Looking at the heavy gold behind him, Andrew felt no joy.
Wading through these troubled waters made him likely miss the chance to compete for control over the world.
Who knew why those outside experts were charging in here like madmen, risking their lives?
What kind of grudge, what kind of enmity?
"Retreat!"
Andrew was covered in blood, with four or five wounds on his body.
The Pendleton assassins behind him fared no better.
Each one listless, their faces uneasy.
They thought it was just a routine bounty hunt, but in the end, it turned into a deadly escape.
Ten full carriages of gold.
This was Darrell Percival's treasury, extremely wealthy.
