With the start of the Grand Martial Master Level competition in Niphoria's freestyle fighting tournament, Drake Trent's plan fell apart.
The head of the Sherwood Clan proactively sent Victor Trent an invitation to join the Sherwoods and watch the freestyle fighting tournament in Niphoria.
Drake Trent stared at the clan emblem on the invitation—a design that resembled a bird, but wasn't one. He said sinisterly, "Do they really think we wouldn't dare make a move on them just because we're in Niphoria?"
Victor Trent glanced at him, took a drag from his cigar, and slowly exhaled. "If the Guardian is here, we really can't make a move."
"Are we just going to let it go?"
"Of course not." Victor Trent suddenly clapped his hands.
A serene woman walked in. Her features were gentle, and she had the unmistakable air of a woman from a prominent family.
"This is..."
"Her identity isn't important. What matters is her face."
Drake Trent's brow furrowed. "What about her face?"
