The vi wasn''t exactly huge, but its garden was dotted with a variety of meticulously trimmed nts and flowers, each corner showing off the tasteful artistry of its owner.


    Walking into the main hall, Toby, dressed casually in a navy leisure suit, seemed to have timed everything perfectly, just as he was brewing a fresh pot of coffee.


    Standing up from the elegant coffee table, Toby greeted with a bnced tone, "James."


    James looked at Toby, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.


    At around twenty-five or twenty-six, Toby had refined, schrly features, exuding an air of a gentleman poetpletely different from the ''wolf'' James had expected.


    But that calm demeanor hinted that Toby was far from the harmless figure he appeared to be.


    James took a seat at the coffee table, his hand casually resting on its surface, his demeanorid-back and nonchnt.


    Toby, maintaining a modest smile, filled James''s cup with coffee and sat down himself, getting straight to the point, "I know you''re interested in the Bishop family''s underground connections. So let''s cut to the chase."


    After a pause and a sip of his coffee, Toby continued, "I can transfer all of the Bishops'' influence in the underground alliance to you. I have just one condition: after this, the Bishop name is to be nonexistent here."


    Toby''s voice was light, as if discussing the weather instead of a major power shift.


    James raised an eyebrow, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, "The Bishop family, gone?"


    Setting down his cup, Toby''s gentle facade remained, "Exactly."


    In front of a Shepherd, there was no need for pretense. If they wanted to dig, they could uncover all his secrets.


    "As I understand it, isn''t the control of the alliance in the hands of your older brothers?" James asked, his tone casual.


    A slight smirk yed on Toby''s lips, his gaze lowered before he spoke softly, "They''re nothing but failures."


    Wyatt, who was nearby, cast Toby a nce at those words. You really can''t judge a book by its cover. Who would''ve guessed that beneath this schrly exterior was such arrogance?


    No wonder his brothers and the other power holders of the Bishops didn''t know about him.


    He''d hidden his tracks well.


    Toby caught Wyatt''s look but remained unchanged, ever the image of genteel modesty—perhaps he''d worn this mask for so long that it had be his only expression.


    Their conversation drifted to other topics until a sudden bang from outside, like the sound of a door being struck, interrupted them.


    Toby''s brow furrowed. ncing at James, he said, "Please excuse me, I''ll go check on that."


    As he rose, a squad of well-trained men barged in, brandishing clubs as thick as their arms.


    Following them was a middle-aged man, in his forties, with a face hardened by life, exuding a dangerous aura.


    Toby''s eyes grew cold as he looked at him.


    "Well, well, my dear brother, inviting James over and not telling me-don''t you think that''s a bit rude?" Emmitt of the Bishop family sneered, his voice rough and


    his demeanor savage, a stark contrast to Toby''s cultivated poise.


    He sauntered closer, but before he could approach James, Curtis stepped forward, cing himself between them.


    Curtis was expressionless, his presence lethal, an aura of decisiveness that dwarfed that of the seasoned enforcers around him.