Chapter 1731


    His belt also contained a clever mechanism. By touching a button on its side, he could quickly draw a


    small handgun that was capable of firing four bullets.


    That wasn''t an original invention of theirs—At the end of the 19th century, military units from other


    nations had been taken such weapons onto the battlefield. But Arabe had improved the performance


    of these older models, to create a safer secret weapon suited for their outfit, the Mafia me.


    His shoes were no less ingenious. Martha''s goons had only thought to check under the insoles. But the


    crucial part was in the tiny metal buckle on the shoces—By pressing and holding this sp for two


    seconds, it could be detached and thrown to the ground to create a thick smokescreen.


    It was one of their secret weapons—a smoke grenade.


    That’s why, when their car was swarmed by Martha''sckeys, Horace wondered why Boss Be was


    even considering surrender.


    With the arsenal they both carried, the odds of escaping were more than good.


    Later, as Boss Be kept grilling the hag with questions and tipping Horace the wink, Horace started to


    realize Be was setting a trap for Martha.


    But even though it was a trap, seeing Boss Be being pped still hurt him.


    His Boss, who was worshiped by them as God, was tormented by this old crone!


    "That''s quite a lot of gimmicks." Martha snorted upon hearing this. Raising her gun, she fired into the


    air and bellowed, "Listen up, everyone! Catch them, tear off their skins, and pull out their tendons—I


    want them to die so,"


    She hadn''t finished her sentence when “bang”—a shot from Arabe sent Martha''s weapon flying.


    Arabe was a crack shot. As herst bullet was spent, she threw down her own gun and moved


    toward Martha with the grace of a swallow.


    Without her gun, Martha was forced to fight hand-to-hand.


    But it was clear, Martha was no match for Arabe.


    Arabe''s skills were forged in countless battles, a far cry from Martha, who had only managed to


    secure a minor post in Doom.


    Arabe had the upper hand in all aspects—in moves, speed, and strength.


    Martha was sent stumbling back with Arabe’s kick, refusing to ept defeat, she red at her, "Who


    the hell are you?"


    No average families could raise someone like her!


    Could she also be from some organization?


    "If I''d known, I would''ve stripped you and that minion."


    Then she would not be snapped by the button from the minion’s shirt, and Serena wouldn''t have been


    dragged into such a mess.


    "Even without my clothes on, your voice can still be recorded. And don''t forget, my hair band also


    doubles as a camera."


    "What?" Martha stared incredulously at the inconspicuous hair band on Arabe''s head. If one were to


    talk of its value, only the tiny diamond tiara counts, which didn''t look pricey anyways—and it certainly


    Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    looks not like a camera.


    "You''re bluffing? That can be a camera?"


    Arabe pinched the tiny tiara, and what Martha just said echoed from within it.


    Serena, who hadn''t ended the video call, widened her eyes in shock.


    She had seen in the news that how someone would disguise micro-cameras as screws, USB drives,


    lighters.


    But the tiara, no one can tell it was a camera at the first nce!


    She''d never imagined cameras could be masked as buttons and tiny crowns, yet look so convincing.


    What should she do now? Arabe and her underling both held "incriminating evidence" against her


    and Martha.


    If the evidence fell into the hands of the Collins family, she and Martha would be finished!