The sun was shining brightly, and the breeze brought a cool smell of sea water. Scott Smith came out of the club in a carefree manner, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He turned his head to look at the six-story building, which was much more imposing than Steward 's small red brick second floor. He thought that if a fire was lit there, it would definitely be a grand sight.

If Crazy Max, who was sitting in the conference room with a livid face, knew this idea, he would definitely jump down from the third floor and fight him to the death.

Scott Smith hailed a taxi at...