As the crate was opened, a strong stench of blood filled the hall. When the contents were revealed, most of the Silver Fang members turned pale and vomited on the spot.
The crate was filled with severed noses, packed tightly together, stained with blood—a gruesome sight. Alongside the pile of noses was a small flask and a blood-stained letter. Spike's face turned ashen at the sight, recognizing the flask as belonging to only one person, the world's top assassin and Ethan's eighth disciple, the Drunkard.
Spike's complexion oscillated between green and white as he realized he had severely underestimated Ethan's capabilities. Just then, his phone rang. Annoyed, he answered it, but within seconds, he smashed the phone to pieces.
Everyone turned to look at him, and Spike, with a bitter expre
