Dorion, cautious but ready, decided to attack first. Yvette, a slight frown creasing her brow, met his gaze with a sharp, cold stare. As he rushed, she lazily glanced his way and said, "Fool."

Dorion's surprise caused him to hesitate. Yvette, smiling playfully, produced a shiny silver gun from her clothing. While he stood confused, she pulled the trigger; a bullet struck his left leg. He fell, his face reddening, completely unprepared for her unexpected move. "This is a serious breach of fighting rules!" he thought.

Dragging his injured leg, Dorion glared at her, anger etched on his face. "You... you have no honor. How could you use a gun?"

Yvette laughed softly, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Oh? Did I say I wouldn't? Why work hard when you can solve things easily?"

Dorion, furious, clutched his chest, shaking with rage. Moments ago, she'd faced numerous enemies unarmed; now he lay shot down. "How shameful," he thought. The onlookers were speechless.

After Dorion fell, Burley considered escape. Yvette's glance had him shrinking back in fear. The crowd, stunned, grappled with how to explain the day they witnessed a beautiful woman subdue the powerful Tiger Head, leaving them half-dead, and Dorion felled by a single shot. Had they not seen it, they'd have dismissed it as a fabricated tale.

Sandor, attempting to slip away, felt a sudden hush fall over the room. He turned to see Yvette regarding him with a smirk. Terrified, he dropped to his knees, bowing his head. "Beautiful lady, I was wrong. Please spare me. I won't do it again. I will never do anything bad again. If I do, may my whole family suffer."

Yvette pointed her silver gun at his head, causing Sandor to wet himself in fear. The crowd recoiled in disgust, covering their noses. Yvette casually holstered her weapon as Sandor wiped the cold sweat from his brow. She then gestured to a distant chair. Sandor hurried to it, cleaning it with his sleeve and bowing deeply. "Lady, please sit. I've made it clean for you." The onlookers could barely believe the display of abject flattery. They watched the fall of the Tiger Head, a powerful gang that had ruled for years, brought low by an unknown woman.

Yvette sat, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her hand, appearing relaxed. "Go get your leader. The Tiger Head should share both good and bad times. Don't you agree?"

Sandor trembled, glancing back at the cowering Burley, then at Yvette. "Can I...?"

Yvette's pale fingers toyed with her gun; her voice was low and teasing. "Hmm?"

With a bold decision, Sandor chose betrayal. He approached Burley, tying him up with rope while apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry, boss! I had no choice. That woman is dangerous. Please forgive me this once."

Burley struggled, but was too weak. Sandor worked diligently, even stuffing a cloth in his mouth to silence him. Returning to Yvette, he nervously asked, "Lady, do you have any more orders?"

Yvette raised an eyebrow, still playful. "You did well. Keep it up next time."

Sandor's heart sank; he'd sealed his fate. He dared not look back at Burley or Dorion, forcing a smile that resembled a grimace as he retreated, escape now a distant dream.

Yvette lounged in her chair, her pale face hinting at coldness. She tilted her head toward the fallen Dorion and laughed lightly. "Has your help not arrived yet?"

Dorion gasped, his body tense, momentarily forgetting his injury. "How did you know I called for help? Why didn't you stop me?"

Moments earlier, while Sandor fetched the chair, Dorion had secretly sent a text for help, believing himself to be sneaky. But Yvette had seen through his plan and allowed the call. He wondered, "Why? Does she truly fear nothing from Seventy-Two Chambers or the Goodman family?" Doubts arose; had he angered someone truly untouchable?

Yvette looked at him with an unreadable expression, her eyes clear yet slightly misty. Leaning back, she said, "I needed to get rid of the roots."

Dorion's eyes widened in disbelief; his pain forgotten in confusion. "This is her plan? Can she really take all of us down?" he thought.

Yvette ignored his reaction, took out her phone, and began tapping the screen. The familiar sounds of a game filled the air. The crowd was speechless, exchanging confused glances. The scene was bizarre: Burley bound in a corner, Dorion bleeding on the floor, Sandor too terrified to look up, and a group of beaten men scattered around, while the beautiful woman calmly played a game.

Fifteen minutes later, the bar's door opened, revealing a group of armed men in black, clearly experienced fighters. They formed a line, each man intimidating. As they parted, a tall man in a trench coat stepped into the light.

Burley, closest to the entrance, was shocked. He trembled, his face pale, hardly believing Dorion's backup to be this person. After years in the chamber, Burley had only seen Charles a few times at large meetings. As for Braydon, Burley had only glimpsed him from afar once, too frightened to even look up—the memory vivid in his mind.