Tyson asked, "Mr. Damian Goodman, how should we proceed this time? Are we still keeping it from Mr. Braydon Goodman? His men are still outside West Isle."

Goodman maintained a neutral expression. His wrinkled face broke into a cold smile. 'Does Braydon think those worthless individuals can keep me trapped? That's laughable,' Damian thought.

"This time, I'll leave openly. My grandson needs to know who's really in charge of the Goodman family," Damian said.

News of Damian leaving West Isle to reclaim his position at the head of the Goodman family quickly spread through Mysonna's underworld. By the time Braydon received the news, the men he'd stationed to guard Damian had already been eliminated. His eyes showed no surprise, only an icy chill, tinged with bloodlust.

Carson stood trembling beside him. A staunch supporter of Braydon, he hadn't anticipated Damian's ability to overcome Braydon's obstacles and return to Mysonna. Damian's power and ruthlessness were truly alarming. Years ago, Braydon had sent Damian to West Isle. Now that Damian was back, Carson felt his life hanging by a thread.

Braydon played with a lighter. In the flickering firelight, his face shifted between light and shadow, the small scar adding an eerie touch. After a long pause, he chuckled lightly, then erupted into sharp, piercing laughter.

Carson dared not lift his head, trying to make himself inconspicuous, though in the small room, there was nowhere to hide. Braydon's gaze fixed on him, cold and mocking.

His voice, smooth and shadowed, said, "Damian is something. All these years, he remained on West Isle to mislead me. I naively thought he had no followers left, no chance to rise again. Today, he's truly slapped me in the face."

Carson bowed lower, Braydon's words intensifying his fear.

"Chief Braydon, Chief Damian left West Isle without leaving anyone behind. He's declaring war. It won't be easy to subdue him this time," Carson said.

Braydon pursed his lips, his dark eyes cold, deep, and hinting at madness. "So he's declaring war? He's not the underground king he used to be. And I'm not the Braydon who could be easily pushed around anymore," Braydon said.

Carson's fear intensified. He knew a little about Braydon's past—a taboo within the Goodman family, never spoken of. Before leading the family, Braydon had been a different man.

Braydon looked at Carson coldly. "How are things on Yvette's side? Any news?"

Carson outlined his intelligence. "Chief Braydon, we've located Ms. Zeller's residence. A man purchased the property. We've investigated extensively, even using government connections, but can't identify him. Officials say the villa owner's identity is top-secret. As for Ms. Zeller, her counter-surveillance skills are exceptional. Our operatives lost her within minutes."

Carson paused, hesitant, fearing Braydon's reaction.

Braydon curled his lips into a cold smile. "Continue. But what?"

Cold sweat dripped down Carson's face. "Ms. Zeller isn't alone. There are four men and a woman. We identified the woman as Mr. Nathan Goodman's girlfriend, Sienna. We haven't found information on the men."

Braydon tossed the lighter, striking Carson in the head. Blood gushed forth. Carson remained still, letting the blood flow, until his face was covered.

"Useless! All of you are useless! Yvette is in Mysonna, and I still don't know anything about her! I'll give you three more days. Fail, and you're dismissed as head of the punishment hall. Get out!" Braydon shouted.

With a bloodied face, Carson bowed, turned, and left. As he reached the door, he heard Braydon say, "No wonder Yvette chose Charles instead of you back then."

Carson clenched his fists. What's the point of being great? Charles is dead. Real power lies in longevity, he thought.

Royal Phoenix, Mysonna's largest private club, combined leisure and entertainment with high privacy, making it a favorite among the city's wealthy. Usually bustling, today it was eerily quiet, only the staff on high alert.

There was only one reason: Damian was here. People attempting to enter were stopped; upon hearing Damian's name, they left dejectedly. Curious onlookers watched from afar. The staff mentioned Damian was hosting an important guest.

"Who could it be? What guest warrants a personal invitation from Damian?" they wondered. Damian was a legendary figure; anyone craved a glimpse of him.

Tyson stood at the door, his face cold and expressionless. Some onlookers recognized him and whispered about his reputation: a legendary enforcer who once single-handedly wiped out an enemy gang.

Everyone gave Tyson a wide berth, yet their curiosity about the guest intensified. Tyson's presence signaled the guest's exceptional status. Word was that Damian hadn't even visited his family before coming here.

Who could this person be? Their curiosity mounted.

Tyson remained impassive. Then, his eyes flickered as he saw someone disembarking a bus across the street. She's always unpredictable, Tyson thought.

Yvette glanced at the crowd, adjusted her cap, and slowly walked toward Royal Phoenix. The crowd's attention remained on Tyson, missing her arrival completely. They wouldn't have guessed the guest would arrive by bus.

Tyson approached and bowed. "Ms. Zeller, please. Mr. Goodman is waiting for you in the gun room."

Onlookers exchanged glances, some just realizing Yvette's arrival. It was unbelievable. They hadn't heard Tyson, but his deference toward Yvette was clear. "A girl who just got off the bus?" they wondered.