At the headquarters of Lannopolis's black market, Dustin emerged from Orville's luxuriously appointed office. "When you find the herb," he said, "notify me."

"Don't worry, My Liege, I'll keep a vigilant watch!" Orville bowed, escorting Dustin out.

Once Dustin was out of sight, he sighed in relief. Someone had disrespected the King of Hades in his own black market—an unforgivable crime in Hell Hall. Fortunately, Dustin had chosen not to pursue the matter; otherwise, he might well be dead. Orville's face darkened.

"Pay close attention to the King of Hades's surroundings," he instructed the black market's Hell Hall members. "Don't let anyone disrespect him again! The Chandler family has acted foolishly. Teach them a lesson."

Leaving the black market, Dustin entered a car bound for the West family villa. His unsuccessful herb search left him in a foul mood. After leaving the downtown area, he scowled.

"These guys seriously overestimate themselves," he muttered. His heightened senses detected someone tailing him.

Bam!

The car's tires blew. It wasn't an accident; someone had shot them.

Whoosh!

Three assassins materialized beside the road, charging aggressively. Dustin remained motionless, ignoring them. As they approached, a Hell Guard appeared like a phantom, swiftly moving past them. The assassins fell dead. Assassins of their caliber could easily kill ordinary people, but they were no match for Dustin's Hell Guards.

From a distant building, Frost observed through high-tech binoculars.

"Interesting..." he murmured.

"Captain, should we attack now?" someone asked.

"I've got a clear shot," a sniper beside Frost replied, his heavy rifle trained on Dustin's head. A bullet from that rifle could pierce even armored vehicles.

"Wait a little longer," Frost said with a faint smile. Dustin's twenty-million-dollar bounty, placed by the Chandler family, indicated he was no ordinary man. Frost wanted to observe further; the harder Dustin was to kill, the better the negotiation for a higher price.

Whoosh!

More assassins appeared, clearly more professional than the first three. It made no difference; they too fell to Dustin's Hell Guards.

"A ninth-grade fighter..." Frost's eyebrow rose as he assessed the Hell Guard's strength. No wonder Jaxon had offered twenty million; Dustin's protection by a ninth-grade fighter explained the high bounty.

"Then twenty million is still too low," he chuckled. A ninth-grade fighter was an elite martial artist, worth far more. "What a reckless plan, Jaxon Chandler."

After Dustin's death, Frost intended to renegotiate the price. With God's Lance backing him and his own reputation as their ace assassin, the Chandler family wouldn't dare offend him.

More assassins arrived, but met the same fate. Those lurking in the shadows, witnessing the earlier carnage, dared not emerge. When Frost deemed the time right, he ordered the sniper. With Dustin remaining still, the sniper wouldn't need to readjust his aim.

"Fire!"