The eldest of the four, known for his composure, finally spoke. “No need to worry. When Mr. Glovers makes a decision, he rarely changes it. Let’s remain vigilant and maintain our protection efforts. As long as Ms. Fuller’s safety is assured, the twin venomous creature issue won't be a significant problem.”

“Agreed!”

They recalled the night they faced seventeen assassins. Felicia’s extraordinary, almost superhuman combat skills had been remarkable. That memory reassured them. Even if such a situation recurred, they believed they could handle it.

One of their men, disguised as a janitor, nodded. “As long as we don’t encounter a sniper, we’re golden.”

The room fell silent. The other three exchanged glances and kicked him simultaneously. “Shut up! Don’t jinx it!”

The “janitor” rubbed his bruised hip. “I’m not trying to jinx it. It’s the truth.”

“Oh, shut up!”

Cold sweat beaded on their foreheads. A face-to-face attack was manageable, but a hidden sniper? One bullet could end it all before they reacted. Felicia’s assassination, coupled with the twin venomous creature's effect, would ensure Mr. Glovers’ demise.

“He has a point. We can’t be careless. Felicia handles close combat, but we need to remain concealed and scout every potential sniping location. We must eliminate any possibility of failure.”

“Understood!”

They immediately overhauled their protection strategy, shedding their disguises and blending into the shadows under new identities.

That day, a bald man arrived in Khogend. A guitar case slung over his shoulder, he smoked a cigarette as he strolled the bustling streets. Calling himself “Baldy,” he initially appeared unremarkable. But beneath his baseball cap, his eyes held a dangerous glint.

Lowering his cap, Baldy hailed a cab and gave the address of a residential complex. He reached the seventh floor and pounded on the door.

The forceful knocking unsettled the tenant. Instinctively, he investigated.

“Who’s there?”

Calvin, the tenant, was barely awake. His hair was disheveled; he looked greasy and unkempt. Since his firing, he’d holed himself up, even spying on his neighbor, Carmen, across the street with a telescope.

Initially hiding the telescope, he now brazenly left it on his balcony. When not spying, he harassed Carmen, finding her beauty irresistible, even in her disgust. He was determined to possess her; failing that, to destroy her or drag her down with him.

Calvin knew he had a problem but didn’t care. His behavior had alienated people, fueling his arrogance.

Opening the door, he assumed it was a fool disturbing his sleep. He cursed, “Who the hell are you, pounding on my door like that? Trying to get yourself killed?”

The next second, a powerful kick sent him sprawling. Baldy stepped inside and calmly locked the door.

Calvin lay on the floor, his stomach aching. He concluded the intruder was Carmen’s relative or someone she’d sent. He shouted, “What’s your deal with that bitch, Carmen? Did she send you? Dream on. I’ll never stop bothering her unless one of us is dead!”

Baldy ignored him, moving as if he owned the place, setting the guitar case on a table and unlatching it.

“Damn it!”

Infuriated, Calvin grabbed the nearest object and hurled it. The guitar case latches clicked open, revealing a sniper rifle.