James sat on the sofa, crossed his legs, and lit a cigarette. The smell of cigarette smoke filled the air. Opposite him, a black-vested, middle-aged man—who had been fiddling with walnuts—had a darkened face.

"I will say this once more," the man said. "If you want information, make the transfer now." James waved dismissively.

"Nah, it's alright," James replied. "I'm not buying it. It's not worth it."

He stood up, followed by Henry and Black Rose.

The man in the black vest snorted. "What do you take this place for? Do you think you can just come and go as you please?"

James chuckled. "Have your boss come to us himself if he's interested in a deal. It's a huge one, after all. I'm afraid you aren't qualified to conduct business with me."

Though momentarily stunned, the man quickly regained his composure. "Are you implying that I'm not Jake Graham?"

James pointed at the surveillance camera in the corner. "Your boss must be watching in the shadows, isn't he? As expected, Jake Graham is extremely cautious. So much so that he's sent his subordinates to conduct business with me in his stead. He lacks sincerity. I'm calling this off."

Meanwhile, in the other room, a sixty-year-old man smoking a cigarette wore a grim expression. James Caden was no ordinary man. He hadn't even batted an eyelid with a firearm pressed against his head, and he possessed a keen sense of observation. He studied the footage without acting rashly.

James glanced at the black-vested man fiddling with the walnuts and laughed. "You look like him, alright. Not even a single trace of a flaw."

"If so, why do you say I'm not the real Jake Graham?"

"Your aura," James explained. "Jake Graham is an extremely influential man. As the King of the Underworld and the honcho of a local turf, he must exude a certain aura. But you, on the other hand…"

"Based on this alone?"

"That's right."

In a stone building, a goon approached Jake. "Boss, I called Brooks. He was mumbling the entire conversation and didn't say much, but he did mention that the guy purchasing information isn't someone to be trifled with."

"Alright, I understand." Jake waved dismissively and stood up, exiting the house.

James turned to leave. Clap, clap, clap. An old yet energetic man in a green shirt with a slick haircut walked out, clapping. "Impressive. Truly impressive."

James glanced at the approaching man. He sensed a strong aura—the real Jake Graham. He hadn't expected the infamous underworld figure to be elderly.

Jake waved at his mercenaries. "Stand down."

"Yes, Boss." The armed mercenaries complied.

The man in the black vest bowed respectfully. Jake nodded, sat on the sofa, with the man standing behind him. He glanced at the trio.

"You wish to purchase the truth of the Cadens incident ten years ago?" James asked.

"Yes. You have it?"

"Indeed, I do. But the price remains the same: ten billion."

James snickered. "Ten billion is too expensive. I'll settle for ten dollars."

Jake's face darkened. The man in the black vest drew his pistol, pointing it at James. "Are you just looking for trouble?" he asked coldly.

"That's right…" James's face turned grim. He threw the cigarette butt with great force. A cigarette butt in James's hands was a terrifying secret weapon.

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