"Virel, long time no see."

As soon as he saw Virel, Old Santi laughed, greeting him in a seemingly condescending tone.

Especially since he also saw Virel leaning on a cane, with one leg even being a prosthetic, and his back was forced upright despite the discomfort.

He did have the right to do so, as he was older, more experienced, and held a higher position. Back when he was fighting for territory, even Alberto had to respectfully call him senior.

Not to mention the dogs under his command.

By comparison, Virel was nothing more than an old dog.

But Old Santi was an old lion.

"Old Santi, so it's you. Do you know what you're doing?"

Virel's attitude, however, couldn't satisfy Old Santi at all.

Because he appeared calm, composed, and assertive, showing no regard for Old Santi.

No fear, no fright, no retreat.

This was absolutely unexpected for Old Santi.

But it didn't matter, just a mere mortal who dared to be this close...

"Virel, I think we need to talk."

As he spoke, he took another step forward.

He even slightly bowed his head, making it seem like he was about to say something in secret.

Virel also lowered his head, but said something even more unexpected.

"You old thing, don't you really think I don't know what you're up to?"

The moment the words left his mouth, a strong whooshing sound rushed towards Old Santi.

It was Virel's golden cane!

And with it, the Winston typewriter began to roar!

Bullets poured down like a torrential rain on the men Old Santi had brought.

Except for those blocked by the car, most bullets found their way into human bodies.

Blood splattered, and the men Old Santi brought quickly fell like grass.

At the same time, the roaring bullet storm was not limited to just this place.

In most of the Bolita Clan's territory, in areas surrounded and pressured by Evans and the Corleone Clan.

The same typewriter sound echoed again and again.

It was a massacre.

Many were shot dead before they even climbed out of their cars; others managed to start their vehicles but were shot, causing cars to crash into stores.

This was the bloodiest daylight event seen by Wenster in a long time.

This too was the strongest declaration by the second-in-command of the Bolita Clan.

Anyone daring to violate the Bolita Clan should bleed dry.

The scene returns to the entrance of the Bolita Family Manor.

After all, Old Santi was the leader second only to the Destruction God in real name, and he blocked Virel's sudden strike.

But Virel's onslaught was relentless.

After acquiring the real name of the Black Butler, he had regained his youth, with extremely keen skills.

The golden cane and prosthetic leg were his disguises, often misleading people to think he's a cripple, but on the contrary, these were his true weapons.

Old Santi was forced to retreat continuously, gasping for breath.

"You... You're also a real namer?!"

"Yes, surprised?"

Virel was somewhat emotional.

Once upon a time, he could only look up to these people, grovel at their feet.

Just because he was a mortal, unable to cross that chasm.

Now, things were different; now, he intended to destroy these decaying bodies.

Old Santi struggled, even though he was a level above Virel in real name.

But the downside of the leader's real name was exposed, having more enhancements for firearms abilities and motivation for subordinates, but not much gain in close combat.

Moreover, Old Santi was already old and frail.

His body couldn't keep up.

Under the dual attacks of Virel's golden cane and alchemical prosthetic, he was in perilous danger.

"Danny, help me!"

The gunfire had already ceased.

Because there were few people left alive.

Just Old Santi and Danny.

Danny had long hidden behind the car, using his subordinates as human shields to survive.

He dared not go out.

Because as soon as he did, he'd be enveloped in a bullet storm.

He could only take deep breaths repeatedly.

But Old Santi's life was like a candle in the wind.

The next second,

Virel's cane swung fiercely at Old Santi's head.

This time, Old Santi had nowhere to hide.

He looked at it, prepared to close his eyes and await death.

"Fighting is prohibited here!"

A solemn and dignified voice suddenly sounded, like a judgment.

The golden cane Virel was about to bring down abruptly halted in mid-air.

Because he sensed an indescribable force preventing him.

Old Santi was pulled away, his legs went weak, nearly collapsing to the ground.

And standing in his place was a young man.

He wore a leather coat, with a pair of exquisite glasses, exuding confidence.

This person was none other than Albertine Court.

He ultimately couldn't resist, bringing people along.

A series of unexpected changes had shaken his confidence, the unknown situation in Saint Kuanti, and Sandro's persistent inaction.

His people also tracked the whereabouts of Emilio, Sandro's fourth-in-command.

According to previous intel, he should also be in Saint Kuanti.

This made Albertine decide he needed to capture more cards for himself.

So he came to the entrance of the Bolita Family Manor.

Thankfully, he arrived in time; otherwise, his bargaining chips would be gone.

He likely would have had to rely on Virel to confront Sandro.

Which clearly wasn't wise.

Virel's golden cane still hadn't been withdrawn, hovering over Albertine's head.

"What, are you planning to attack a Prohibition Agent?"

"Do Prohibition Agents also handle affairs beyond bootlegging?"

Virel finally withdrew the golden cane, resting it on the ground.

"I now suspect Santi Corleone and Danny Evans of involvement in bootleg trade crimes. I need to take them back for investigation, is that a problem?"

Albertine pushed up his glasses and smiled.

Old Santi and Danny exchanged glances, realizing they had no other choice.

Though falling into the hands of a Prohibition Agent wasn't good either, it was better than dying.

Virel took a deep breath but said nothing more.

"Wait, is there really such a thing in the world where after causing trouble at another's doorstep, you can leave boldly and unscathed?"

A voice rang out from behind everyone.

Upon hearing this voice, everyone's expression changed.

Virel was excited, Albertine's eyes flickered, clearly uneasy.

As for Old Santi and Danny, they already showed signs of fear.

Because this voice was none other than the name that had risen like a shooting star in the past few months.

Ethan Polleta!

He actually came back alive?!

Accompanied by the sound of 'tap', 'tap', 'tap' footsteps, the air seemed to pause at that moment.

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