There was a dimly lit office on the other side of the underground arena. It belonged to Fat Jim, who loved the dark.

At that moment, he held a cigar while shaking his legs on the table. The vinyl player was broken, but that did not stop him from smiling.

The case of cash in front of him was the source of his happiness. He didn't calculate how much money there was, but he knew it was the amount that made him happy. He didn't care who the person trading with him was. All he knew was that it didn't matter if Morpheus died—his profit was endless.

-

Earlier.

"Kill Morpheus."

That was the first thing the mysterious man said as soon as he came in.

place. Just when he was about to get his men to chase

cash in the case made one

frowned. "What's

of this underground arena. You call the shots for who lives and dies." The man chuckled. "I'll give you more if this isn't enough to

up a stack with his chubby hand. The cash was new—there was a

Jim tossed the cash back into the case. "I won't betray

man smirked. "Don't

dimmed, and

him die? Do you think a

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