Assassination?
Lucius did it?
Pompey's pupils shrank. His hawk-like gaze shifted instantly from Lucy and locked onto Lucius, scrutinizing him with an intense stare.
"Mmmph—!"
The moment Pompey's eyes landed on him, Lucius began struggling violently. Unfortunately, the rag stuffed in his mouth blocked all sound, leaving no one able to tell what he was trying to say.
"Hey, don't move," Lighter warned coldly. "Otherwise, I can't guarantee how much force I'll use next."
Lucius struggled even harder. Lighter frowned deeply, his grip tightening involuntarily as he pinned Lucius down.
"Bastards! How dare you treat the second-in-command like this!"
Lucius was, after all, the Vanquishers' second-in-command. Seeing him handled this way by the Sons of Calydon, Amur and the others were instantly filled with righteous fury, surging forward as if ready to start a fight.
The Sons of Calydon stiffened at once, each drawing their weapons in response.
Even little Corin hesitated for a moment before starting up her chainsaw.
At least for today, she was a member of the Sons of Calydon!
"Enough."
Pompey's eyes flickered. He raised an arm to block the bodyguards behind him, then swept a stern gaze across the Sons of Calydon, forcing them to halt as well.
Once the tension eased, Pompey spoke in a deep voice:
"Remove the rag from Lucius's mouth. I need to hear his answer."
"Lighter."
Lucy glanced back and signaled.
Lighter gave a slight nod and tore the cloth from Lucius's mouth.
"Boss, they're lying!" Lucius roared immediately.
Knowing full well that the Sons of Calydon lacked ironclad proof, Lucius chose to deny everything outright.
"I just came back from negotiating business in the city! I've never even seen anyone from the Sons of Calydon. This is a setup—they're framing me!"
Pompey's brow furrowed deeply.
He looked at Lucy. Her expression was calm, as though Lucius's outburst hadn't angered her in the slightest.
Then he looked back at Lucius. His face was flushed red, neck veins bulging, teeth clenched, eyes wide like a bull's—looking every bit like someone who had suffered an enormous injustice.
Pompey's suspicious gaze returned to Lucy.
"Miss Lucy," he said slowly, "do you have any further evidence to accuse Lucius?"
"I mean solid evidence. Not theoretical calculations or projections. Tools are limited in the Outer Ring, and most people don't understand those things anyway."
Though he was an Overlord, Pompey's experience lay in managing gangs. When it came to math and physics, even he was completely out of his depth.
He simply didn't understand them.
That was why he needed Lucy to produce stronger proof to determine the truth.
Pompey narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.
If Lucy couldn't provide it…
"Congratulations," Lucy said calmly. "We truly have no evidence proving that Lucius was the one who drove the Proxy into the Hollow."
"But we also have no intention of releasing him."
Admitting a lack of proof—yet still refusing to let him go?
Pompey's expression darkened. His aged yet still powerful arm shot back toward his waist in a blur.
"To show our sincerity," Lucy continued casually, "how about we head to Blazewood's best restaurant, Cheesetopia, and treat you to a meal as an apology, Overlord?"
"Oh, what a shame," she added with a sigh. "I just remembered—because the Vanquishers assigned such terrible routes to the Sons of Calydon, Cheesetopia ran out of ingredients and shut down this morning."
Faced with the sudden surge of pressure from the Vanquishers, the Sons of Calydon all wore grave expressions. Only Lucy shrugged helplessly and sighed.
Pompey froze.
His hand, already gripping the handle of his gun, stiffened in place.
Whoosh—
A tumbleweed rolled past. The yellowed wind carried grains of sand that stung against his cheeks.
After a long moment, Pompey finally released his grip and lowered the gun. He stared ahead, then slightly lowered his head to look at Lucy.
At last, he understood her line of thinking.
He was busy—constantly running from place to place. He wasn't someone people could meet just because they wanted to.
And as for route allocation between gangs, it was obvious that Lucius had been pulling strings behind the scenes.
As the Vanquishers' second-in-command, if Lucius wanted to keep something hidden, Pompey might not discover the truth for a very long time.
For the Sons of Calydon, if they wanted to meet him and resolve the route distribution issue, abducting Lucius was undoubtedly the simplest and most direct approach.
After all, Lucius was the Vanquishers' second-in-command in name—and their successor in practice.
Pompey was old. As long as Lucius didn't do anything foolish, remained upright, kept the bigger picture in mind, avoided factionalism, and didn't collude with outsiders, the position of Vanquishers' leader would eventually be his.
"Haa…"
Pompey let out a heavy breath, rubbing his temples before turning to Amur.
"Bring out the route distribution map."
Amur stiffened at once. Acting as both bodyguard and personal aide, he fumbled nervously for quite some time before finally pulling a folded map from his bag and presenting it with both hands.
Pompey ignored Amur's clumsiness. He immediately unfolded the map and examined it, searching for the Sons of Calydon's position.
Suddenly, he frowned.
"According to this," he said slowly, "the Sons of Calydon haven't drawn any good routes in recent years. Their luck has been… poor."
"Luck?" Lucy scoffed, crossing her thin arms over her chest. "Drawing the worst routes over and over again—and you call that luck?"
"Having a sharp tongue is fine, young lady," Pompey replied, glancing at her. "But don't overdo it."
He closed the map and spoke in a solemn tone:
"Regardless, it's a fact that Blazewood can't go on like this. How about this instead…"
"Recently, I reached agreements with several districts neighboring the Old Oil Field to share highway access. That opens up at least five new freight routes. For the next six months, the Sons of Calydon will be responsible for three of them. What do you say?"
Lucy's expression remained cold as she analyzed his words.
"Agreements with neighboring districts?" she asked. "You mean you're giving up profits that should belong to the Vanquishers and handing them over to others instead?"
"It may be a coincidence," Pompey replied evenly, "but you're barely scraping by as it is."
He couldn't help glancing at Lucius again, then withdrew his gaze in disappointment.
"Tsc… Lighter—huh?"
Lucy had been about to wave Lighter over to release Lucius when she suddenly felt a warm presence draw near.
Caesar leaned in close, whispering into her ear.
"Hey, Lucy. Is what he said true? Are those routes really that good?"
"If everything he said is true," Lucy replied honestly, "then yes. It would solve the long-standing issues between us and Blazewood. And with the expanded routes, other biker tribes would earn a lot more too."
"Oho!" Caesar's eyes lit up. "Lighter, let him go."
Seeing Lucius slowly walk over while rolling his shoulders, Caesar stepped forward and slammed a palm squarely into his back, shoving him hard toward Pompey.
"Ahhh!"
Lucius let out a shrill scream. Don't be fooled by Caesar's appearance—her strike carried tremendous force. Lucius felt as though fire was burning across his back, his bones aching intensely.
"You—!"
He whipped around, eyes splitting with rage, a feral glare like that of a wolf locking onto Caesar.
Caesar paid him no attention at all. She planted her hands on her hips, looking thoroughly pleased.
"Hey, old man, your offer isn't bad," she said cheerfully. "But you've got one thing wrong—Tour de Inferno is coming up. Who's the Overlord, and who gets to assign the routes, isn't decided yet!"
"If it were up to me, I'd do a far fairer job than you!"
Lucius finally snapped. All the anger he'd bottled up from being detained boiled over as he screeched:
"You shameless lot! Don't even think about it! You can't even manage a tiny place like Blazewood and you still dare—Mr. Pompey?"
Pompey shook his head, cutting him off.
"You've done enough today," he said calmly. "Withdraw and rest."
"Mr. Pompey—"
"Hm?"
Lucius swallowed his words under Pompey's gaze.
No matter how unwilling he was, he could only grit his teeth and comply.
"…Yes. I understand."
Lucius stepped back. No one noticed the cold glint in his eyes.
Pompey, meanwhile, studied Caesar with interest.
If this had been his younger self, anyone daring to challenge his authority would have been crushed without hesitation.
But he was old now. His hair had turned white, and his temperament had changed with time. Not only did he feel no resentment toward Caesar's boldness, there was even a strange sense of anticipation stirring within him.
Anticipation for what?
That she might truly make the Outer Ring better?
…I really am old, to be entertaining thoughts like that.
Pompey shook his head, then suddenly burst into hearty laughter.
"Hahaha! Bold words!" he said. "Then let me see how you perform when Tour de Inferno begins!"
With that, he turned and walked away. His retreating figure looked noticeably lighter than when he had arrived.
As he passed Lucius, he gave him a heavy slap on the shoulder.
"Let's go," Pompey said. "You've truly surprised me."