In a villa's living room within the row of villa complexes, three men were sitting.
One had a smaller, pale build, looking like someone exhausted from overindulgence.
Another was tall and burly, with a gold necklace as thick as a finger, resembling a local thug boss.
The last one appeared very refined, wearing glasses and looking cultured.
"Big brother, the poison mist looks like it's about to clear. Shouldn't we start dealing with that kid in Building Twelve?"
The gaunt man said sinisterly.
The man with glasses adjusted his glasses: "No rush, we're not lacking supplies at the moment; that kid fortified Building Twelve like a doomsday fortress, attacking it head-on is too difficult."
"What's the problem? Once the poison mist clears, I'll gather the brothers to surround him. Then we'll use cutting machines and impact drills on him. I want to see just how tough his turtle shell is."
The man with the gold chain spoke disdainfully.
The three men were brothers.
