"Brown Bread, spare a live one; I have use for them."
Fabian Percival sneered coldly, very calmly taking out a cigarette from his pocket.
Immediately, someone behind him provided a light.
To say he had not been afraid just now would be a lie.
Even when he was young, he was an impulsive youth.
But having aged and lived comfortably abroad for so many years, he inevitably cherished his life a bit more.
Yet, years of training had long taught him not to show his emotions on his face.
His heart was beating fast as he nonchalantly picked up the cigarette.
Someone moved a chair over from behind him.
Sitting down, Fabian Percival crossed his legs in a lordly manner.
He watched the drama that was unfolding before him in silence.
Brown Bread was known as the 'Hundred Men Slayer', and he also had dozens of battle-hardened bodyguards by his side.
The idea that these two people could escape from the tightly surrounded warehouse was even more difficult than ascending to heaven.
