Without knowing when, the rain had gradually stopped. The air was unnaturally fresh following the rain, and the moon, previously obscured by dark clouds, had started to reveal itself. Its silvery light fell onto the ground, and under its rays, one could even see the residual rainwater on the leaves.
Inside the factory, lights were rekindled. Zhao Tianba, his face fluctuating between stormy and clear, stood at the deepest part of the factory.
There were over twenty of Zhao Tianba's men scattered throughout the factory, some even on the second floor, their arrangement suggesting a serious stand-by mode.
Gazing at his numerous subordinates, Zhao Tianba felt a hint of security.
He took the cigar offered by one of his men, and after it was lit, he took a big puff. The fear on his face gradually faded a bit. Then he took out his phone and quickly dialed a number. The call was quickly answered. An obedient voice on the other side said, "Boss Zhao!"
