"Well, I’ve got the numbers on my side!" Helena Wills stood behind the bodyguards, trying to boost her confidence with self-hypnosis, and directly threw down the gauntlet, "No matter if it’s a good idea or not, if you don’t hand over the golden cicada today, I won’t just beat your people, I’ll wreck this shop too!" They were a dark mass of people, attracting quite a few onlookers—drivers and neighbors alike—but since they looked fierce and aggressive, clearly here to cause trouble, even the spectating crowd kept their distance. If three people hadn’t been kicked out in a row, someone might have called the police by now. Nora Scott didn’t show any sign of fear, she looked at them with a faint smile and actually nodded, saying, "Alright, so we’re playing the numbers game, huh?" "Yeah, if you’ve got the guts you..." Helena Wills wanted to continue her harsh words. But, she was interrupted by a crisp, loud whistle. "Whoa, is business really booming here?" A teasing voice came from outside the door, carrying a bit of a careless tone. What followed was the sound of chaotic footsteps, irregular, very attention-grabbing. At that, the crowd facing Nora Scott at the store’s entrance all turned their gaze toward the door simultaneously. The first to catch the eye was a young man about twenty-five or six years old. He wore a long black trench coat, open in front, the hem flapped freely in the cold wind; his appearance was handsome, with a red earring in his left ear and several chains of varying lengths hanging across his chest. The heavy metal vibe paired perfectly with him, not only not detracting from the sophistication his good looks portrayed but actually accentuating his flamboyant, carefree attitude. The only thing out of place was the two thermos containers he was carrying. If he were alone, he could be mistaken as just passing by. Behind him were dozens of individuals, each burly and broad-shouldered, not wearing any matching attire, but their mismatched ensemble added to the mob-like impression. Passersby cleared the way in unison, and this bunch came surging forward, enveloping Helena Wills and all her bodyguards in no time. The bodyguards who had previously been "numerically superior" suddenly seemed like chicks thrown into a wolf’s den, precise with every bite, the contrast shockingly clear. Once they had settled, all the robust men suddenly shouted toward Nora Scott. In unison, their voices were like thunder, deafening. If the venue were larger, they might also uniformly bow to Nora Scott. What the hell kind of operation is this in broad daylight?! Helena Wills went from slightly smug to ashen in a matter of seconds. She suddenly realized that rather than bringing a group to make trouble, it would have been more effective to just call the police. Nora Scott spoke lazily, stepping closer to Helena Wills, raising a slender finger to rub her ear. She asked, "What were you going to do if you’ve got the guts?" Helena Wills widened her eyes, breathing raggedly, unable to utter a single word for a long while. "Nora, Nora, talk it out, don’t scare them." The young man strolled in leisurely from the outskirts, persuading with a smile while setting the thermos containers on the counter. Nora Scott raised a brow at him. Pedro Langley glanced at this owner of the Delicate tattoo shop, who was older than Nora Scott but addressed her with a flattering "Nora" which left him speechless. Clearly, he was a sycophant who had no principles and only flattered Nora Scott, the tyrant. "I’ve brought your meal, you go ahead and eat, I’ll handle these trivial matters," Michael Quinn continued. Nora Scott really left the matter to him. Michael Quinn responded with a sound of acknowledgement, seemed to appraise Pedro Langley with a sense of curiosity, then resumed his look of false geniality as he faced Helena Wills. He elegantly flicked his sleeve and smiled, "The spectacle is a bit much, but you shouldn’t worry, after all, we’re not unreasonable people." Your posse could match two demolition squads and you still have the nerve to say such shameless words?! Helena Wills was so angry she was trembling all over, filled with curses, but she dared not utter a word. Earlier, she had relied on numbers to spew harsh words at Nora Scott; now with the situation completely reversed, all she could think about was how to leave safely. Find the newest release on novel※fire.net Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced furtively toward Nora Scott and suddenly recalled the folding military knife from two hours ago, feeling waves of cold fear. "Thanks to the thriving development of our country, and thanks to safety education, each and every shop along the street has dutifully installed cameras..."