Across the vast ocean, there were four countries: coastal Kewa, neighboring Island, and two completely landlocked countries, Pujivang and Yamae.
Island was not completely landlocked; its territory was divided into the East and South regions, with its narrow, elongated shape bordering the coastline on both ends.
Among the four nations' governments, only Island was a land of abundance, owing to its favorable geography and temperate climate, with spring-like weather year-round. The mountains are neither steep nor treacherous, but stretch endlessly, forming a harmonious landscape where the mountains embrace the water.
Therefore, all the luxury homes were built along the mountains, shaded by green trees and surrounded by birds and flowers, with nearly all the scenic beauty in view.
Thus, among the four countries, high-ranking officials and prominent families all chose to purchase properties in Island, with the higher the mountain, the more desirable the property.
In Island, it is a paradise for the wealthy and powerful. Abyss and Destiny each control the territories of the East and South districts, respectively. The Destiny, an old-established gang, has lost much of its ground to the rising Abyss, yet it still firmly controls half of the Four Nations.
Thus, the Abyss and the Destiny are at a tense breaking point, each refraining from interfering with the other.
Arabella brought her group into Island, heading directly to the South district, where the Destiny was located.
They split into two groups: Raven led his team into the narrow alleys of the tenement buildings to hide, while Arabella, bold and unhidden, rented a luxurious mansion halfway up the mountain.
After several peaceful days, Quentin had almost forgotten about Arabella and her business.
Marcellus had already returned to his homeland. His main purpose in coming this time was not only to visit his old friend, but also to discuss the marriage between his sister, Ivy and himself.
The marriage between the Ackerley and the Darnley had been arranged long ago. Marcellus, young and ambitious, had taken control of the family business early on. Now, he held a position of great power and influence.
The Darnley had long been intent on cleaning up their image, hoping to leverage the Ackerley's power to expand in the political and business fields of the Four Nations.
On this day, he invited several individuals involved in the political scene to dinner. After a hearty meal and plenty of drinks, they moved on to a high-end club run by the Destiny.
Seven or eight hostesses surrounded a few government officials, drinking and singing, creating a lively scene.
Quentin sat on the side, smoking a cigarette, watching everything unfold.
He happened to spot the customs immigration director, which reminded him of the Arabella matter.
"I wonder, has your officer caught any terrorists sneaking across the border recently?"
The customs director was taken aback by Quentin's question. After a brief pause, he laughed and shook his head, "Master Darnley, you must be joking. With your help, how could there be any terrorists?"
Half flattery, half truth.
Quentin chuckled, not paying it much mind.
But that evening, Quentin received a call informing him that all the officials who attended the banquet had met with incidents.
The police had sealed off several locations, setting up barricades and prohibiting any bystanders, including journalists, from entering.
The scenes were just too gruesome.
Five officials—three of whom were found dead in their own homes.
It seemed they were ambushed shortly after returning home.
Two of them, whose children were grown and living separately, had only their spouses at home, and both were found with their throats slit.
Another was relatively younger, with a son who was still underage. The family of three— the child and the woman— were hanged to death at the doorway. The man seemed to have tried begging for mercy, kneeling on the ground, but was shot in the back of the head.
The crime scenes at all three houses were clean of fingerprints; the murders were swift, leaving almost no traces. It was clearly a premeditated crime.
In comparison, the deaths of the other two were even more tragic.
The two were acquaintances who lived together in a high-end residence at the foot of the mountain. Both had drunk a lot, so members of the Destiny drove them home.
Reportedly, due to a bend in the road blocking visibility, they were caught between two massive dump trucks.
The car was crushed into pieces, and the scene was horrifically bloody, causing some of the responding officers to faint and vomit.
One of the victims' heads had flown several meters away. Parts of the bodies were so crushed that it was impossible to identify whose limbs were whose.
The scene was like a slaughterhouse, bloody and filled with scattered body parts.
The branch leader of this Destiny territory, arrived on orders, only to hear the sharp buzz of chainsaws as the stretched luxury car was compressed into a block. Firefighters went in pale-faced and came out even paler.
The drivers of the trucks were detained, suspected of severe drunk driving. They couldn't even recall their own driving actions.
Ambulances and forensic examiners stood by, creating a tense atmosphere at the scene.
"Check if those two drivers have any connection with Abyss, and have our men monitoring Abyss's territory report their activities today."
The branch leader thought clearly; his first reaction was that Abyss was behind this, and they'd used skilled hands.
After all, the actions were too swift, too clean, too bloody—a level far beyond common thugs.
But after a night of investigation, it was found that Abyss hadn't deployed anyone and wasn't even aware of the Destiny incident in the south. Those two drunk drivers had no ties to Abyss, so clearly, it wasn't his doing.
Quentin listened to the report, his expression dark and silent.
Whoever the perpetrators were, be it Abyss or another force, acting so openly on his turf was a blatant slap in the face and a deliberate provocation against the Destiny.
Quentin immediately thought of Arabella.
But Arabella had never met him and had no connection with him.
Such a ruthless move from the other side showed complete disregard for the Destiny.
From what he had heard, Arabella acted discreetly and never actively participated in local faction conflicts.
But if it wasn't Arabella, then who had the ambition and audacity to act so brazenly on his turf?
While Quentin mobilized every branch in the southern Island district to search for the culprits, Arabella was cooling off in her mansion.
She lay comfortably on a sun lounger in a short outfit, holding an ice bucket, chewing on ice cubes one by one.
The ice shattered in his mouth, crystal clear, and because his mouth was too small to hold it all, the water trickled down, sparkling in the sunlight.
"Master Unknown, Raven has sent a message, and everything in the preliminary stage is handled." Bramwell bent down, his gaze briefly flicking over the corner of Arabella's mouth before quickly shifting away.
Arabella lazily hummed, not surprised at Raven's ability to handle things.
She casually patted the small stool beside her, signaling Bramwell to sit down.
Bramwell had, of course, heard rumors about what Raven and the others had done. In the past, when he followed his boss and guarded the Rus stronghold, he hadn't encountered such thrilling situations.
Seeing Arabella's calm and steady demeanor, he knew she didn't care in the slightest.
Life was something so light in her heart.
It seemed like nothing more than a trivial matter, neither painful nor significant.
Suddenly, Arabella reached out and wrapped her arm around Arabella's neck, casually whispering with a smile, "Let's go out tonight."
Bramwell lowered his gaze, silently drinking the strong liquor in his hand in one go.
The liquor burned as it went down, but it helped suppress the unease that rose in his chest.
"Alright. I'll follow Master Unknown's orders."
