"Three minutes is more than enough time to empty your master's vault."Caleb Thorne did not panic at all. His ice-cold eyes stared straight at the webcam lens still glowing red on top of the monitor. He picked up a roll of black duct tape lying on the corner of the dirty wooden desk, tore the end using his teeth, then stuck it firmly to cover the worn-out camera lens.The convex monitor screen still displayed a blood-red color. The data transfer processing bar moved forward at an incredibly slow speed.Forty percent. Fifty percent.Cold sweat flowed down past Caleb's temples. He had to remain sitting in this rickety plastic chair. If he pulled out his crypto flash drive before the transfer reached one hundred percent, the entire connection would be forcibly severed. Nolan Reed, the sociopathic hacker on the other end, would immediately obtain his anonymous digital wallet address and block the money forever."Sixty percent," muttered Caleb

"Die in this filthy gutter along with the rest of your arrogance."A stifled groan escaped Caleb Thorne's throat. An incredibly sharp and burning mortal pain had just torn through his military logic. He stared into the eyes of the thug leader, who smiled triumphantly after plunging the rusted screwdriver into his right thigh.Caleb did not waste time screaming. His left arm was already broken and useless. With the remaining strength in his right hand, Caleb grabbed a chunk of red brick lying in a puddle of rainwater. Without the slightest hesitation, he smashed the brick brutally right into the thug's forehead.Smash."That is for your iron gift," hissed Caleb with ragged breath.The thug instantly lost consciousness, falling flat on the asphalt with a torn and blood-soaked forehead. Caleb leaned against the cold brick wall, trying to regulate his chaotic breathing rhythm. Heavy rain continued to pour down on his body, washing away the blood flowing from his arm and leg.Caleb looked

"Three days hiding like a living corpse inside that iron box is more than enough."Caleb Thorne muttered softly while stepping out from the shadows of the port. The light drizzle was still wetting the city asphalt. The burn wound on his right thigh throbbed incredibly painfully every time his foot touched the ground. He was forced to shift his body weight onto a cheap wooden crutch he found at the garbage dump. His three broken ribs still hadn't healed perfectly, forcing his every breath to sound hoarse and short.The former Shadow Emperor walked down the most rundown district in the city. His clothes were dirty with mud and dried blood. He looked exactly like an alcoholic vagrant ready to die on the edge of the gutter. However, inside the pocket of his gray coat, lay a used laptop he bought from the black market using the remaining stolen money from the thug's wallet the other day, and a flash drive containing five million Euros.His limping steps stopped in front of a rusted iron do