The base's leadership was at their wits' end. After failing to shift the blame onto each other, they had no choice but to gather and come up with a plan.
Each faction had lost one of its own—whisked away and killed in silence, their bodies then surrounded, beaten, and fought over by a mob. Every member of the leadership feared for their own life. They were all terrified.
"Who the hell is this person? We have to find them. My son will not have died in vain! I'll grind their bones to dust and make them join my son in death!"
Patriarch Hooper slammed his hand on the table, his expression grim. He couldn't compare to the Holloway Family with its numerous heirs. He only had two sons, and the one who had died was his successor. His other son was nothing but a good-for-nothing playboy.
Chairman Holloway said nothing, but his position at that moment was the same as Patriarch Hooper's. They were both pressuring the officials to find the person responsible.
