The hall was brightly lit.
The hall was crowded with people, all once key figures within the Mafia. With the death of Parker and Riche, these people had no choice but to bow to the new young master, or else the flying knife in the hand of that extraordinarily skilled woman was not to be trifled with; the bodies piled at the door were those who attempted to resist and were instantly killed.
These people dared not act rashly anymore.
And where was their new master? Nestled in the arms of a young boy, sound asleep. A child naturally couldn't make them willingly submit, but a glance at the man seated in the center of the sofa caught their attention. Dressed in a pure white robe, like frost, with long legs crossed over the other, even a casual posture exuded endless nobility, luxurious laziness, and an imposing aura.
The man had his eyes lowered, playing idly with a dagger in his slender fingers, appearing both lazy and indifferent.
