But reputation is a serious matter. If someone dared to lay a hand on a member of their family today, they would dare to directly target others tomorrow. No one in power would permit such an occurrence. So, the faction that attacked Anthony and his group would find it very difficult to sell the gold, even if they obtained it. Their only option would be to smuggle it out incrementally, like ants moving grains. But even then, the risk was significant.

Things aren't like they used to be. In this digital age, all information is interconnected, forming a vast net. In every region, the trade and circulation of precious metals typically maintain a stable baseline. Any significant fluctuation is easily detected. Therefore, attacking a major power with international influence is foolish unless you're an entity of comparable strength. Otherwise, even if successful, disposing of the stolen goods is extremely risky.

Dean rolled down the car window and, rather crudely, flicked his cigarette butt out, letting out a sigh.

So much time had passed with no results. It looked grim for Anthony this time.

Seeing his gloomy mood, Carol reassured him, "Mr. Anthony, it's also possible he encountered the third scenario."

Dean shrugged. "You don't actually believe some far-fetched theory about a natural magnetic field causing a group of well-equipped men to vanish without a trace, offering no resistance, do you?"

"It's unlikely, but it's possible!" Carol knocked on the partition in front of her, revealing a hidden LCD screen. She then tapped on it, displaying an irregular yellow area filled with countless fine lines.

"Dean, have you heard of Bermuda?"

"I have. Ships and planes often go missing there."

"According to research from the Commonwealth's Royal Academy of Sciences, a peculiar magnetic field exists in that region. This field causes volatile climate changes, creating a unique zone that not only makes ships and planes lose their bearings but also has even more terrifying effects!"

Carol's tone was grave and earnest.

Dean's interest was piqued. He sat up straighter. "What kind of effects?"

Just as Carol was about to speak, the elderly driver suddenly coughed and pulled the car over to the side of the road.

Carol looked at the old man with dissatisfaction. "Hey, Dean is also associated with the Academy; he has sufficient clearance to know certain things!"

"But Anthony didn't bring him back to the Academy, did he?"

After he finished speaking, the old man looked at Dean apologetically. "Sorry, kid. Even though this might make you feel like an outsider, rules are rules. This is for Carol's good too. I can only tell you that it's indeed possible Anthony and his men went missing due to reasons related to a magnetic field. Now, you can get out."

Dean glanced at the old man, then at Carol—who looked like she wanted to speak but hesitated. He nodded, pushed open the car door, and stepped out onto the rain-slicked street.

Carol, looking resigned, could only lower the window. Her fingers trembled nervously, her face apologetic. "I'm sorry, Dean. For certain reasons, I'm not as free as you might think. Regardless, I'll keep following Mr. Anthony's situation. If there's any news, I'll inform you immediately!"

Dean's gaze swept over Carol's fidgeting fingers, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I understand. I'll probably head back to the United States Federation in a couple of days. It was nice meeting you, Carol."

"You too!"

CLICK.

The old driver mercilessly operated the remote to close the window, cutting off their farewell. He then floored the accelerator, and the car sped off, vanishing from Dean's sight.

Dean watched the car disappear, then lowered his head and murmured, "Siren?"

Carol's final finger movements weren't from unease; she was conveying a message to him. Piecing it together, Dean deduced 'Siren.' The information Carol wanted to pass on was likely hidden within the symbolism of that mythological creature.

"Interesting," Dean chuckled, pulling another cigarette from his pocket. He placed it between his lips, about to light it.

CLICK.

Beside him, a small hand in a seamless black silk glove, holding an exquisite kerosene lighter shaped like a sacred angel, lit his cigarette.

Dean took a deep drag and looked at the owner of the arm. Then he froze.

"Niel?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

The woman before him bore a striking resemblance to Niel, yet she was far more mature, exuding an aura of sharp competence that warned she wasn't to be trifled with.

CLICK.

The woman snapped the lighter shut. Her tone was brusque. "This is our first meeting. I am Niel's mother. I believe we need to have a serious talk."

Dean was momentarily speechless. His heart hammered in his chest, and his usually glib tongue felt tied. He managed a strained smile. "Um... were you following me?"

Niel's mother shook her head. "I was on my way to buy a gun. I'd just gotten out of my car when I saw you getting out of yours across the street."

Buying a gun... It feels like she bought it specifically for me... Damn it! That old codger, he did this on purpose! Parking right across the street from Niel's mother!

Strictly speaking, Dean and Niel's mother were related, both sharing the blood of the Lucchese Family. However, they had never interacted before. The crucial part was Niel's mother mentioning buying a gun. Ten to one, she knew about his escapade last night. This is going to be tough.

Even for a seasoned operator like Dean, ambushed by a situation more awkward than any soap opera confrontation and with Niel's mother having seized the initiative, he was momentarily lost for words.

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