Actually, whether George kissed Ethan’s ring or not no longer mattered.
When he rushed to the Bolita Clan’s estate like the wind, the matter was already settled.
The only outco people knew was that the Evans family had lost to the Bolita family.
And, never provoke the Bolita Clan, otherwise, the consequences would be dire.
George was the best proof of that.
After sending off George, Ethan didn’t go to sleep.
He was reflecting on and reviewing everything that had happened recently.
Proposing to George about that factory was indeed a spur-of-the-mont thought, but it wasn’t because he was truly interested in any crafts, rather he discussed it with Anya, and they both agreed that on the surface, the factory was for processing crafts, but secretly it was definitely used for making illegal alcohol.
Because the timing of its establishnt was wrong.
Recently, the most profitable business was illegal alcohol. The Evans family wasn’t a charity; they couldn’t have spent so much money and ti on sothing with no return.
George’s later reaction also showed that their deduction was correct.
This was a good deal.
Even though there was an illegal alcohol factory beneath the Beauty Bay, its scale was destined to be too small, even though it could barely cope with the current situation, future supply would be difficult.
To build a new illegal alcohol factory would require massive financial investnt, site selection, various procedures, and hidden thods, all of which were troubleso.
Now, George had directly delivered to him a place with all the processes completed and even the personnel hired.
George was a good person.
After thinking for a while, Ethan made a call to Sandro, briefly explaining his idea of wanting the Evans family to join the business as well.
To this, Sandro rely said that since the business was proposed by Ethan, he could handle it however he wished.
Sandro was an old fox indeed.
Ethan couldn’t fathom what he was thinking.
The long night was endless, and Ethan had no intention of sleeping.
So, after asking Anya to make another pot of tea, he began experinting with his newest ability.
This was what he had suddenly realized in the interrogation room of the Security Office, using words to provoke others into violence.
This was definitely a new direction; if he could use it skillfully enough, and the power of this ability increased, in the future, a single sentence might destroy an enemy battalion.
But Anya obviously wasn’t cooperative enough.
It was uncertain whether her will was too tenacious or her loyalty to Ethan too high, but no matter how he tried to provoke her with words, it was ineffective.
Just as he was planning to try on a few other subordinates, he suddenly felt an incredibly fierce malice approaching.
He imdiately drew his gun and aid at the direction of the balcony.
That malice was coming from that direction.
Anya, without needing Ethan to say anything, also drew her gun.
Silence.
A minute passed.
The balcony door opened, and a figure darted inside.
Just as Ethan was about to pull the trigger, that person spoke with a voice that was both unfamiliar yet familiar.
"Don’t shoot, don’t shoot, it’s , it’s , your Uncle Klei. Good lad, so sharp."
It was Kreine.
He was still dressed in that shirt and suspenders get-up, completely unfazed by the cold, instead possessing an aura of fiery energy.
"Klei, why are you here?"
Ethan lowered his gun.
"You forgot, I said last night that I would bring you The Truth Newspaper."
Klei said as he took a roll of newspaper from his coat and waved it at Ethan.
"Close the door. Next ti, rember to use the front door." Ethan said sowhat grumpily.
"Will do next ti." Klei chuckled, then as if rembering sothing, clapped his hands, and said, "Oh right, kid, you’ve really outdone yourself, getting George to co to your ho and confess his mistakes. That’s sothing even your father couldn’t do. If he knew, he’d probably be so happy he’d climb out of his grave."
Speaking of the grave, he paused for a mont.
"I’ve already paid my respects at his grave today."
"The news travelled that fast outside?" Ethan was a bit surprised.
"Not just quickly, ever since last night, everyone has been watching George. Now he’s beco the biggest joke in the underground world of Wenster."
Klei gestured as if laughing, but Ethan extended his hand for the newspaper.
That result had already been within his expectations, and he no longer cared.
Klei sowhat reluctantly handed the newspaper to Ethan.
The Truth Newspaper.
Unlike ordinary newspapers, just by reading the text, Ethan felt sothing odd, as if the words on the paper were alive, twisting gently.
"Anya, co look at this with ."
"Can she understand it?" Klei asked, slightly doubtful, then imdiately added, "I don’t an it like that. This paper can only be seen by those with True Nas. To ordinary people, it’s just a blank sheet."
"She’s already soone with a True Na."
"Is she? How co I didn’t sense it. She’s hiding her aura well." Klei said, looking at Anya with so doubt.
Anya ignored him, just focusing on the newspaper.
"Who published this newspaper?"
"The True Eye. See, it’s this symbol." Klei pointed to a large vertical eye pupil beside The Truth Newspaper words on the paper.
This eye was designed with a very ancient style, resembling art from at least three centuries ago.
Ethan judged with his past life’s experience.
Staring at this eye for a while gave a sense of dizziness, and it felt like it was watching you as well.
"Don’t look at it too long; it watches you too. Being watched by the True Eye isn’t a good thing." Klei directly covered the eye.
"Is the True Eye a secret society?"
"Correct, it’s also a type of true na." Klei said as he turned to the second page, which featured nothing but a long list of true nas.
"These are the known true na types discovered worldwide."
Ethan counted roughly, there were a total of fifteen types.
The True Eye was ranked fifth, its first true na being the Cold Observer, followed by a string of twisted, worm-like script that Ethan couldn’t understand at all.
Just looking at this string of text made Ethan feel uncomfortable, yet faintly, he sensed his "True God’s Na" resonating, as if in harmony.
"Is this the ancient language?"
"Correct." Klei nodded, then slid his finger down to the second-to-last row and stopped, saying.
"This is our true na type."
It was nad: Destruction God.
The first true na listed was the User of Violence, which was thug, followed by the Integrator of Violence, leader, but the third true na was absent, only a common phrase Black Saint was marked with a question mark.
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