Chapter 1949


    There was a dimly lit office on the other side of the underground arena. It belonged to Fat Jim, who


    loved the dark.


    At that moment, he held a cigar while shaking his legs on the table. The vinyl yer was broken, but


    that did not stop him from smiling.


    The case of cash in front of him was the source of his happiness. He didn''t calcte how much money


    there was, but he knew it was the amount that made him happy. He didn''t care who the person trading


    with him was. All he knew was that it didn''t matter if Morpheus died—his profit was endless.


    -


    Earlier.


    Property of N?)(velDr(a)ma.Org.


    "Kill Morpheus."


    That was the first thing the mysterious man said as soon as he came in.


    Fat Jim was stunned at first, thinking that the man hade to the wrong ce. Just when he was


    about to get his men to chase him out, the man ced the case agilely on the table.


    The cash in the case made one fall into a daze.


    Fat Jim frowned. "What''s this..."


    "You''re the boss of this underground arena. You call the shots for who lives and dies." The man


    chuckled. "I''ll give you more if this isn''t enough to buy Morpheus'' life. Name your price."


    Fat Jim picked up a stack with his chubby hand. The cash was new—there was a smell of ink, a smell


    that would charm one''s heart.


    "You underestimated me, sir." Fat Jim tossed the cash back into the case. "I won''t betray my buddy!"


    "You consider Morpheus your buddy?" The man smirked. "Don''t go blowing your own trumpet."


    Fat Jim''s eyes dimmed, and he smiled slyly.


    "Morpheus'' life is valuable." Fat Jim scoffed. "He hasn''t made enough money for me, so how would I


    bear to let him die? Do you think a case of cash is enough to buy the life of the yer of the boxing


    ring?"


    "I told you to name your price." The man''s voice was cold, "There are fighters everywhere, but you


    won''t find the opportunity to make fast money lying around!"


    Fat Jim nced at him. The man had a cold bearing, and his skin was terrifyingly fair.


    Morpheus was cold, as well as intimidating. However, he was a gunpowder barrel beneath the snow


    mountain that could explode at anytime.


    This man was different. He was like a millennial corpse, a cursed mummy. People would get a fortune


    for getting close, but they might die, too.


    Nevertheless, Fat Jim loved money more.