The car had just exited the airport via a special channel.
The view outside the window began to open up.
In the dim light, several armored trucks were neatly parked on the open ground.
Two rows of young people in riot gear stood on both sides of the road, standing tall and looking straight ahead without a glance elsewhere.
On the main road.
The black sedan carrying Hugo Hayes had stopped.
Callum Johnson leaned back in his seat, his features once again hidden in shadow, finding a comfortable position and crossing his arms: "I knew it, Hugo Hayes wouldn't make it easy for us to meet him."
"I don't like this guy, we should just kill him."
The night in Kingsford City, without a single star.
A breeze stirred, causing the leaves in the greenbelt to rustle subtly.
In the back of the car.
Byron Johnson was also squinting, staring at the vehicles blocking their path ahead, and that savage aura from the battlefield was unmistakably exposed in an instant.