Frank remembered Terry telling him that the Bleeders had the least members, but they also had the strongest martial artists in Zamri among their ranks. That included the Hansen brothers... although Frank eliminated that pair.

"What is it, Mr. Lawrence? Are you going to war against the Bleeders?" Terry asked over the phone tentatively.

"Uh-huh," Frank replied. "I'm heading to Zomber Tower to meet Kit Jameson. You said it's the Bleeders' territory, yes? You can bring some boys over!"

"Alright!" Terry nodded without hesitation, and Frank could hear him barking over the phone, "Time to earn your paycheck, boys! Mr. Lawrence is kicking down Zomber Tower-if you can move, you're coming along!"

"Wait, don't bring everyone." Frank quickly stopped Terry. "Just bring a handful."

"What? A handful?"

Terry was perplexed. "But, sir... They'll eat us alive with so few of us!"

"Don't worry," Frank replied calmly. "I'm more than enough against the Bleeders. You and your boys are just coming over to clean up the mess."

"Wait, what...?"

Terry was dumbstruck to hear that Frank was going solo.

While he had seen Frank demonstrate his power and knew that Frank was not joking, he still said gingerly, "If you say so, sir. But I insist on bringing some of our boys-we could at least do something if things go bad."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Fine. Just don't bring too many-we don't want to draw attention."

"Yes, Mr. Lawrence!"

With that, Frank hung up and folded his arms before his chest while he rode shotgun.

Peter was immediately fawning over him again. "I didn't know you were acquainted with the Blue Fangs' gang boss! It's like I can finally see the depth of your power!"

"Eyes on the road. And shut up." Frank frowned, while Peter quickly turned silent.

Soon, they arrived at Zomber Tower.

The place was certainly grand, with over a dozen security guards stationed around the lobby.

Still, one could barely call them security guards when they were all really menacing-looking goons who were clearly not to be messed with.

It would only make sense if one understood that this was the Bleeders' gang base, and that one of Zamri's Three Bears was really one of the three major underworld factions of the city. Still, it was impressive that they had their hands on every cookie jar.

Frank was leading Peter inside when one of the burly security guards shoved him.

"Who are you?! Looking for someone?!" he asked bluntly.

Before Frank could speak, Peter was rubbing his hands and flashing a humble smile. "It's me, Peter Lane. What, you don't remember me?"

The security guard certainly could-his question was just to belittle Peter, just as he was wary since he did not recognize Frank.

"Oh, if it isn't the mutt." He smirked. "Sorry, but we usually allow humans and not dogs in here, so forgive me for not recognizing you."

It was a clear insult, and Peter was almost ready to snap.

However, he restrained himself as he remembered his place and forced a smile. "Hehehe... I've brought what Mr. Jameson asked for. Can you let us in?"

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