Wen Renche's thick lashes quivered slightly, then he slowly opened his eyes. His calm, indifferent gaze met theirs without a shred of hesitation. "Tomorrow."
Ming Fu had already expected this. He sighed helplessly and protested, "Boss, if you leave now, everything we've worked for will go to waste."
The difficulty of reaching this point was something all three present were acutely aware of.
If the opponent were to seize an opportunity at this critical juncture, they might find it nearly impossible to recover.
"I know." A hint of a hidden glint flickered through Wen Renche's eyes as he picked up the cigar resting on the table. With a faint 'scratch,' the match flared to life.
The warm glow of the flame lit up his face, casting ripples of light and shadow on the golden-rimmed glasses, reflecting a warm radiance in his eyes.
The man exhaled a puff of smoke, masking his expression behind the hazy white mist. Only his intoxicating voice could be heard: "Just two days."
