His Lordship Alexander Kane by Useless Caesar

Chapter 0195

After exiting the bar, Alexander zipped away in his Porsche. Within minutes, they were checking into

the sleek Lifestyle Hotel.

“Brother-in-law,” Yaser said, steadying the young woman. He fished a phone from her purse, unlocked

it with her fingerprint, and scrolled through the contacts before handing it over with a rueful grin. “Check

this out.”

Alexander eyed the phone screen, his expression flickering with surprise.

The contacts were a roll call of whimsical monikers-Pikatchoo. Ultroman, Fairy… They looked like

buddies.

from a chat room, not a single traditional name in sight.

“Kids these days, huh?”

Alexander shook his head with a smile, pulled out his phone from his pocket, took a frontal photo of the

girl,

and edited a multimedia message before sending it off.

[To: Maxine Griffith]

The message was brief and to the point. [Find out who this person is, get her family’s contact info, and

do it

now!]

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In just under three minutes, Alexander’s phone buzzed with a response from Maxine, the Duke of War.

[Her name is Acela Hardy, 22 years old. Her dad’s Drake Hardy, also known as Mister Hardy. Used to

run things in Woolpackton’s shadows. His personal cell is…]

“She’s Mister Hardy’s daughter?”

Alexander eyed the text, then looked over at the young woman still groggy from her night out. After a

moment’s thought, he dialed the number Maxine dug up, using Acela’s phone to reach out to Drake.

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At the Tormora Festival, right in the bustling heart of Woolpackton, stood the Rectewald Mall-the

biggest entertainment complex around.

The massive structure soared 140 stories high, dominating the city’s skyline. It sprawled across an

area the size of twenty-plus football fields, and behind the main edifice lay an old-fashioned manor

where Drake

enjoyed his retirement, focusing on personal well-being.

In the manor’s garden, beneath a pavillon shaded by verdant foliage, a man in a sharp suit pushed a

wheelchair. Three middle-aged men stood by his side, heads bowed in deference, all wearing

expressions of deep respect as they faced the elderly Drake.

The once-revered boss of Province Town, a silver-haired man in his early sixties, lounged in the

bamboo- shaded pavilion, a serene smile on his face. Across from him, a thin elder in a simple blue

robe shared in the easy conversation, both savoring their tea with evident pleasure, oblivious to the five

men waiting outside.

“Mister Hardy, the night has grown deep. It’s time for your rest.”

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Time slipped by until the slender elder, Wilhelm tidled the tea set and-with a gentle smile-gestured

toward the men below. “Should I send them away? They’ve been on their feet for more than three

hours. They’ve had a

long wait.”

With a warm smile, Drake whispered, “Invite them over. I’m curious to hear what they have to say.”

With a nod, Wilhelm approached the pavilion and addressed the five heavyweights of Woolpackton’s

shadowy corners with a dismissive grunt. “Mister Hardy will see you now. Speak only what’s necessary,

and keep silent

on all else. Cross Mister Hardy, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The men locked eyes, a shared fear evident in their gaze.

They were Mark, head of the Hudson family, Raine, the Schneider family’s second in command,

Tommy, the reigning kingpin of Woolpackton’s underworld, Harry, bound to his wheelchair, and Tony,

his steadfast pusher

Together, they could turn Province Town’s underworld upside down, but in Drake’s presence, they were

as

meek as church mice.

“Mister Hardy.”

Side by side, they approached the man who had left their world a decade ago.

Tommy, the de facto leader, stepped forward with a respectful bow. “Boss, you’ve been out of the game

for ten years. We wouldn’t normally intrude, but…”

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He paused for a moment, stealing a glance at Wilhelm beside him. Seeing no sign of anger, he dared

to

continue, “Lately, over at Ol’ Mare…”

He laid out the whole saga. The shake-up of Ol’ Mare’s shadowy ranks, New Chesire Group’s rise to

power, and their rough dealings with Alexander. He left no stone unturned.

“Alexander?”

Drake, cradling a glass of water, mulled over the name before dismissing the matter with a flick of his

wrist.

Got it. You can go now.”

The five men looked at each other, reluctant to move.

Harry, gripping the arms of his wheelchair, bit down hard, his face twisted with bitterness. “Mister

Hardy, you might’ve stepped back, but everyone knows you’re still the boss of Province Town! That jerk

Alexander, my brother Patrick’s son-in-law, has been strutting around Province Town like he owns the

place, showing no

respect for you…”

Before Harry could finish, Wilhelm’s face turned to ice. With a swift, unseen move, a sword flashed out,

its tip stopping just shy of Harry’s throat.

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“I told you: say only what needs to be said. Not one word more,” Wilhelm’s voice cut through the air, as

chilling and sharp as his sword. “Utter one more peep, and your head will roll.”

Silence enveloped the estate.

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That old man, Wilhelm, known as Ghost Sword, was Drake’s top titan with a grim tally of lives taken

that was

well into the double digits.

Every member in the branches of the underworld knew to fear the Ghost Sword. Even before Drake

hung up his

spurs, the Ghost Sword was a legend, a master of his vital energy with personal prowess that was

enough to

intimidate the entire branch.

“Wilhelm, don’t spook them,” Drake said, his voice calm as he gestured for Ghost Sword to back off. He

then looked over at Harry and the crew with a soft but firm tone. “I’ve stepped out of the game, but I

won’t let an outsider throw their weight around in Province Town. He goes by Alexander, doesn’t he?

Wilhelm, why don’t you pay him a visit and…handle it.”

He was cut off mid-sentence.

Right then, Drake’s phone buzzed like crazy in his pocket, a sure sign someone was trying to reach

him.

“Huh?!”

He fished out an old flip phone, its plastic case wom from years of use, and his eyes sparked to life

when he

saw the name on the screen.

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It was his daughter, Acela!

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