Barnaby was taken aback, unsure if he'd heard right. Hesitant, he asked, "Dad, are you really saying I have to compete with those lowlifes?"

In the past, whenever Barnaby mentioned such matters, Glaucus would tell him to go to the butler and cut off the funds for the Martial League. By the afternoon, the vice president would come running to beg for mercy. But this time, his father hadn't mentioned going to the butler at all. Noticing his son's confusion, Glaucus sighed and explained, "Barney, let me teach you something. When you have a firm grip on your enemy's lifeline, you can be as arrogant as you want. But when that lifeline turns into something insignificant, like a strand of hair, there's no need to keep holding on. It won't make them submit-it'll just enrage them."

Barnaby left the room, still puzzled.

In the quiet study, Glaucus continued his solitary chess game.

"What will your next move be, Matthew Larson?" he murmured to himself, his voice echoing in the room.

Glaucus wasn't just playing chess with himself; his gameboard was the city of Dewsbury, and everyone in it was his pawn. He was constantly analyzing and deducing what Matthew's next move would be.

On a bustling street in Dewsbury, Matthew walked ahead, followed by Shawn, who was practically bouncing with excitement. Shawn's hands were full of snacks and street food.

...

"Boss, boss! Look at this; it's so realistic!" Shawn suddenly called out, squatting down in front of a small street vendor.

Matthew turned to look. The stand was filled with meticulously crafted figurines-characters like Peppa Pig, Mickey Mouse, and Spider-Man-icons beloved by children.

The vendor, a cheerful elderly man in his sixties with thick glasses, smiled at them. "If none of these catch your eye, I can make one to order-same price for a custom piece." Shawn's eyes instantly lit up with interest. "Sir, can you make a figurine of two people together?"

He threw a sneaky glance at Matthew, who seemed distracted, then leaned in close to whisper something into the vendor's ear.

The elderly man chuckled and said, "No problem."

With quick and practiced

movements, the elderly man worked the colorful dough in his hands,

shaping it into long strips. Shawn et

watched in awe, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. It was his first time seeing something like this, and he was clearly fascinated.

"Sir, how long have you been making these figurines?"

Without stopping, the elder answered, "I've been making them for over fifty years. When I first saw a dough figurine, I was just like you-full of wonder." "Why did you start making them?"

A nostalgic look flickered in the old man's eyes, his voice carrying an unspoken emotion. "Because of her."

Shawn immediately understood. This elderly man clearly had a story. He decided not to ask further, not wanting to stir up any painful memories.

"Here you go, young man," the elder said, handing over the completed figures. He had inserted small. wooden sticks into the bottom of each figure before passing them to Shawn.

"Thank you," Shawn said, mischievously grinning as he looked at the figures.

On the two sticks were small dough figures, one of Shawn draping an arm over a smiling Matthew's shoulder like a big brother and the other of Matthew pulling Shawn along with a confident grin on his face.

"What did you buy?" Matthew asked, finally snapping out of his daze.

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