Even the elusive intel on the Ten Elders had been shared. So when Vega inquired about a lesser-known family that owned a hotel in the Sky Arena, the middle-aged informant had no reason to withhold the details.
After securing the information, a new thought crossed Vega's mind.
"If their intel is considered above top-secret… what about their bounty?" he asked casually. "I wonder—what's the reward on the heads of the Ten Elders?"
The informant shook his head slowly. "There isn't one. Not officially."
"They're the kings of the underworld. No ordinary person would dare issue a bounty on them."
Vega chuckled. "Come on, I don't buy it. You're telling me not a single enemy with a grudge ever tried?"
The man sighed. "The truth is, no respectable information network would dare accept such contracts. It would be a declaration of war. Even assassin families steer clear. No one's stupid enough to provoke the Elders."
He paused for a beat, then added, "Of course, that's the word on the street. How much of it's true… who knows?"
Vega narrowed his eyes.
That doesn't track.
He distinctly remembered from his past life—the Ten Elders had been completely wiped out by the Zoldyck family.
Yet according to this man, no major faction had ever dared to accept a bounty on them. And the Zoldycks, in particular, supposedly refused contracts involving the Elders.
Then why did Zoldyck assassins storm through Yorknew City later on and obliterate the Elders?
And if memory served, the Ten Elders had strong ties with Meteor City. They'd long benefited from Meteor Street's influx of manpower and influence. But in the Yorknew City arc, the Phantom Troupe attacked the Elders' private auction—was that really just a heist?
Or was it an assassination cloaked as theft?
Were the items just a smokescreen?
Vega rubbed his temple. The deeper he went, the murkier it got. Nothing aligned with the narrative he thought he knew. The truth behind the Elders… ran far deeper than he'd expected.
Eventually, with these tangled thoughts in mind, Vega left the informant's base and began preparing his next move—his operation against the Monroe family.
Meanwhile…
News of the deaths of Sickdog and Leech had already reached the ears of the Ten Elders.
Lord Monroe's bellow echoed through the room.
"Yin Beasts, masters? They're goddamn trash! Two of them couldn't even take down a single man?!"
His fists trembled with rage.
"I should've never let those two wastes join the Yin Beasts in the first place."
Enraged, Monroe slammed his fist on the table and picked up his phone.
"Let's see how the others handle this—send the entire squad. I want that bastard Vega pengellet corpse dragged to my feet!"
He dialed a secure line and barked into the receiver.
"Your Yin Beasts are a disgrace. Two of them went after one target and got themselves killed. You've stained the name of the Yin Beasts!"
"I'm giving you one chance to redeem your honor. Mobilize every single Yin Beast. Find that Pendleton punk and rip him apart!"
A calm, resigned voice replied, "Lord Monroe, we Yin Beasts are more than willing to tear that Vega Pendleton limb from limb… but we can't follow your command at the moment."
Monroe's eyes turned bloodshot. "You dare defy an Elder's order? Falcon, you'd better have a damn good reason, or you'll bear my full wrath alone!"
Falcon's voice came steady but firm.
"The other Nine Elders have frozen all Yin Beast operations. We are under strict orders not to engage Vega Pengellet until further notice."
"WHAT?!" Monroe slammed his phone on the table, veins bulging on his forehead.
He was livid—but quickly reined in his emotions.
If the other nine had acted in unison… this wasn't just about revenge anymore.
The fact that they would halt his authority over the Yin Beasts hinted at deeper motives. He'd always known the other Elders had competing agendas. They may have been partners, but trust among them was wafer-thin.
Just as suspicion began bubbling up in Monroe's mind, another phone rang—a distinct red phone.
That line was exclusive, used only for internal communication between the Elders.
His face darkened as he walked over and picked it up.
"What the hell is the meaning of this? Why am I not allowed to deploy the Yin Beasts?"
A deep, authoritative voice answered.
"Monroe, you've lost your composure. After a unanimous vote, we've decided the Yin Beasts will stand down for now. We need an explanation—from you."
Monroe let out a bitter laugh.
"You're asking me for an explanation? My son was murdered! You expect me to sit on my hands?!"
The voice responded firmly. "We sympathize with your loss, but that does not justify your irresponsible action. The Yin Beasts are shared assets, not your personal hit squad. The death of two operatives—Sickdog and Leech—falls on your shoulders. You must account for it."
"Furthermore," the voice continued, "Elders Campbell and Spencer have called for a full council meeting."
"And the rest of us… have agreed."
Monroe's eyes burned, but he forced a tight smile.
"Fine," he growled. "Let's lay everything out… at the meeting."