Salute To The General (Nathan Cross) novel Chapter 1855

A luxury yacht parked at Moonlight Bay in Channing.

Dressed in a floral shirt, Zachery had his sunglasses on and was alternating between sipping his champagne and taking a puff from his cigar.

He was flanked by two curvy young women in their bikinis.

Standing just a few meters away with their hands straight down their sides were twelve black-suited men of different nationalities and ethnic origins.

These burly men were the formidable Twelve Windstorm Riders.

At that moment, a chubby man bordering on obese was walking rather quickly, causing his heavy gold necklace to dangle wildly on his fleshy chest. With about a dozen fearsome animal-tattooed underlings following closely behind, they hurried onto the superyacht and stopped politely in front of Zachery.

This pudgy man was Toby Duncan, nicknamed Boss Toby.

Ever since the downfall of Dip Turner, Toby had slowly taken over the underworld in the South. In just more than a year's time, he was now the undisputed uncrowned king of the South underworld.

All in all, Toby was regarded as the most powerful person in the South.

However, his status did not stop Toby from feeling exceedingly anxious right now. He looked like a student being sent to the principal's office for coming late to school. “I'm so sorry, Mr.

Hackett. It's rush hour and there was a lot of traffic on the road. I had to get my driver to run a few lights to get here on time, but I still arrived a little late. Please accept my apologies.”

Zachery took a nonchalant look at the man and remarked calmly, “That's okay. Everyone makes mistakes, including me. As long as one learns from his mistake and never repeats it.”

Toby's tense body was just about to relax when Zachery turned to one of his subordinates and asked, “How long was he late for?”

“Mr. Hackett, his appointment with you is at 6 p.m. By the time he arrived here it was already one minute late,” the man replied politely.

Phew, I'm only late for one minute. Thank goodness!

Toby was relieved for a split second when Zachery said flatly, “Since you're late for one minute, I'll take one of your fingers as a form of punishment.”

What? You've got to be kidding me!

Wearing little emotion on his face, the silver-haired man retrieved his blade with his backhand. All that one could see was a momentary flash of the blade.

Before any of Toby's men could react, their throats were slit open while blood started gushing out from the clean-cut lacerations.

They could not even scream out their pain as they now had their hands on their throats, struggling to breathe their last breaths. After a brief moment, they dropped to the floor and died a horrifying death.

“Ahh!” the women in bikinis cried out in terrified voices.

Toby's face turned white as a sheet, his eyes widened with intense fear.

Those who remained behind Toby found their legs turning wobbly. They involuntarily took a few steps back.

Finally, Zachery spoke with the same calmness in his voice, “Drake, leave us.”

The silvered-hair man who answered to the name Drake stood up straight. With his gaze still fixed on Toby, Drake let out an inexplicable smile and licked away a bit of bloodstain on his blade. Slowly, he retreated to resume his initial position behind Zachery.