Ronan was waiting for the lackeys but they were not moving. They continued staring at him with hesitation and fright in their eyes.

"What are you both afraid of?" Their leader shouted as he pushed his body up.

He turned toward Ronan, his face still a mask of anger and fury.

"Kid!" He growled. "I admit, you are strong and probably skilled too. But you would not be able to take the three of us together. You have gone overboard."

Ronan kept quiet, his eyes narrowed on them. And this total lack of reaction, this nonchalance of his, was making the man even angrier and frustrated. Ronan’s silence was stinging him. And probably frightening him too.

"Attack together!" The leader shouted and lunged toward Ronan.

His shout snapped the lackeys out of their daze. But even so, they hesitated to make a move. They had seen the kid deal with their boss like it was nothing. And they did not think even the three of them combined could do any real damage to the person in front of them.

But they did not have any other option but to follow their boss. With hesitant intentions, they too jumped toward Ronan.

And Ronan, just like the previous two times, faced absolutely no problem.

The trio was again coming at him in slow motion. At least, in his perspective. And the result did not change.

He ducked the first blow from the lackey and punched straight into his abdomen. The man was sent crashing to the ground, screaming in pain.

They had barely seen him move, and before the first lackey had even touched the ground, the second lackey felt a brutal blow strike his knees. It was agonizing, and he was down on one leg before another blow to his chest sent him down completely.

As for the leader, he was struck the hardest. A single kick to his abdomen and he was almost sent flying.

Within a couple of seconds, the three men had been thoroughly thrashed and were lying on the ground, groaning in pain. They had barely even seen Ronan move. They had stood no chance against him.

The leader was in the greatest pain, as Ronan had not gone easy on him this time, but he still managed the most subdued reaction.

Ronan approached the leader, and the man instinctively brought his hands up over his face to protect himself. But the expected blows or kicks never came. Instead, Ronan kneeled down next to him.

"I want to ask you a certain question," he said, speaking for the first time since his encounter with these thugs began.

"What is it?" The man growled through the pain, anger, and frustration.

"What is your name?" Ronan asked.

The man was shocked. He had thought there would be some intense, secret extracting interrogation, but this was an incredibly simple question. Maybe the tough questions would come later.

He forgot that he did not really have any great secrets that a man of this caliber would be interested in.

"Mark," he answered with a stammer.

"Mark," Ronan repeated.

"So, Mark. This looting and snatching of yours is your primary occupation?" Ronan asked. "Right? You must do this regularly."

The man was getting more and more confused. Where was this even going? Yet, he nodded.

"Yes," he said.

"You must be snatching and looting money and mobiles from people daily?" Ronan pressed.

The man nodded again.

"And at times," Ronan continued, "you must also encounter people who have gold in their pockets, and you loot that too?"

"Yes," Mark responded, getting more and more confused. "If we strike gold, we consider it to be a grand haul."

"Good! Good!" Ronan remarked.

Mark was even more confused. Was he being praised for snatching gold? Was this kid mentally loose or what?

Ronan, on the other hand, pulled out the gold bead from his pocket and dangled it right in front of Mark’s eyes.

"Say," Ronan said. "Consider for a moment that you were successful in looting me and you had gotten this ten gram gold bead off me."

"Where would you have sold it?" He questioned.

Mark’s eyes widened in shock. If he had been successful in his ’primary occupation,’ he truly would have struck gold. Both literally and metaphorically.

A ten gram gold haul would surely be a massive score. But given the terrifying strength and skills Ronan had just displayed, he did not even want to think about it. But why was the boy asking such questions? He had an inkling, a faint guess as to what this was leading to, but he still remained confused.

"I do not think you would be selling it at a jewelry shop," Ronan remarked casually. "That surely would not be safe. Where would you have sold it?" 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Mark was about to open his mouth, but Ronan’s hands suddenly descended. Mark braced himself for a burst of pain, but it never came.

Instead, Ronan simply straightened the collar of the thug’s shirt.

"And only speak the truth," he said in a deadly whisper. "A lie can make your life very, very miserable."

"You would not want to make your life unnecessarily tough, would you?" He added, his voice menacing and threatening.

Mark gulped heavily and nodded.

"As you said, we do not sell it to a jewelry shop," he confessed. "There is way too much risk involved."

"Jewelry pieces have their own unique marks and serial numbers, and a jeweler can easily identify which shop sold it and who bought it. Instead, we sell it to a specific man."

"You can think of him as a big gang leader, quite high up in the local hierarchy. He does not pay the full price but around sixty to seventy percent of the market price," Mark informed him.

"What does he do with the gold?" Ronan asked.

"I do not really know," he replied with a helpless shrug. "We sell, he pays."

Ronan did not say anything else as he stood up, his mind completely lost in contemplation. Meanwhile, Mark was finally given some breathing space. He took deep breaths, calmed his racing emotions, and looked over at his lackeys, who were now leaning against the alley wall in a more comfortable position.

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