Hearing this, Lyle immediately stepped forward and asked, "When did this happen?!"

"Heh, why should I tell—"

"puff"!

Before Torre could finish his words, Lyle punched him in the face. He fell to the ground with his nose crooked.

Torre was stunned: "You fucking——"

Lyle rode on Torre's body and punched him more, and soon Torre's face was covered in blood.

"This is your last chance!" Lyle yelled. "Tell me what's going on!"

Now Torre understood how the wound on Haro's face came about, and he quickly said, "I only know that this trade was jointly conducted by the Contract Land and the black merchants."

"Where are they?!" Lyle yelled, "My son, my wife, and my parents, where are they?!"

"How the hell should I know—" Torre was punched in the face again, and had to control his temper again, "There are only children, no adults!"

No adults?

Lyle froze for a moment, then tried to grab the punch again, yelling, "You're a fucking liar!"

“Why would I lie to you?! There are no adults! There are only children. Just look at this warehouse and you will know! Are there any children here?!” Torre, who was furious, yelled back, “You are also a black marketeer. Don’t you know that only children can be sold at a high price?!”

Lyle's body began to tremble again.

There were no adults, just children.

Where did the adults go?

"Just wait! I'll be back soon, and I'll prove all of you wrong. Everyone!"

The crying face of his wife in his memory gradually turned into a corpse that was corroded beyond recognition.

This made Lyle feel like his heart was being grabbed by an invisible hand, and he couldn't even breathe.

But he resisted the urge to fall down, grabbed Torre by the collar and lifted him up: "Where is the child? Where was he taken?"

"How should I know?"

Another punch.

"I really don't know! Do you think this is a small deal?! Do you know how many people are here?! Do you remember every item you sold?!"

Another punch.

"I really don't know, damn it! Even if you kill me, I won't. It's recorded! It's right behind me!" Torre said, "Every transaction is recorded, and we can know the approximate time and destination. But these are top secrets, even if you are a gold merchant, you can't--."

Torre didn't finish his words. Lyle saw the row of bookshelves in front of him and punched him.

Knocked him out on the spot.

Then he immediately stood up, rushed to the bookshelf and started searching.

His hands were already covered in blood, his own as well as Torre's and Harrow's, but he no longer felt the pain. He just kept searching while constantly reciting in his mind.

There is still a chance, there is still a chance.

Lyle came from an uninhabited area and had never believed in any god, and he had always been proud of it. But now he hoped that he could have some faith, otherwise he would not know who to pray to like he does now.

There must be a chance.

He lost his wife, his parents, and his home.

But as long as my son is still here, there is still hope.

But there were too many records here. Lyle flipped through several books but still couldn't find what he wanted. This made him more desperate and irritable, as if he was looking for a needle in a haystack.