CHAPTER 720: CHAPTER 720: WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU

Jasper Sinclair’s demeanor, from the moment he entered to when he sat down, remained unrestrained, as if he was unafraid of Mr. Shepherd sitting opposite him.

This realization inexplicably allowed Nora Northwood to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I take the people off the yacht, and what happened today can be considered as never having happened."

"Jasper Sinclair, do you think, having boarded this yacht, that I would give you the opportunity to disembark?"

"Bang——" Before everyone could react, the card table had already been shoved towards Jasper Sinclair by Mr. Shepherd.

If not for Rhys Linden, who timely used his foot to block it, Jasper might have been injured.

At this moment, his handsome face already turned gloomy, "Calling you Mr. Shepherd, considering you as half an elder, don’t actually stick gold on your own face."

His tone was quite unpleasant.

Even Nora rarely saw him lose his temper; he was a man whose emotions were usually undetectable.

Opposite, Mr. Shepherd was not influenced by his anger, as if possessing enough confidence to keep them trapped on the yacht.

Both sides were at a stalemate.

Mr. Shepherd took a final draw from his cigar, his expression of enjoyment akin to drug addiction.

In the blink of an eye, Rhys Linden moved to focus on his expression.

"Tell your yacht to stop."

The cold muzzle of a gun pressed against Mr. Shepherd’s temple, yet he leisurely extinguished the cigarette butt, completely unfazed.

This action was something most of the people present had not anticipated.

Rhys Linden didn’t appear very serious; usually mingling in venues filled with smoke and alcohol, his usual demeanor was casual and carefree, unimaginable he would be someone adept with guns.

"Forgot to tell you, this yacht isn’t mine. It might be sailing out several hundred nautical miles more. If you act rashly here, we can all just feed the sharks together, okay?"

Mr. Shepherd’s tone was relaxed; life and death, in his eyes, weren’t matters of grave significance.

He ignored the gun at his head, then smashed the whiskey glass in his hand on the floor with a "smash."

Less than a second after the sound fell, a group of people rushed in from the door, each holding a gun.

In the blink of an eye, they were at a disadvantage.

Rhys Linden looked down, glanced at his pant leg, wetted by the whiskey, which clung stickily to his ankle.

Retracting his gaze, he spat out, "The source of your batch of guns isn’t legit, is it?"

Mr. Shepherd dismissed it, "Whether it’s legit or not, isn’t important. What’s important is, a shot can blow a head off, and today, no one’s walking away!"

Towards the end, he began to speak fiercely, the bloodshot in his eyes making it hard for anyone to look him in the eye.

Jasper Sinclair interjected, "Small-time mobster, if you’ve got the guts, shoot."

His tone was nonchalant, as if deliberately provoking Mr. Shepherd. He was gambling that this old man wouldn’t dare to shoot.

Once a shot was fired, the group of guests in the banquet hall would immediately hear the commotion.

Everyone who stepped aboard this yacht was either rich or influential, and any single one was not someone the Shepherd Family could afford to offend.

To speak precisely, the Mr. Shepherd before them wasn’t considered a very formidable figure in the underworld.

Jasper Sinclair had gambled correctly.

His eyes narrowed, his facial expression turned two shades colder, but beyond that, there was no change.

"I can let Yvonne Shepherd off, with the condition that these girls disembark safely. Three people for your sister’s life, that calculation doesn’t put the Shepherd Family at a loss."

Mr. Shepherd wore a grin that wouldn’t fully form, "Why should I believe what you say."

"No particular reason. I’ve laid my words here, whether you believe it or not, it’s up to you."