Messing With Her? Are You Crazy! novel Chapter 1507

He made no attempt to hide his probing.

The identity of Joker was not unfamiliar in the international black market.

Arms, special channels, gray trades, and even high-risk supply transports along certain national borders.

Joker had a hand in all of it.

But a figure like him rarely showed up in person.

His sudden boarding of Project Zero-Transit naturally caught the ship's attention.

Julian lowered his eyes, his lips still holding that gentle curve.

He slowly pulled off his black leather gloves.

One finger at a time.

His movements were unhurried, radiating an aristocratic grace.

Despite the lack of overt aggression, Marcus Vane inexplicably felt his chest tighten.

Julian looked up at him, his disguised eyes as mild as ever.

But beneath that mildness lay a layer of chilling darkness.

"Business that requires my personal attendance is, of course, more than just a few crates of guns."

Marcus Vane's eyes flashed. "It seems Mr. Joker has already heard the rumors?"

Julian's smile didn't falter.

He didn't reply, merely tossing his discarded gloves onto the nearby metal counter. "Project Zero-Transit has invited nearly twice as many medical specialists this year."

"If it were just standard pharmaceuticals, you wouldn't need to go to such lengths."

Marcus Vane chuckled nervously. "That batch of medical Living Assets certainly cannot be compared to standard drugs."

As soon as the words left his mouth, his smile froze.

He had slipped up.

Julian seemed oblivious to his reaction, keeping that gentle smile. "Oh? Living Assets?"

Marcus quickly recovered his composure. "Mr. Joker is as sharp as ever. However, Project Zero-Transit has its own rules."

"Before the auction officially begins, no buyer is allowed access to the complete manifest. The specific lots will only be revealed once the bidding starts."

"When the time comes, Mr. Joker will naturally find out."

Julian didn't press the issue.

The High-Stakes Ballroom of the Merchant's Quarter was fully revealed before them.

Crystal chandeliers hung overhead.

Expensive liquors were meticulously displayed.

A band in the corner played a soothing melody.

Waiters in formal attire maneuvered through the crowd, carrying trays of drinks.

If one didn't know where they were, they might easily mistake this for a private gala among the elite.

But with a single glance, Julian saw through the veneer of respectability.

Some had thick calluses on their webbing from firing guns.

Others wore micro-earpieces tucked behind their ears.

A few sported black-market auction house tattoos on their inner wrists.

The bodyguards flanking them seemed quiet, but their positioning was flawless, ready to take a bullet for their employers at a moment's notice.

Everyone permitted in here was a player truly qualified to sit at the high-stakes table of the global underground.