Bane silently crouched down and examined Tracia's body. After a moment, he stood up with a grim expression and said, "She must've encountered a skilled martial artist."

"What kind of master could kill a Rhodes family security chief?" Michael demanded angrily.

Bane remained silent for a moment, his face unusually grave. "At the very least, someone on the level of a junior grandmaster—or maybe even a full grandmaster."

He continued, "The ability to kill Tracia with a single punch is leagues beyond those amateurs who had just learned the basics."

"Come on, Bane, you can't be serious," Michael said in horror. "How could there be a grandmaster hiding in this place?"

To Michael, a grandmaster was practically a living legend—someone even the Rhodes family would show respect. In his mind, those figures were untouchable, being able to kill others without breaking a sweat.

Bane snapped, "I never joke about such a matter. She died at the hands of at least a junior grandmaster."

"Ba