Deafening heavy bass roared recklessly through the underground theater, while crimson spotlights sliced through the air, thick with a nauseating concentration of pheromones. But above the stage, within the absolute privacy of the VIP sector, the God of Death had already descended in perfect silence.
The semi-open VIP box at the dead center of the first row was cordoned off by a black velvet rope. Four bodyguards in tight black tactical suits stood like iron towers at the entrance. Their eyes were cold, their temples bulging, faintly exuding the Aetheric fluctuations of [Tier 3: Awakened]. In Sancta Lodo, these were elite killing machines.
Seeing Caspian casually approaching, the lead bodyguard instantly rested his hand on his bulging holster, growling coldly, "Get lost. This is the absolute private domain of the Thorne family..."
He never got the chance to finish his sentence.
Caspian's gaze didn't linger on these mortals for even a millisecond. He didn't break his stride, nor did he raise a hand to strike. He simply stepped over the velvet rope.
[Gravity Subjugation].
There was no deafening roar of colliding energies, no dazzling display of martial arts. The very instant Caspian stepped into the sector, it was as if the entire weight of the Himalayas had suddenly crashed down upon the heads of the four Tier 3 Awakened!
Crack—Squelch!
A sickening, abrupt structural collapse occurred in the blink of an eye, completely masked by the thumping heavy bass of the club.
The bodyguards' Aether-reinforced ribcages and proud spinal columns, upon contacting the high-dimensional gravitational field, folded inward with a spine-chilling crunch—like dry twigs crushed beneath a ten-thousand-ton hydraulic press. Their eyeballs bulged with ruptured vessels before popping, and their knees and femurs were violently driven straight up into their abdominal cavities.
One second. That was all it took for four living, elite Awakened to be compressed into four unrecognizable puddles of mangled flesh and shattered bone, slumping silently onto the dark red carpet.
Caspian elegantly bypassed the meat paste and entered the spacious, luxurious box. Victoria followed behind him like a terrified hound, trembling as she shut the soundproof door.
On the sofa, Old Thorne had just finished receiving the lifeforce backflow from the array. Hearing the noise, his bloodshot eyes snapped open. When he recognized the face of the intruder, his pupils violently contracted.
"It's you..." The shock on Old Thorne's face lasted for only half a second before the ruthless cunning of a top-tier tycoon took over. He didn't scream for help. Instead, he leaned back into the leather sofa, glaring coldly at the young man. "The little Vane bastard who ruined my son Tyler at the banquet... I must admit, killing my personal guards without making a sound is somewhat beyond my expectations."
Caspian ignored the barking of a petri dish.
He walked over to the expensive crystal coffee table, picked up the freshly opened bottle of Romanée-Conti, and elegantly poured the crimson liquid into a clean crystal glass.
"Put that down." Old Thorne's voice darkened completely. His hand had already covertly pressed a biometric switch hidden under the armrest of the sofa. "Do you really think a little brute force is enough to single-handedly breach the core of the Crimson Club? This is the territory of the Thorne family!"
The moment the words left his mouth, he slammed the switch!
Whirrrrr—CLANK!
The walls of the VIP box instantly erupted with the screech of engaging gears. Four half-meter-thick, specialized titanium alloy armor plates slammed down from within the walls, hermetically sealing the box into an absolute vault where not even a fly could escape.
Immediately after, thick, dark-golden mist violently spewed from hidden vents in the ceiling.
"High-tier alchemical poison gas bestowed by the Temple—'Tears of the Seraph'." Old Thorne yanked a gas mask from a hidden compartment and strapped it over his face. His muffled voice echoed with cruel sadistic glee. "It can dissolve the alveoli of a Transcendent within a minute and rot away your Aether! You little bastard, it's time you paid the price for your arrogance!"
The dense fog instantly flooded the room. Just inhaling a microscopic wisp from the edge of the cloud caused Victoria to clutch her throat in agony. She collapsed to the floor, convulsing violently as horrific, burning red blisters rapidly surfaced on her pale skin.
However, standing dead center in the poison gas, Caspian didn't even blink.
He raised his wine glass, gently sniffing the vintage mixed with the dark-golden lethal gas, and slightly furrowed his brow.
"Low-tier secular Aether mixed with a bit of purified heavy metal..." Caspian sighed softly, like a Michelin-star chef critiquing a rotten fast-food burger. "Trash that isn't even fit to carry the shoes of my [Destruction Toxin] dares to call itself poison?"
The next second, the dormant [Marks of Ruin] inside Caspian let out a ravenous, low hum.
He didn't need to mount any defense. The dark-golden poison, capable of melting a Tier 4 Transcendent, acted as if it were being violently torn apart and swallowed by a higher-dimensional black hole the moment it came within half a foot of Caspian's body. In the blink of an eye, the lethal fog filling the room was completely devoured by his flesh like a whale inhaling plankton, leaving not a single trace behind.
Caspian stood there entirely unharmed, even swirling his wine glass with satisfaction. "A bit dry on the palate. But as an appetizer, it barely passes."
The color completely drained from Old Thorne's face beneath the mask. This was the ultimate trump card personally granted by the Temple's Regional Inquisitor! How was this possible?!
"Die! DIE!!"
Old Thorne completely panicked. He ripped off his mask and tore open his custom-tailored shirt. Embedded directly over his heart was a cross-star fragment glowing with blinding white light. It was a failsafe inscribed by the Temple's higher-ups to protect this lifeforce supply chain—a [Tier 5 Killing Array: Spear of Holy Judgment]!
BOOM—!
A terrifying spear of light, radiating extreme heat and holy fluctuations, erupted from Old Thorne's chest. With a shriek that could tear through titanium, it shot straight toward the spot between Caspian's eyebrows! The sheer power of this strike would instantly vaporize even the strongest Awakened in Sancta Lodo.
Facing this "Divine Killing Move" that could obliterate half a skyscraper, Caspian finally looked up.
He didn't dodge. He didn't conjure any secular Aetheric shields. He simply extended his black leather-gloved left hand and casually pinched the empty air with his index and middle fingers.
[Localized Gravity Subjugation].
The scene froze in a grotesque, eerie stillness.
That violent, Tier 5 Spear of Holy Judgment—representing the supreme destructive might of the Temple—was caught dead in its tracks, pinched tightly between Caspian's two fingers! The spear of light violently struggled and hummed, radiating blinding light and heat, but it couldn't advance a single millimeter. Within the microscopic dimension between Caspian's fingers, gravity had been warped to such an unfathomable degree that even photons were forcibly locked in place.
"You took the stolen scraps of my past life's laws... and made a flashlight."
A flash of ultimate, high-dimensional contempt flickered in Caspian's dark golden eyes. He applied a fraction of an ounce of pressure to his fingers.
CRACK!
A crisp shattering sound echoed through the vault. That invincible spear of light was forcibly crushed like cheap glass, turning into a shower of dim, dying sparks that sprinkled into Caspian's wine glass.
Thud.
Old Thorne's legs gave out, and he slumped heavily onto the dark red carpet.
His cloudy eyes were filled with absolute despair and the total collapse of his faith. The poison gas was swallowed as an appetizer. The Temple's supreme killing move was pinched and shattered like glass by two fingers... He finally realized that the being standing before him wasn't an arrogant young Awakened. He was a high-dimensional monster wearing human skin!
"Are we done exhibiting your toys, Mr. Thorne?" Caspian carried his wine glass, now dusted with the shards of the holy spear, and sat down on the single sofa opposite the tycoon, elegantly crossing his legs.
He looked down at the trembling puddle of mud on the floor, a cruel curve touching his lips.
"Now, the Sovereign begins auditing his stolen assets. Spit out every secret you've siphoned from this array. Word by word."