"I-I... I can't sign it."The man in the blue suit stammered, his voice shaking as he refused.If he handed over all his assets, wouldn't that be the same as signing his own death warrant?"You insolent fool! How dare you say that? Have you grown tired of living, huh?!"Slap!A resounding slap landed on the man's cheek. Because it came from a cultivator, the force sent him flying a meter back, his face twisting from the impact. A searing pain spread across his skin, making his vision blur.But the torment wasn't over yet.The cultivator yanked him upright again, forcing him back into his seat."Sign it. Now. Don't resist. If you refuse again, I'll make sure you never show your face in public again!"The man in the blue suit sat dazed, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. Yet, despite the agony, he shook his head. He would rather die than lose everything he had built.“I have a wife and child to protect,” he told himself. “I'd rather die than see them suffer.”"You stubborn bas

"Y-you..."The cultivator's body trembled violently. The figure standing before him was too terrifying to face."Even if his abilities are only at level 10, why do I feel such overwhelming fear when I look into his eyes?" the cultivator thought."I won’t repeat myself." The words left Marc’s lips once more, his gaze fixed firmly on the cultivator’s eyes. This time, his tone carried an unmistakable authority.Under that piercing stare, the cultivator's body shook even harder. And for reasons beyond his comprehension, his right hand moved on its own, handing over the paper he had been clutching to Marc."W-what... what did you do to me?"The cultivator was even more shocked by the way his body had acted against his will. At that moment, he realized that this young man was no ordinary person. He had to be... a sorcerer!Ignoring the question, Marc took the paper from the cultivator’s hand and snapped a photo of it with his tablet.[What do you think? Is this enough to get him severely pu

The elderly woman cast aside all the pride and respect she had once commanded as a matriarch of the Everstone clan. None of it mattered now. The only thing that mattered was an apology from the young man standing before her."My lady."Marc spoke, his voice calm yet resolute."This is not a personal dispute between me and Alistair, nor between me and your clan, where a simple apology could erase everything that has transpired. It is far greater than that. This is about my duty to take decisive action against the corruption that has plagued Walenstein Province."As Vice Marquis, Marc held authority second only to the Marquis himself. In the Kingdom of Lanshire, individuals of his rank were often the first to be deployed when matters of security arose, regardless of the situation.He had initially declined this title, knowing full well how it would alter his responsibilities. He had once been solely a healer, but this position burdened him with something far greater—the responsibility t

Stepping through the doorway, the interior of the building was a stark contrast to its abandoned exterior. Inside, everything was neat and clean, resembling a fully operational factory.However, instead of just metalworking equipment, the walls were lined with an array of firearms, ranging from the lightest to the heaviest models. Several men and women were busy assembling specific gun parts, working with meticulous precision."This place hasn’t changed. Thank goodness!" Purple grinned widely. Though she hadn’t been born here, she had spent decades of her life within these walls. This place had once been her home.But the further she walked, the more she noticed the stares. Men and women alike watched her with eyes full of doubt. Instead of welcoming her back, their gazes carried disgust and resentment. Not a single one of them made a move to speak to her."Well, thank you all for such a warm welcome back to Duskmoor. You're too kind," Purple said sarcastically, as if addressing them

"You bastard! You think you can lie to me? Do you have any idea who we are?!"SLAP! SLAP!The bank manager staggered backward, reeling from two brutal slaps across the face. Each one landed with a sickening crack, delivered by a heavyset thug with a greasy mohawk and fists like sledgehammers.“I—I swear, I’m not lying, sir…”His voice trembled as much as his body. Blood trickled from both corners of his mouth, and his cheeks were already swelling from the blows. He struggled to his feet, shaky and bruised, ignoring the sting of pain radiating from his battered face.“That’s all we’ve got,” he said hoarsely, pointing with a trembling hand toward the massive steel vault—now wide open.The manager wasn’t alone. Every bank employee lay face-down on the cold marble floor, wrists bound behind their backs. Panic clung to them like a second skin. The air was thick with sweat, fear, and the metallic scent of blood. Nobody could’ve imagined that this ordinary morning would spiral into a waking