Cultivator God, Thanks to Beautiful CEO

Chapter 10

Melvin stood alone in the center of the trap, surrounded by twenty armed men, simply looked up at Victor Vance on the balcony, his eyes cold and dark as an abyss.

Twenty heavy tactical shields formed an impenetrable ring around Melvin, locking him inside a tight perimeter of cold steel and crackling voltage.

Chief Fresco took a deliberate step forward, heavy boots thudding against the polished marble floor. A smug, vicious grin stretched across his broad face as he raised the heavy steel handcuffs.

"Hands behind your back, kid," Fresco barked, his voice booming off the glass walls. "You have three seconds before my men force you to the ground."

Up on the second-floor balcony, Vice Director Victor Vance leaned over the gilded railing, resting his chin on his hands. A victorious, gloating sneer lit up his features as he leaned toward Dr. Samuel Reed.

"Look at him, Samuel," Victor whispered, his tone brimming with venomous satisfaction. "He thought curing one girl made him untouchable. Inside these walls, I am the god of Apex Medical Center. By noon, he’ll be locked in a dark cell facing life imprisonment for assault and theft."

Samuel Reed swallowed hard, nodding nervously, though a cold knot of dread remained tied in his stomach.

Down in the center of the ring, Melvin didn't raise his hands. He didn't even drop his leather bag. Instead, he looked past the crackling electric batons, meeting Chief Fresco’s glare with a gaze as dark and calm as an unruffled abyss.

"Chief Fresco," Melvin said softly, his voice carrying a quiet, unnatural resonance that cut through the electrical hum. "Taking orders from a desperate, terrified coward will prove to be the single biggest mistake of your life."

Fresco’s face darkened in an instant. "You arrogant little bastard! Break his knees!"

"Taking him down!" three security guards roared, stepping forward simultaneously with elevated stun batons aimed straight for Melvin’s neck and shoulders.

Before the batons could descend—

CRASH!

A deafening roar of high-horsepower engines shattered the glass entrance facade.

The heavy reinforced glass double doors swung open wildly as three pitch-black, armored luxury SUVs mounted the granite plaza steps, pulling up directly inside the grand lobby itself. The sheer force of their abrupt arrival sent tire smoke swirling across the polished marble.

The three vehicles parked in a tight tactical formation, completely blocking off the lobby exits.

The doors of the front and rear SUVs slammed open in unison. A dozen imposing enforcers dressed in sharp charcoal suits, dark sunglasses, and tactical ear-pieces poured out, moving with terrifying military precision. In less than two seconds, the Syndicate enforcers surrounded the twenty hospital guards from behind, drawing heavy sidearms and raising them directly at the security team's heads.

"Nobody move!" the lead enforcer commanded, his voice cold as liquid nitrogen. "Lower your weapons or die where you stand!"

The twenty hospital guards froze instantly. Their smug expressions melted into pure terror as they found themselves staring down the barrels of high-caliber pistols. The crackling electric batons slipped from trembling fingers, clattering uselessly onto the floor.

Chief Fresco’s face drained of every drop of color. "Wh-What is the meaning of this?!"

The back door of the central SUV opened slowly.

A polished silver-headed cane struck the marble floor with a sharp, echoing CLANG.

Lady Beatrix Sterling stepped out of the vehicle. She wore a tailored crimson coat, her posture straight, her dark eyes radiating a terrifying, autocratic authority that had dominated Sargana Province’s underworld for decades.

Flanking her was her personal chief bodyguard—a towering man built like a fortress, carrying a subtle aura of refined martial training.

Lady Beatrix swept her cold, piercing gaze over the trembling hospital guards, before letting her eyes land squarely on Chief Fresco.

"Fresco," Beatrix’s voice echoed like a thunderclap through the vaulted lobby. "Who gave a dog like you the audacity to point weapons at the honored savior of the Sterling family?"

Chief Fresco’s knees buckled. He stammered frantically, his hands shaking as he lowered his handcuffs. "L-Lady Beatrix! You... you misunderstand! This intern—Melvin—he committed grand theft! He assaulted senior staff! Vice Director Victor Vance personally ordered his arrest!"

"Order?" Beatrix took a single step forward, her silver cane tapping the floor again.

A wave of intense, heavy pressure rippled through the room. "Victor Vance is a spineless worm who couldn't even diagnose my daughter’s condition, let alone issue orders that override the Sterling name!"

Beatrix stopped three feet from Chief Fresco, looking down at the towering security chief as if he were a poisonous insect.

"You dared to call Doctor Melvin a criminal in front of me?" Beatrix asked softly, her tone deathly calm. "Since your mouth speaks nonsense and your hands dare threaten my guest... slap yourself."

Fresco gasped, stumbling back. "Wh-What?!"

"Slap yourself," Beatrix repeated, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. "Right now. Until I tell you to stop."

Two heavy Syndicate enforcers stepped up beside Fresco, their hands resting on their holstered weapons, their expressions grim and unyielding.

Fresco looked around desperately. Not a single hospital guard moved to help him; every staff member in the lobby stood paralyzed in shock. High up on the second floor, Victor Vance had pulled his hands back from the balcony railing, stepping back into the shadows in sheer panic.

Realizing there was no escape, Fresco raised his right hand with a trembling arm.

SLAP!

The sharp crack echoed through the quiet lobby.

"Harder!" Beatrix commanded coldly.

Fresco struck his own face repeatedly, the force turning his cheeks raw and bloody. Tears of pain and deep humiliation leaked from his eyes as he delivered strike after strike to his own jaw in front of dozens of doctors, nurses, and staff who used to fear him.

"Stop!" Beatrix finally said after ten agonizing slaps.

Then, Fresco collapsed onto his knees, blood dripping from his lip, his head hanging low in absolute defeat.