*Thud!*
After the wine glass shattered against the floor, Locke followed right behind it, collapsing toward the ground. To make it look as realistic as possible, he let his head fall first. His skull smacked against the floorboards, producing a genuinely loud, solid crack.
The back hall fell utterly silent.
Tyler King, still holding his own glass, blinked as he looked down at Locke sprawled on the floor.
This poison...
'Is the effect really this potent?'
Tyler King snapped out of his daze and looked toward his father, Earl King.
The latter let out a short laugh. Looking down at Locke, whose arms and legs were twitching weakly on the floor, Earl sneered with pure disdain.
"The Peerless Assassin... is nothing more than this!"
The King family's auction business operated on the principle that wherever there was a demand, there was a market. For them, clients were not exempt from becoming auction items themselves, provided the demand was high enough.
And the demand for the Peerless Assassin was astronomical.
A few days ago, Earl King wouldn't have dreamed of making a move against the Peerless Assassin. But that was before he was turned into a vampire.
And now?
Earl King's courage had grown immensely. He had originally assumed the Peerless Assassin would be difficult to deal with, but he hadn't expected a single cup of highly potent poisoned wine would completely take down the legendary figure.
This... was a bit surreal, yet completely logical.
The Peerless Assassin was human after all. If a human drank poisoned wine, they would succumb to it—that was an absolute law.
Tyler King nodded to the two guards who had just walked into the room.
A moment later, Locke was hauled up and bound tightly to a heavy wooden chair.
Just then, Francis King walked in from the outer hall. Seeing the Peerless Assassin restrained in the chair, he froze for a second before approaching Earl King.
"Father, the people from the Brotherhood have left."
Earl King nodded. "Remember to wire the funds our master requires."
"Rest assured, I've already arranged it."
"Mm."
The "master" Earl King spoke of was, without a doubt, the very vampire who had given him his sire's embrace. Although vampires rarely active openly these days, they relied on methods like this to amass wealth.
Tyler King walked back over from a short distance away. "The two clients have been contacted and are already on their way. Father, what do you think is a good starting bid?"
"Ten million."
"Alright."
Tyler King rubbed his hands together, looking exceptionally excited. "This time, we can provide our master with a hundred million dollars. The master will definitely be very pleased."
Perhaps if the master was in a good mood, he might even turn Tyler into an immortal vampire as well.
That would be wonderful.
Seated in the chair, the seemingly paralyzed Locke stirred slightly, apparently regaining consciousness.
Then, Locke struggled weakly for a moment. He raised his head, staring at the excited Tyler King in front of him, and asked a classic question that minor characters frequently asked Locke: "Why?"
Tyler King smirked.
But...
Just as Tyler King opened his mouth to speak, a sharp *rip* echoed through the room. The ropes binding Locke instantly burst apart.
Locke shook his head, his tone completely devoid of any emotion.
"That isn't my line. Knowing that you're courting death is enough."
Did he really need to ask why?
The individuals and organizations who wanted the Peerless Assassin dead were endless. He didn't need to ask why; if he were to draw up a list of wealthy tycoons and syndicates who wanted him gone, five sheets of paper wouldn't be enough to hold the names.
At the end of the day, they were just a bunch of pests hiding in the dark, entirely unworthy of concern.
Locke had initially intended to play along with their scheme, but on second thought, that would just be playing the "hidden expert" trope. He didn't care for it, so he decided to stop playing.
*Click-clack!*
A few skilled marksmen nearby, seeing Locke break free from the chair on his own and stand up, immediately drew their weapons, chambering rounds and aiming straight at him.
The expressions of the three King family members shifted dramatically as they watched Locke stand up.
Locke casually patted down the hem of his suit, which had gathered a bit of dust because he had thrown himself down a little too hard earlier, and then raised his head slightly.
The next second!
The Golden Dancers were drawn instantly.
*Bang!*
*Bang!*
*Bang!*
The muzzles of the Golden Dancers spat silent bursts of flame. Gold-plated rounds streaked out in the blink of an eye. In a flash, the guards who were drawing their weapons had their heads snapped back one after another.
The dull thuds of bodies collapsing heavily to the floor echoed in rapid succession.
In an instant, the room was cleared!
"Roar!"
*Boom!*
Locke extended his left hand, cleanly catching the lunging, fanged Earl King, who had moved like a streak of lightning. He then jammed a Golden Dancer straight into Earl King's open maw.
Earl King's face twisted into instant terror.
"When it comes to killing vampires, I'm a professional."
The corners of Locke's mouth curved into a chilling smile. Looking at Earl King, who had delivered himself right into his grasp, he spoke in an icy tone before pulling the trigger of the Golden Dancer in his right hand. *Boom!*
Instantly, his head burst apart like a ripe melon, splattering the floor.
The next second, Locke pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away a stray smudge that had accidentally gotten onto his right hand. He looked up, staring at Tyler King and Francis King, who were frozen in place as if paralyzed by shock.
"Three..."
*Bang!*
*Thud!*
Locke opened his mouth, then shook his head. With a dull thud, Francis King—who had just snapped out of his shock and turned to bolt toward the exit—was laid to rest instantly by a single round to the back of his head.
Tyler King was the one who had made the calls to contact the clients. Therefore, Francis King had no reason to be left alive.
"Three seconds!"
Locke tossed the handkerchief aside and looked toward Tyler King, whose forehead was now drenched in a cold sweat. His tone was indifferent.
"Who are the two clients you convinced? The ones who actually believe you can capture me?"
Tyler King shuddered, snapping back to reality. "I don't know."
Locke smiled.
The Golden Dancer was instantly raised.
*Wait.*
*My money.*
Locke raised an eyebrow and looked at Tyler. "My payout. I'll give you one minute. Otherwise, you lose all reason and value for remaining alive."
Tyler King stammered in a panic, "I-I'll arrange it right away!"
Locke let out a disdainful chuckle, his gaze drifting over to the headless corpse on the floor.
Earl King's.
Stepping closer, Locke knelt down, leaned over, and pulled a photograph from Earl King's body.
It was a photo of a woman.
Her gaze was fierce, and her reddish-orange hair was long and wild, resembling a ball of fire!
A mistress?
Locke looked up at Tyler King, who had already dialed a number on his phone, and held up the photograph. "Who is this?"
Tyler King glanced over and shook his head. "I don't know."
*Ding-dong.*
Locke pulled out his own phone, looking at the notification of over twenty-two million dollars deposited into his offshore bank account. Smacking his lips, he slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Seeing this, Tyler King pleaded, "Mr. Peerless, kidnapping you was my fa—"
*Bang!*
"Ugh..."
A completely silent gunshot echoed as a single streak of golden light flashed by. Tyler King's words cut off instantly. His gaze shifted upward, as if desperately trying to understand why his forehead suddenly felt so cold.
The next second, with a heavy thud, Tyler King was hit right between the eyes, losing all signs of life as he collapsed flat onto the floor.
Locke flicked his right hand, and the Golden Dancer dissolved back into a gold ring.
"Heh."
Locke walked over to Tyler King's side, retrieved the phone Tyler had just used, and glanced down at the dead man's unclosed eyes.
"I just came to attend an auction. Everything was going perfectly fine, so why did you have to seek death?"
After speaking, Locke shook his head with a trace of annoyance.
Had he known it would turn out like this, he wouldn't have bothered coming at all. Did they think being a vampire made them special? Completely useless; within ten paces, his gun was still faster.
A moment later, Locke used Tyler King's fingerprint to unlock the phone, then brought up the call log to find the two numbers Tyler had dialed earlier.
Selecting the first one, he hit redial.
*Ring, ring, ring!*
*Ring, ring, ring!*
A middle-aged man pulled out his phone, glanced at the incoming caller ID, and then looked toward a figure heading toward a nearby helicopter. He hurried over and handed the phone to that person.
The person glanced at the display, then looked back at the middle-aged man.
The next second, the person took the phone and hurled it straight into the helicopter's spinning rotor blades. In an instant, the sharp blades shredded the device into countless tiny fragments.
Hearing the sudden dead tone over the line, Locke lowered the phone and let out a short laugh.
This one...
Is quite clever.
Next one.
The second number dialed wasn't nearly as bright.
A youthful voice answered the call.
"Mr. King, we've set out. We should arrive in about half an hour."
"..."
Locke narrowed his eyes. Arriving in half an hour, and there was no sound of rotors over the phone; it sounded very quiet, which meant they were driving. And if they could arrive within half an hour...
New York City, or somewhere in New Jersey.
Except...
This voice seemed entirely unfamiliar. A complete stranger.
"Hello? Mr. King, can you hear me?"
"..."
Locke snapped back to attention. Hearing the caller's tone turn into a frown—the kind of question that only a green, inexperienced youth would ask—he chuckled.
"I've memorized your voice."
Inside the car, the young man froze slightly upon hearing the voice over the line.
"What?"
Sitting beside him, an older man dressed in a sharp suit, looking to be in his fifties or sixties, opened his eyes and gave a slight nod toward the front seat.
The driver nodded, quickly pulling the vehicle over to the curb, before spinning the steering wheel to execute a clean U-turn.
The young man blurted out like a reckless novice, "Who are you!"
Before the words could fully leave his mouth, the car window rolled down.
The older man, without uttering a single word, snatched the phone from the youth's ear and hurled it straight out the window. With a splash, the phone hit the ground and was instantly crushed into pieces by a passing vehicle.
"Go back."
"Understood."
The driver nodded, slamming down on the accelerator to pick up speed.
The young man seemed to finally realize what was happening. He looked toward the older man. "Priest Dorian..."
The older man raised a hand, signaling the youth to remain silent. "This matter ends here. We know absolutely nothing about it."
The young Priest Dorian: "..."