Chapter 133: Truth and Head

"No… don't kill me!"

Edgar scrambled backward across the floor on all fours, kowtowing frantically while begging in a shrill voice, "Mr. Ashford! Reaper! I was wrong! I truly know I was wrong!"

"Please don't kill me! As long as you spare me, I'll give you anything you want!"

"Money, territory—I'll even sign over half of the Rothschild family's European assets to you! I can beg my father! Just let me live!"

Leo stopped walking and looked down at the fat pig groveling desperately before him, his deep eyes full of mockery.

"Half the Rothschild family's assets?"

Leo crouched down slowly and grabbed Edgar's sweat-soaked blond hair. "Do you really think I need your filthy money?"

"No, no, no! You don't need money!"

Edgar trembled with pain but didn't dare resist. He could only shout desperately, "Intelligence! I have classified intel! You've been investigating the Nightfall organization, haven't you? I know all their secrets!"

At those words, Leo's gaze sharpened slightly.

"Talk."

Leo released his grip and lit a cigar with deliberate slowness, his voice ice-cold. "Back in Italy, the Silverman family said your Rothschild family is just a puppet the Valois family put on the front stage. What's the real relationship between your two families?"

At the mention of "the Valois family," Edgar's entire body shuddered. He confessed in terror, "The outside world… even most of Europe's underground forces believe the Rothschild family is subservient to the Valois family… but that's actually a massive lie meant to deceive everyone!"

"Neither family is subordinate to the other! In reality, whether it's our Rothschild family, the lofty Valois family, or the mysterious Gray Cloaks!"

"We all serve the same power!"

The moment he said that, Ivy, Serafina, and Charlotte—standing behind Leo—all showed a flash of shock in their beautiful eyes.

Even these two European giants were merely subordinates to some force!

Leo frowned thoughtfully. "And what about the Nightfall organization?"

He'd already suspected as much—the Silverman family was only a second-tier family.

How could they possibly know these things!

"The Nightfall organization… they're just the biggest attack dog that mysterious force keeps in Europe!"

Edgar, desperate to survive, confessed everything. "It's not just Nightfall in Europe—even Japan's Black Dragon Society in Asia is another dog they keep! We financial conglomerates provide funding and cover, while Nightfall and the Black Dragon Society do the biting—handle all the bloody work that can't see daylight!"

In Leo's mind, all the pieces suddenly connected.

No wonder!

No wonder the sniper who tried to assassinate him in New York had a cherry blossom tattoo from a Yamaguchi-gumi branch!

So everything—from North America to Europe to Asia—was all part of a vast web woven by the same puppet master!

"What's that power called? Who's the leader?"

"I… I don't know…"

Edgar broke down crying. "I truly don't know! That level of ultimate secrets—only my father and the head of the Valois family have clearance to know!"

"I'm just someone who handles peripheral missions. I'm really not lying to you! Reaper, please…"

Leo stared hard into Edgar's eyes for a full three seconds.

In those pupils, dilated with terror, Leo confirmed the waste had indeed spilled everything he knew.

"Since you don't know anything else."

A brutally cold smile spread across Leo's chiseled face. "Then there's no reason to keep your head attached."

"No! You promised!"

Edgar's pleading cut off abruptly.

Leo's large hand exerted force, snapping Edgar's neck with decisive efficiency!

His head lolled to one side at a grotesquely twisted angle. He was completely dead.

Leo pulled out a pristine white handkerchief and wiped his hands methodically, his eyes indifferent as he ordered, "Olivia, find a nice box. Pack up his head and send his father a 'return gift.'"

"Yes, boss." Olivia acknowledged coldly, drew her military knife, and walked toward the corpse without hesitation.

…

Meanwhile.

On the outskirts of Vienna, inside the Rothschild family's century-old estate.

In the opulent castle study, a fire blazed warmly while a phonograph played Beethoven's soaring symphony.

An elderly man in a dark red velvet robe sat in a leather chair, holding a glass of 1982 Lafite.

The current head of the Rothschild family and Edgar's father—Sawyer Rothschild.

Seventy-three years old, he'd controlled this family for forty years.

In the center of the study, Edgar's younger brother Leon Rothschild paced back and forth anxiously, his face full of worry.

"Father! The auction ended almost an hour ago! And we still haven't heard anything from Edgar!"

Leon stopped and looked toward the door, his voice urgent. "Not just Edgar—even Mr. Wheeler and the three hundred Gray Cloaks elites deployed on the perimeter have all gone silent! This is too strange! Could that monster Leo have actually gotten inside?"

"Why panic? Leon, you really need to work on staying calm under pressure."

Sawyer took a leisurely sip of wine. "Mr. Wheeler never leaves loose ends. Hundreds of armed elites going dark? In Vienna, aside from the military, who could silently eliminate that many Gray Cloaks operatives?"

"If you ask me, this so-called Reaper was scared off by our show of force. He probably never even dared cross the threshold of Hofburg Palace."

"But Edgar…"

"As for Edgar?"

Sawyer shook his head with a smile. "I know Edgar too well. He probably saw Leo didn't show up and is now busy in his private box, enjoying that woman's services. At a time like this, why would he answer your calls?"

Though Leon still felt vaguely uneasy, his taut nerves relaxed somewhat.

Just then, someone knocked on the study door.

"Come in," Sawyer said mildly.

The family's chief butler entered respectfully, holding a large black gift box.

"Mr. Rothschild."

The old butler bowed slightly and reported, "Someone from the palace just delivered a package. They said Mr. Edgar Rothschild specifically instructed them to send this 'gift' back to you."

"Oh?"

Sawyer set down his wine glass, and a satisfied smile appeared on his previously calm face. "Looks like I misjudged Edgar. He handled things rather well after all."

Leon's earlier worries vanished instantly, replaced by wild joy. "Father! It must be Leo's head! Edgar must have caught that coward trying to escape outside the palace and chopped off his head as a trophy for you!"

"Ha ha, seems Edgar really has matured. He understands how to use enemy blood to demonstrate our family's glory."

Sawyer laughed with satisfaction and casually gestured toward the table. "Open it, Leon. Let's see together what expression this supposedly legendary Reaper had when he died."

"Yes, Father!"

Leon rubbed his hands together excitedly and eagerly approached the table.

He ripped off the elegant ribbon and yanked open the lid.

An overwhelmingly thick smell of blood instantly burst from the box, filling the entire luxurious study.

However, when Leon's expectant gaze fell upon the contents of the box.

The wild joy on his face froze as if encased in ice.

Leon's legs gave out. He collapsed onto the floor, pointing at the box and screaming, "No… impossible!! This can't be!!!"

"Why are you making such a fuss? Even if it's a severed head, there's no reason to be so…"

Sawyer frowned with displeasure, scolding him while slowly standing and walking forward.

However, when his imperious eyes casually swept over the contents of the box.

The composure and arrogance on Sawyer's face disintegrated in an instant!

There, on luxurious crimson velvet silk.

What lay quietly was not Leo's head at all.

It was his son's—the Rothschild family's first heir—Edgar's severed head!