Chapter 134: Lure the Snake Out of Its Hole

Inside the Rothschild Estate

"AHHHHH!"

Sawyer roared like an enraged lion, nearly tearing the roof off his study.

This titan who'd controlled Europe's financial lifeline for forty years now gripped the edges of the gift box—the one containing his eldest son's severed head—his eyes bloodshot and wild.

His prized heir. The Rothschild family's future. Someone had cut off his head and delivered it to his study like a goddamn present.

"I want him dead! I want Leo DEAD!"

Sawyer's face contorted with murderous rage. "I'll tear you limb from limb! I'll carve up every woman around you piece by piece!"

"I'll deploy every mercenary and assassin the Rothschild family has across the globe! I'll slaughter everyone and everything near you until nothing's left alive!"

Leon trembled beside him, barely daring to breathe.

Just as Sawyer was about to issue orders mobilizing the family's entire armed forces—

BANG!

The study doors flew open without ceremony.

Three old men in deep gray robes strode in, radiating lethal intent.

The one leading them was Wayne, Chief Elder of the Gray Cloaks' Supreme Council.

Seeing these old bastards, Sawyer jabbed his finger at them. "You've got some nerve showing your faces here! You call yourselves Europe's deadliest assassins? What a joke!"

"Three hundred elite operatives! Commander Elton! Two of your precious Round Table Knights!"

"You swore to me it was foolproof! And what happened? You couldn't stop one upstart from America! You watched him snap my son's neck! The Gray Cloaks are nothing but useless—"

Wayne slammed his walking stick against the floor, cutting him off.

"Watch your tongue, Sawyer."

"You lost one son. We lost our current Commander and two top-tier Round Table Knights. Not to mention three hundred carefully trained operatives."

"This is the greatest humiliation the Gray Cloaks have suffered since the Middle Ages."

Wayne stepped forward, locking eyes with the furious patriarch. "We're not here to listen to your whining. Leo didn't just kill your son—he ground our dignity into the dirt. Our goal is the same: make him wish he'd never been born."

Sawyer let out a bitter laugh. "Make him wish he'd never been born? Easy to say! He butchered Elton and your Knights like dogs. What does the Gray Cloaks have left? A few decrepit old men?"

An eerie smile crept across Wayne's face.

"Elton and those two idiot Knights were merely our public face."

Wayne lowered his voice. "Sawyer, surely you haven't forgotten what's kept the Gray Cloaks standing for centuries?"

At those words, Sawyer's expression shifted—as if recalling something truly terrifying.

"You... you don't mean..."

"Precisely."

Wayne's smile turned sinister. "The Council voted unanimously. We've opened the deepest prison in the Alps and released 'him.'"

"The first-generation Blood-Pit Executioner—Kyle."

At the name "Kyle," both Sawyer and Leon sucked in sharp breaths.

Executioner Kyle.

A name spoken like a curse in Europe's underworld.

Twenty years ago, Kyle's methods had been so brutal, so savage, even the Gray Cloaks themselves feared him.

It took several Elders working together—and dozens of elite operatives as sacrifices—to lock him in that underground prison.

He wasn't human. He was a killing machine in human skin.

"You... you actually let him out?!" The fear in Sawyer's eyes quickly morphed into wild euphoria.

"Ha ha ha! Excellent! Perfect!"

Excitement lit up Sawyer's face. "With Kyle on the hunt, no matter how strong that bastard Leo is, he'll be torn to shreds tonight!"

---

Meanwhile.

Central Vienna. Top-floor presidential suite.

Leo had changed into a loose black robe. He poured himself half a glass of whiskey and settled into an armchair by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing down at the glittering cityscape.

On the leather sofa across the room, three stunning women had changed out of their blood-stained evening gowns.

Ivy wore a wine-red silk slip. Serafina had on a black lace robe. Charlotte draped herself in emerald sheer fabric.

Each held a wine glass, their figures—enough to drive any man mad—teasing shadows in the low light.

Yet despite their beauty, all three elite assassins wore expressions of confusion.

"Leo."

Ivy crossed the room on those long, perfect legs, settling beside him. Her voice was sultry but puzzled. "With the strength you showed tonight at Hofburg Palace, plus the three of us and Olivia outside for backup..."

"We could've stormed the Rothschild estate and wiped out Sawyer and his entire leadership in one strike. Why just send Edgar's head back and retreat to the hotel?"

Serafina and Charlotte looked equally perplexed.

In their experience, Reaper always finished the job. Never left enemies breathing.

Leo swirled his whiskey, a cold, calculating smile playing at his lips. "Sure, we could've gone in. Would've been simple. But that would've been too easy on them."

"The Rothschild family, the Gray Cloaks—they're just proxies for the real power hiding in the shadows."

"If I'd slaughtered them all tonight, whoever's pulling the strings would've scurried back into their hole like a frightened rat. Dragging them out again would waste my time."

Charlotte's eyes lit up with sudden understanding. "You're... drawing them out?"

"Only by crushing their trump cards right in front of them—piece by piece—can you break their psychological defenses and force that mysterious organization to show itself."

Leo drained his whiskey in one smooth motion. "Hunting requires patience. It's more satisfying when the prey sticks its own neck under the blade."

The three women felt a delicious chill run through them—both unnerved and utterly captivated by his ruthless strategy.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

"Boss, it's me."

Olivia entered, carrying freshly compiled intel.

"Boss, according to our eyes inside the Rothschild estate and the Gray Cloaks..."

She handed Leo the report. "The Gray Cloaks brought someone out of retirement. Codename: 'the Blood-Pit Executioner.' Supposedly, he tore through the Middle East twenty years ago. Europe's underworld considers him top-tier."

"Plus, the Rothschild family has mobilized over a thousand armed personnel for a citywide sweep of Vienna. Their target is you."

"The Blood-Pit Executioner?"

Leo lifted his glass, a gleam of excitement flashing in his dark eyes. "Drawing them out—that's exactly what big fish I was waiting for."

He downed the drink and set the glass down with a sharp clink.

"Olivia, notify Shadow Team. Starting tomorrow, we stop hiding."

"Let the Rothschild family and the Gray Cloaks come. I want to see just how good 'Europe's finest' really are."

Leo turned back to the Vienna skyline, a bloodthirsty smile curving his lips. "This hunt is just getting started."