Chapter 147: Knight Templar
Paris, France—A Hidden Château on the Outskirts
Inside the estate owner's lavish study, an oppressive, suffocating silence hung in the air.
Louis stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, heavily armed security teams patrolled the grounds in tight formations. His eyes were dark, clouded with malice.
The oak door to the study opened gently.
The gaunt, pale-faced butler hurried inside. His face, usually slick with cold sweat, now showed a flicker of barely concealed ecstasy and excitement.
"Mr. Valois! Good news!"
The butler didn't even bother with proper aristocratic etiquette. His voice trembled as he spoke. "The core council of The Evernight Order has received our emergency report! They're furious about the destruction of the Nightfall organization!"
"Five minutes ago, the highest command was issued. The Templar Knights have been notified—they're already on their way. Reinforcements are en route at full speed!"
At the mention of "Templar Knights," Louis erupted into a fit of wild, maniacal laughter.
"Ha ha ha ha! The Templar Knights are finally moving! Good! Excellent!"
Louis spun around and slammed his fist down hard on the expensive mahogany desk. His eyes gleamed with crazed satisfaction. "That's The Evernight Order's ultimate trump card—hidden for seven hundred years! These are the real monsters who wield supernatural killing power!"
"What was Kyle, the man who swept through the Middle East? What was the Mourner, who terrorized Europe? Compared to the Templar Knights, they're not even worthy of licking their boots!"
Louis grabbed the glass of red wine from his desk and downed it in one gulp. The arrogant pride of nobility returned to his face.
"Reaper? Leo?"
He stared out into the pitch-black night, his voice dripping with venom. "No matter how strong you are, you're nothing but a slightly bigger ant in the face of true divine power."
"With the Templar Knights holding the line, even if that American had ten times the guts, he wouldn't dare set foot in France!"
"This time, I'd like to see where you run."
# Meanwhile
On the outskirts of Vienna, under the cover of night, a secluded private airfield.
The bone-chilling wind howled across the empty tarmac. A fully fueled private jet sat ready, its engines roaring deafeningly, prepared for immediate takeoff.
With the harsh squeal of brakes, three armored Maybachs—riddled with bullet holes and caked in mud—skidded to a stop beside the boarding stairs like dogs fleeing for their lives.
The car doors were violently kicked open.
Sawyer, once a man who commanded wind and rain across Europe, now looked like an old beggar on the run. His hair was disheveled, his tie askew, utterly pathetic.
Surrounded by a dozen or so of his remaining loyal bodyguards, he scrambled out of the vehicle, half-crawling, half-stumbling.
In his arms, he clutched a heavy black titanium briefcase as if his life depended on it.
Inside was exactly one hundred billion dollars in bearer bonds.
This was the most core, most secret liquid asset the Rothschild family had accumulated over centuries.
As long as he could escape to South America with this money and change his identity, Sawyer believed that with his skills, given enough time, he could rebuild the Rothschild family's former glory.
"Hurry! Move faster! Get on board! Take off immediately!"
Sawyer clawed his way up the boarding stairs, shrieking at the pilot and bodyguards like a madman. "That devil Leo could catch up any second! Get me out of Europe now!"
"Yes, sir!"
The bodyguards were equally terrified, gripping their weapons tightly as they scanned the surroundings.
But just as Sawyer's foot touched the top of the stairs—just as he thought he'd finally escaped—
BOOM!
A deafening roar suddenly rolled in from all sides of the night sky above the private airfield.
It sounded like the god of thunder pounding war drums in the heavens.
"What's happening?!"
Sawyer looked up in terror.
The next second, every drop of blood drained from his face.
From within the pitch-black clouds, two blinding searchlight beams suddenly pierced through the darkness.
Massive rotor blades tore through the wind.
An AH-64 Apache attack helicopter, painted in black stealth coating, instantly locked down the entire small airfield.
The Apache's belly-mounted chain gun and the Hellfire missiles mounted on either side all swiveled in unison, aiming directly at Sawyer on the stairs and the Gulfstream private jet.
If they made even the slightest move, that terrifying firepower would reduce everything here to rubble in an instant.
The bodyguards behind Sawyer dropped their assault rifles and fell to their knees, legs giving out beneath them.
An Apache attack helicopter?
Had Leo actually flown this thing straight into Vienna's inland airspace?
"It's over... It's all over..." Sawyer's entire body trembled violently as he collapsed onto the stairs.
Under the focused glare of the searchlights, a thick high-altitude rappel rope descended from the central Apache.
A tall, imposing figure dressed in black, wearing a custom-tailored coat that whipped violently in the wind, descended like the Grim Reaper himself.
Thud.
Military boots landed firmly on the tarmac. Leo, a lit cigar clamped between his teeth, gazed coldly at Sawyer, who had crumpled on the stairs. His deep eyes were utterly indifferent.
Behind him, Olivia, dressed in black tactical gear, slid down the rope and took up position at his side, her expression ice-cold.
"So, sir, where are you planning to vacation this late at night?"
Leo exhaled a puff of smoke. His voice carried a bone-chilling coldness through the wind. "Leaving without saying goodbye to your creditor seems to violate your precious aristocratic etiquette, doesn't it?"
"Leo... No! Reaper!"
Seeing Leo descend like a demonic god, Sawyer completely broke down.
He tumbled down the stairs and threw himself at Leo's feet, prostrating himself like a dog and frantically kowtowing.
"Don't kill me! Please don't kill me! I'm just a dog for the Valois family! Everything was that bastard Louis's idea!"
Sawyer sobbed hysterically as he fumbled to open the titanium briefcase he'd been clutching.
The case sprang open.
Inside were stacks upon stacks of bearer bonds—enough to drive anyone in the world insane with greed.
"Reaper! Money! I have money!"
Sawyer seized what he thought was his last lifeline. He held the case high, pleading desperately. "This is one hundred billion dollars! Any bank in the world can cash it immediately! This is the Rothschild family's entire core fortune!"
"If you spare my life, it's all yours! I swear I'll leave Europe forever and never appear before you again!"
One hundred billion dollars to buy a single life.
It was unquestionably the most expensive ticket in human history.
And yet.
Faced with wealth capable of purchasing a small nation, Leo's deep, abyssal eyes didn't even ripple.
He looked down at the tear-streaked Sawyer as if staring at a pile of disgusting, non-recyclable garbage.
"One hundred billion dollars?"
Leo held his cigar between his fingers, a mocking sneer curling at the corner of his mouth. "Sawyer, are you overestimating the value of those printed numbers, or underestimating my appetite?"
"What I want is the lives of you filthy families. As for the money..."
Leo took a long drag from his cigar, his tone as calm as still water. "Once I kill you, that paper becomes mine anyway."
Hearing those words, the last glimmer of hope in Sawyer's eyes turned to utter despair.
"You... you rule-breaking devil..."
Before Sawyer could finish spitting out his final curse—
Leo didn't even bother looking at him again. He simply tilted his head slightly, giving his adjutant a silent signal.
Olivia stepped forward expressionlessly, drawing the large-caliber Desert Eagle from her waist with decisive efficiency. The black barrel pressed directly against Sawyer's head.
"In your next life, be a better person."
BANG!
The deafening gunshot echoed across the tarmac.
The high-caliber Magnum round blew off Sawyer's skull in an instant.
Brain matter splattered everywhere, spraying across the briefcase filled with one hundred billion dollars in bearer bonds.
Sawyer Rothschild, the once-invincible financial overlord of Europe, collapsed onto the cold tarmac like a heap of rotting flesh.
And with that.
The Rothschild family—who had inherited power for centuries and believed they could manipulate the world's economic lifelines—was completely erased from the map of Europe. Not even a blade of grass remained.
Leo turned away without a second glance, tossing the blood-stained briefcase to Olivia.
"Clean up the body. Notify the Shadow team. Target: The Gray Cloaks."
Leo exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, tilting his head toward the direction of the Alps. A wild, violent battle intent ignited in his deep eyes.
"Since they're so eager to crawl out of their graves and die, I'll grant them their wish."