Chapter 155: The Bargaining Chip of Power
Paris, Left Bank of the Seine.
Inside a nineteenth-century classical apartment building, completely shrouded by lush French plane trees.
From the outside, this structure looked no different from the surrounding art-filled old apartments—even its street number had faded beyond recognition from years of weathering.
But a closer inspection would reveal that behind every window lurked extremely discreet bulletproof glass.
Beneath the antique copper doorbell, a highly advanced iris recognition system hid under peeling plaster.
The entire building was a flawlessly disguised fortress.
This was Erwin Valois's true lair, hidden for twenty-five years.
Top floor.
Inside the dimly lit fireplace room, flames blazed brightly.
Flickering firelight danced across the carefully preserved old photographs of the Valois family hanging on the walls, illuminating those long-departed faces in alternating brightness and shadow.
A young man in a charcoal gray cashmere cardigan stood with his back to the door, holding a bottle of '82 Romanée-Conti in one hand, expertly filling two crystal wine glasses with crimson liquid.
He was Erwin Valois.
Though he'd endured twenty-five years in hiding, time hadn't left too many haggard marks on him.
At thirty, he still maintained the distinctive elegance and stern composure characteristic of the Valois family.
The heavy oak door was gently pushed open from outside.
Pierre entered, exhaustion written all over his face, the scent of tobacco from the slum pool hall still clinging to him.
"You're back?"
Erwin didn't turn around, casually sliding one of the wine glasses toward Pierre's spot with the ease of old friends chatting. "The rain's getting worse out there. Have some wine to warm up."
Pierre looked at that rich red wine, his eyes growing slightly moist.
Twenty-five years.
From the moment he'd fought desperately to protect infant Erwin and escape the blood-soaked Valois Manor, the master-servant relationship had long since blurred.
They were more like father and son bound by fate, or comrades-in-arms fighting side by side.
Erwin never spoke to him in commanding tones—instead, he always did things like this, personally pouring wine for him.
"Erwin..."
Pierre lifted the glass, taking a small sip, his aged voice carrying a hint of complexity. "I saw him."
"Him?"
Erwin paused slightly, then turned around.
When he heard the name Pierre spoke next, this young nobleman who'd endured twenty-five years trembled violently, nearly dropping his glass.
"Reaper... Leo?"
Erwin's eyes widened in disbelief. "The killing god who tore the entire European old order to shreds? How did he find us?"
Pierre recounted everything that had happened at the pool hall tonight, down to the last detail.
Leo's appearance. His calculated declaration. Those two bloodstained tokens.
After hearing it all, Erwin fell into prolonged silence.
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window with his glass, gazing through the bulletproof glass at the Eiffel Tower shrouded in rain in the distance, his expression extremely complicated.
"Pierre."
After a long moment, Erwin spoke slowly. "Do you think... what he said is true? Can he really deliver Louis's head to us within three days?"
"I don't know."
Pierre shook his head with a bitter smile. "The Evernight Order's Templar Knights are too terrifying. They're monsters beyond human comprehension. No matter how strong Reaper is, I can't be certain he can win."
"But Erwin..."
Pierre's voice suddenly trembled, his bloodshot eyes fixed intently on Erwin. "I'm old. Truly old."
"These twenty-five years, every single night I've dreamed of that blood-soaked night. Dreamed of your father's wide-open eyes as he lay in pools of blood, dreamed of your mother's screams when that bastard Louis stabbed her through the heart..."
"I'm nearly seventy now, Erwin."
Pierre's voice choked up. "I don't know how much longer I'll live. But I don't want to die like this—I'm not willing!"
"Your parents' blood debt remains unpaid! The position of family head that rightfully belongs to you is still being usurped by that bastard Louis!"
"So..."
Pierre took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with the madness of burning one's boats. "I don't care if Leo's sincere or not, I don't care if he's certain he can succeed—I want to take this gamble! Even if there's only a one-in-ten-thousand chance, I'm betting on it!"
"Because this is my only chance in this lifetime to personally witness that bastard Louis's head roll!"
Watching Pierre's all-or-nothing expression, Erwin's heart clenched painfully.
He drained his wine glass in one gulp and hurled it violently to the floor.
Crystal shards exploded across the carpet.
"Pierre, you're old."
Erwin turned around, his eyes burning with the same madness and fury as Pierre's. "But I'm still young! This time, let me be the one to gamble!"
"These twenty-five years, I've thought about that bloody night every single day!"
Erwin's voice rose higher and higher, until he was nearly roaring. "When I was five years old, I watched with my own eyes as that bastard Louis beheaded my father! Watched my mother get stabbed into a sieve trying to help me escape!"
"These twenty-five years, I've hidden in slum sewers, barely surviving like a rat!"
"I swore an oath! Even if it costs me this life, I will kill my way back to Valois Manor and personally wring that bastard Louis's neck!"
"Now, the opportunity has come!"
Erwin grabbed Pierre's shoulders, his eyes flashing with bloodthirsty coldness. "I don't care if Reaper's sincere, I don't care if he's certain! This is our only chance! If we miss it, we'll never have another shot at turning things around!"
"I agree to the gamble!"
Pierre looked at Erwin's face—so identical to Erwin's father's from years ago—and finally nodded heavily.
"But..."
A flash of shrewdness crossed Pierre's eyes. "Even though we're gambling, we can't gamble blindly. We need to see first whether this Reaper truly has the capabilities he claims, whether he has the sincerity he promises."
Erwin understood Pierre's meaning. "You want him to make the first move, to prove it to us?"
"Exactly."
Pierre analyzed coolly. "He said he'd deliver Louis's head in three days. So we wait those three days. If he actually does it, that proves he truly has the power to overturn the Valois family. Then we can cooperate with him fully."
"Good!"
Erwin nodded firmly. "Then we wait! We wait for him to prove his sincerity with Louis's head!"
...
At the same time.
Paris city center, inside the presidential suite of a top-tier luxury hotel.
A burst of urgent satellite phone ringing shattered the room's silence.
Leo emerged from the bathroom wearing only a bath towel, revealing a battle-scarred but perfectly sculpted physique.
He glanced at the caller ID, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
Pentagon encrypted line.
Leo answered. A familiar gruff voice came through.
"Leo, it's Howard."
The very Air Force commander who'd provided B-2 bomber support for Leo at Aviano Air Base in Italy.
"General." Leo was brief. "What's up?"
"We've got a problem."
Howard's voice carried weight. "Half an hour ago, the French government sent an extremely strongly worded diplomatic note to the Pentagon through NATO channels."
"They're accusing you of illegally possessing military armed helicopters and conducting unauthorized operations in French airspace, seriously violating NATO agreements and French sovereignty. They're demanding we immediately extradite you back to the US to face court-martial."
Leo laughed coldly. "The French government? You mean the Valois family pressuring them through their political connections?"
"Exactly."
Howard made no attempt to hide it. "According to intelligence analysis, the real force behind this note is the Valois family. They've activated their pawns in the French Defense Ministry and Foreign Ministry, trying to use government authority to eliminate you."
"Leo, I need to ask you something."
Howard's tone grew serious. "What are you planning to do next? Do you need the Pentagon to step in and smooth this over? After all, the US military can't openly antagonize an allied government."