"Before going in, I want to ask you one last question, Anya."
"What question?"
"By wearing this badge, does that make me the leader of the Bolita family?"
"...Yes."
"Then will you obey any command I give?"
"Yes." "Very good."
This was the last question Ethan asked before entering.
So after he shouted Joan's name, he didn't hesitate to give Anya her first order.
"Shoot!"
Upon hearing the command, Anya, without any hesitation, fluidly drew her gun and fired.
Faced with the sudden shot, the other three people in the meeting room were clearly caught off guard.
But as the target of this attack, Joan, though surprised, remained calm. He was extremely composed.
Even though the bullet was about to reach him.
Because in his view, this shot was no threat, as he only needed to use his ability to easily dodge it.
Even launch a counterattack.
Thus, a cruel smile crept up his lips, wondering where this Bolita brat got the nerve and intuition to take the first shot.
Yet, this gave him an excellent reason and excuse.
A truly reckless creature.
He pressed his hands against the wooden conference table in front of him to activate his ability, but suddenly realized that the true name power flowing smoothly within his body, like blood, suddenly vanished as if losing signal.
The bullet was right before his eyes.
He widened his eyes, relying on years of life-and-death experience and explosive power to barely dodge the shot.
But it wasn't just one shot.
At the moment Anya fired, Ethan also drew his gun and fired.
After he asked Anya that question, he requested a gun from her.
Previously, he naturally did not know how to use a gun, nor did his former self. His skill and knowledge regarding firearms came from the authority of reputation.
The Instigator and Protector of Violence.
The moment he held the gun, he understood how to use it.
Margonan 647, the latest masterpiece from Margonan Company.
The gun's name automatically registered in Ethan's mind.
So naturally, he fired the shot both steadily and accurately, calculating even the direction Joan would dodge with precision.
The large caliber bullet directly pierced through Joan's brow, creating a blossom of flesh and blood on his head, red and white liquid splattering, the power so strong, living up to Margonan Company's promotion as a hand cannon.
Not until the liquid hit the ground with a harsh, clear smack did Fred and Emilio react.
Fred dove under the table disregarding any semblance of dignity, giving Ethan no chance for a second shot, while Emilio stood, slamming the contract in his hand heavily onto the conference table.
"Ethan of the Bolita family, are you tearing up the ceasefire agreement?"
He restrained his rage, because not only was the shot Ethan fired, but on the contract he just received, there was no signature belonging to Ethan where it should be, instead, it clearly read: No.
"As you can see, there's no need for a ceasefire now; the initiator of the war is dead."
Ethan no longer intended to continue shooting.
On one hand, Fred's quick reaction left no opportunity.
On the other hand, he could sense an unknown power surging within Emilio.
He certainly did not intend to start a fight with Sandro.
"Who would have thought you'd be the one to inherit the Bolita name in the end."
Emilio had seen the badge on Ethan's left ring finger by now, but his words implied something else.
"Indeed, who would've thought?"
Ethan chuckled.
While the two conversed, a large volume of footsteps was already echoing outside the meeting room, malice thick in the air.
Evidently, Joan had left many of his men in the hotel, and upon hearing the gunshots, they were coming.
Staying would only bring trouble.
Fred could only be dealt with next time.
Fortunately, Joan was already dead.
"Please convey my regards to honorable Sandro, and once I've cleared the traitors from the family, I will personally call to express my gratitude."
After speaking, Ethan led Anya towards a window obscured by shadows. He had already observed the terrain while resting his eyes, having planned this escape route.
Outside the window was the hotel garden, lifeless in the cold of autumn and winter, and beyond lay the vast Beihai, the sound of tides faintly audible.
The meeting room was on the second floor, but with his enhanced physique, jumping down posed no issue.
He turned to look once more at Emilio, who showed no sign of wanting to stop him.
In truth, Ethan had been wary of him all along, but now it seemed the other was cautious of him as well.
Was it because he dispatched Joan with such ease?
"Goodbye, Mr. Emilio, forgive me for staining this beautiful night with blood."
Saying that, he leapt down and landed lightly on the ground, hardened by the freeze.
Soon after, Anya also jumped, and Ethan caught her.
She was unexpectedly light, lying in his arms like a piece of velvet.
Seeing Anya's exquisitely delicate face, perhaps it was the brightness of the moon tonight, or the fact he had just killed, but an inexplicable force surged within Ethan, causing his eyes to shimmer a faint shade of dark purple, compelling him to lower his head and capture the girl's lips with his own.
Anya's expression finally registered a change, her face flushed, breathing hastened, as she hurriedly broke away, taking a deep breath to forcibly calm herself and said, "Young master, I will take you to the dock now, the boat is already waiting, we can leave Wenster for the Royal Capital at the quickest pace."
"No, no no, Anya, I've changed my mind, I've changed my mind, I am not returning to the Royal Capital." Ethan shook his head, feeling as if he were floating on clouds, an indescribable force rushing through him, as if he were flying, he murmured, "Blood for blood."
With the last word, he swiftly raised his gun, firing, hitting a head that popped into view from above the window.
It was one of Joan's men.
"They're here!"
They had been discovered.
Ethan immediately led Anya rushing towards the hotel entrance.
Joan's men seemed less quick to respond, so by the time Ethan and Anya reached the car, no one had caught up yet.
As for those stationed by Joan outside, they were clueless about what transpired inside the hotel, possibly hesitating whether to enter, while Anya, driving the Klaus Long Spear, shot out like an untamed stallion.
Watching the cityscape swiftly flitting past the car window, Ethan felt a tipsy lightness, akin to being slightly drunk.