A terrifying pressure swept toward Celeste Grant. The air was thick with a grim, deathly aura.
Hearing this, Celeste Grant just sneered. "You think you can lay a finger on my son?"
The moment she spoke, the eye was clearly taken aback.
"Your son? Who? Who is your son?"
Celeste Grant smiled.
"You're asking me, are you?"
"I don't mind telling you. The Everard you mentioned—he's my son, and I'm his mother. For a family of villains, when you mess with the young one, the old one shows up. That's standard procedure. You... thing from who-knows-where, threatening to kill my son. Now, tell me, how should his mother deal with you?"
"You're Everard's mother?"
The crimson eye widened, its gaze locked onto her. It was filled with such disbelief that all it could do was stare.
Black energy churned in the sky, and a furious voice roared out.
"Impossible... This is impossible."
