Ian's gaze fell upon him. He raised his right hand, his fingers curling into a grasping motion.
The Marquis's voice cut off abruptly.
His obese body was instantly hoisted into the air by an immense, invisible force.
His neck was squeezed tight, his face turning purple as he choked. His limbs kicked and flailed in vain.
"Those who participated in coercing the Marcus Clan, step forward." Ian's eyes swept over the paralyzed crowd below.
Several men who looked like Knight captains and Stewards, scared out of their wits, scrambled and crawled toward the door.
Ian flicked the fingers of his left hand.
TSK! TSK! TSK!
Several faint purple rays, as thin as hairs, flashed through the air.
The men froze in place, still in their running poses.
The next second, from the inside out, their bodies silently transformed into ice-blue sculptures, glowing with a cold, eerie light under the moon.
"Ahhh..." The surviving guests and servants let out blood-curdling screams.
