Chapter 745

• The atmosphere inside the Veyron Manor had shifted from a calculated war room to a tomb of suffocating silence. The obsidian table, once the altar of their perceived godhood, now felt like a cold slab awaiting a corpse. Marcus Veyron sat motionless, his skin a sallow, papery gray, while the rest of the family spiraled into a desperate, frantic diagnosis of their own ruin.
• "It’s the Chen family," one uncle hissed, his fingers trembling as he pulled up rival dossiers. "They’ve been waiting for a crack in our armor for a decade. They must have bribed the authentication board."
• "Impossible," a financial advisor countered, his voice shrill with panic. "The Chens don’t have the reach to hit twenty-four cities in a single night. This requires a logistical ghost—someone who can command the streets and the boardrooms simultaneously. This is a state-level assassination."