—— Signals of an Unseen Snare ——
Early the next morning, Darius called to report: "Overlord, HelixPharm's product launch is the day after tomorrow. Miss Lyra asked me to inquire if you would be willing to attend."
"I'll decide then," Eren replied noncommittally, then asked, "Any movement from the Tri-Society Guild?"
"They've chosen the same day. Their leader, Marcus Voss, is holding a grand funeral for his son. Many of Novalis District 's elite will be there. And..." Darius's voice grew heavy,
"The funeral location is right next to HelixPharm's launch venue!"
Eren let out a cold laugh. "The Tri-Society Guild is digging its own grave."
He saw through Marcus Voss's malicious intent in an instant.
"Darius, increase security around Lyra these next few days. Ensure her safety at all costs. Report anything unusual immediately," Eren instructed.
"Understood, Overlord! On the day of the launch, I will mobilize all elite members of the Iron Vow Gang for protection. However... there is one more thing..." Darius hesitated.
"Speak."
"Miss Lyra... she is spending heavily to place a bounty on someone through the dark web."
Eren paused briefly, suspecting she might be targeting the Overlordmind behind Hawthorne's death.
After ending the call, Eren sank into thought. Who had sent the assassins after him last night?
Marcus Voss? Eren quickly dismissed the idea. Having set a trap with the funeral, why would Marcus risk alerting him prematurely?
Damien Vale? His style suggested he would disdain such underhanded methods.
Then who? This was already the third wave of dark web assassins.
Recalling Darius's report, a thought crossed his mind—could Lyra be the one trying to have him killed?
But he quickly dismissed it. Someone as kind-hearted as her... surely not.
Somewhere beyond the city lights, the trap had already begun to close—
not just around Lyra,
but around him as well.
—— Funeral Secrets ——
The funeral of Adrian Voss was less a farewell—and more a show of power.
Two hundred black-suited bodyguards stood like statues, their presence enough to silence every whisper.
The air reeked of money and tension. Wreaths upon wreaths turned the hall into a suffocating ocean of flowers—beautiful, yet cold as a grave.
At the center, Adrian's portrait loomed beneath dim light, a constant reminder of what this gathering truly was.
Marcus Voss stood before it, face carved in grief, but the glint in his eyes told a different story. He wasn't here to mourn—he was hunting.
The dead were merely an excuse.
The living were his prey.
Today's grand funeral was bait.
A hush fell over the crowd as a sleek motorcade rolled in.
From the central Lincoln stepped an elder in a dark Tang suit, silver hair gleaming under the lights.
He needed no introduction—the weight of his presence said it all.
This was Alaric Morven, head of the Morven family—the foremost power in Novalis District .
He walked slowly toward Marcus and spoke in a heavy tone, "Marcus, my condolences. No parent should have to bury their child."
"Brother Alaric, I didn't expect you to come in person. Thank you." Marcus clasped his hands in salute, a flicker of wariness passing through his eyes before being swallowed again by sorrow.
Alaric sighed softly. "First, the Veyne family was wiped out, leaving only one girl. Now, you've lost your son in your later years... Could this be retribution for what we did back then?"
"Shh—" Marcus quickly signaled with his eyes. "Brother Alaric, there are too many ears here. Be careful."
Alaric waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine. Marcus, you've grown more timid with age."
Marcus fell silent. Years ago, he, Alaric Morven, and Leopold Veyne had joined forces in an earth-shaking scheme, securing the influence and status that established the three great families of Novalis District .
Yet, ever since that event, all three families had suffered dwindling lineages.
Now, with his only son dead—not even leaving a whole body behind—he couldn't help but wonder: was this truly fate's repayment?
—— When Mourning Turns to War ——
As time passed with no sign of his son's killer, Marcus grew increasingly restless.
His gaze turned icy as it fixed on the hotel across the street, where a launch event was underway. A cruel, cold smile twisted his lips.
He raised his voice, addressing the entire crowd: "Thank you all for taking time to see my son off. Marcus is deeply grateful. I'm sure many of you are wondering—how did my Adrian die?"
His words caused a stir. Attendees glanced at one another, puzzled by his intent, but their curiosity was undeniable—who in Novalis District would dare touch the infamous young master?
Marcus scanned the crowd, then let his gaze settle coldly on the hotel."The one responsible for my son's death is none other than Lyra Veyne! Now, I ask you all to join me—let us cross over and demand justice for my son!"
---
Meanwhile, at the product launch venue across the street, the atmosphere was one of dazzling opulence and grand scale.
Every major media outlet and influential social media personality in Novalis District had gathered, their cameras and recorders aimed at the radiant woman on stage.
Lyra, in a pristine white gown, wore a perfectly poised smile as she eloquently presented the product and deftly handled questions.
She knew that once this product launched, it would cause an unprecedented sensation.
This event meant everything to her—and deep down, she secretly hoped that a certain mysterious, imposing figure would make an appearance.
Many in the audience silently admired her. Despite the recent tragedy that had shattered her family, here she stood, calm and articulate.
No one could tell that beneath the flawless composure,
her hands were cold—
and trembling.
But just as the event was reaching its peak, Marcus stormed in with his funeral procession in tow! Chairs were kicked over, reporters were shoved aside—their hostile intentions were unmistakable.
Lyra's face darkened instantly. "Mr. Marcus, what is the meaning of this?"
"My son died because of you! Today is the seventh day since his passing—the most important day of mourning!
And here you are, holding this... this celebration! Have you no conscience?!" Marcus's gaze was as sharp and cold as an arrow, his hatred palpable.
"What does your son's death have to do with me? I wouldn't dare, nor would I even have the ability, to kill him. I must ask you to leave at once—this event must continue!" Lyra's voice was firm, but inside, she was trembling.
The Voss family had always been ruthless; she knew this wouldn't end easily.
Marcus snorted. "This launch? Don't waste your effort! I declare here and now that I will unite all forces in Novalis District to fully boycott HelixPharm! From this day forward, your company will not sell a single product!"
As soon as he spoke, voices rose in support: "That's right! We stand with Patriarch Voss! Boycott HelixPharm!"
Lyra's face turned deathly pale. If a full-scale boycott took effect, HelixPharm would crumble in moments—let alone launch anything.