Godly Investor: A Hundred Trillion Dollars For Investment And Donations

At that moment The grand dining  hall of the Silver mansion fell into devastating silence as Ethan's men opened the coffin before the family. The Crystal chandeliers cast unforgiving light on Noah's lifeless face, his final expression of terror preserved like a grotesque artwork, his perfectly styled hair now a mockery of his former vanity.

At that moment Old Master Silver staggered forward, his weathered hands trembling violently as they reached for the coffin. His jade-headed cane clattered against the floor, the sound echoing like breaking bones through the dining hall. Decades of carefully maintained power and composure shattered in an instant.

His wife's anguished scream pierced the night, her designer dress rustling as she collapsed beside the casket.

Her perfectly manicured nails clawed at the polished wood as if she could tear it open through sheer desperation.

Servants pressed themselves against walls, their starched uniforms trembling as they tried to disappear, watching power shift violently in their pristine world.

they couldn't believe a day like this would come, a day when someone would walk into the mansion with the body of one of the Silver.

However Ethan stood calmly before them, the staff a dark presence at his side.

"Painful, isn't it?"

his voice carried lethal softness through the hall.

"Seeing your Grandson like this?" His enhanced senses caught every tremor of their grief, every hitched breath of horror, every racing heartbeat of fear.

"Remember this feeling,"

he continued, power thrumming beneath his words. His eyes never left Old Master Silver's face, watching decades of arrogance crumble into dust.

"The next time you think about killing someone else's son. The next time you decide to make other families suffer."

At that moment Old Master Silver's eyes lifted from his son's body, tears cutting paths down his proud face. His hands, which had signed so many death warrants, now shook with impotent rage and grief as he faced this new, terrible force that had brought death to his doorstep.

The hall trembled with Old Master Silver's rage, his grief transforming into murderous fury.

His aged face contorted, tears drying on his cheeks as cold calculation replaced paternal anguish. The man who had built an empire of fear emerged from behind the mask of a grieving grandfather.

"You dare..."

his voice rose from whisper to roar, spittle flying from his lips.

"YOU DARE BRING MY Grandsons BODY HERE?"

His hand shot up in a commanding gesture, fingers trembling not with sorrow now but with killing intent. His silk robe billowed as he straightened to his full height.

"KILL HIM!"

From every shadow of the grand hall, figures materialized like darkness given form. The elite secret forces of the Silver family - assassins whose very existence was merely whispered about in underground circles. Their black clothing seemed to absorb the chandelier light, weapons appearing in their hands with lethal grace.

Mrs. Silver's wails transformed into something more primal - a grandmother's grief turning to bloodlust. Her perfectly painted lips curved into a savage smile as she watched death converge on her grandmother's son's killer. Her manicured nails dug into the coffin's polished surface, leaving deep scratches in the wood.

However the servants pressed themselves further into corners, some closing their eyes, others unable to look away. Their starched uniforms rustled with their trembling as the air itself seemed to grow heavier with killing intent.

The assassins moved like liquid shadow, circling Ethan with the practiced precision of apex predators. Their blank masks reflected the crystal lighting, making them appear as demons come to claim a soul.

"You'll join our son,"

Old Master Silver snarled, his jade ring catching the light as he pointed at Ethan.

"Piece by piece."

However what happened next defied everything the Silver family thought they knew about power. Their elite killers, men who had ended lives across continents, moved with deadly precision toward Ethan - and fell like leaves in autumn.

"Impossible,"

whispered a servant, her hands clasped over her mouth.

The first assassin launched a strike that should have been invisible to human eyes. His blade gleamed in the chandelier light, promising death. Ethan caught his wrist casually, almost lazily, before sending him flying across the hall with a gentle flick.

The man's body crashed through an ancient vase, centuries of history shattering with his pride.

"What... What is he?"

Mrs. Silver's bloodlust crumbled into terror.

Immediately two more attacked in perfect synchronization, their weapons cutting through air in a deadly dance. Ethan stepped between their strikes as if they were moving in slow motion, his movements carrying an almost bored grace. One touch sent them crumpling to the floor, their masked faces registering shock before unconsciousness claimed them.

The remaining assassins hesitated - something unheard of in their bloody history.

At that moment Their perfect stance wavered, hands trembling slightly on their weapons. Old Master Silver's face contorted in rage and disbelief.

"Attack, you fools!"

he roared, spittle flying from his lips.

"Kill him!"

But each assassin fell easier than the last. Old Master Silver's face drained of color as he watched his ultimate weapons being dismantled like children's toys.

His wife's savage smile froze, then cracked, replaced by dawning horror.

She stumbled backward, knocking over a priceless lamp in her retreat.

However When the last assassin fell, the grand hall grew deathly quiet. Bodies lay scattered across priceless carpets, unconscious but alive - a demonstration of power more frightening than death.

The servants who had expected to witness an execution instead pressed themselves against walls, trembling as they realized they were in the presence of something beyond their understanding.

"Our best killers,"

Old Master Silver whispered, his jade ring clicking against his cane as his hands shook.

"Defeated like they were nothing..."

Standing among the fallen assassins, their unconscious bodies scattered across priceless Persian carpets, Ethan's voice cut through the terrified silence of the grand hall like a blade through silk.

"Let me be clear,"

he said softly, each word carrying deadly promise. The crystal chandeliers seemed to dim as he spoke, casting longer shadows across the scene of devastation. Several servants whimpered, pressing handkerchiefs to their mouths.

At that moment Ethan stepped closer to Old Master Silver, whose weathered face had lost all color, whose hands trembled so violently on his jade-headed cane that the precious stone clicked against the  floor. Decades of authority crumbled from the patriarch's bearing as he unconsciously stepped backward.

"If anyone else comes for me..." Ethan's calm voice made Mrs. Silver clutch her pearl necklace so tight it snapped, beads scattering across the floor like dropped tears.

"I'll return to this mansion,"

he continued, his words falling into the silence like stones into still water.

The servants pressed themselves further into corners, some closing their eyes, unable to watch this destruction of everything they'd believed untouchable.

" I will personally come and remove your head from your shoulders."

Mrs. Silver's strangled gasp echoed off marble walls, her perfectly manicured hands flying to her throat. Her husband, the great Old Master Silver, seemed to age decades in moments, his proud shoulders sagging.

At that moment Ethan turned away, stepping casually over unconscious assassins as if they were merely scattered furniture. His footsteps echoed through the silent hall like drumbeats of doom as he walked out, leaving behind a family whose legendary power had been stripped bare in a single night.

His men followed him out and they left.

Inside the grand hall, Old Master Silver knelt beside his son's coffin one last time, his weathered hand trembling as it traced Noah's cold features. Tears fell silently onto the polished wood, each drop carrying decades of pride turned to ash.

"My boy,"

he whispered, his voice cracking. "My precious boy..."

His wife's sobs had faded to quiet whimpers, her elegant form crumpled against a marble pillar, designer dress soaked with tears.

Rising slowly, his joints creaking with age and grief, he made his way to his private office.

Each step seemed to age him further, his jade-headed cane tapping a funeral march on floors. The room, lined with centuries of power and influence, felt smaller now, diminished by the night's events. Through the doorway, unconscious assassins still lay scattered through his halls like broken dolls.

At that moment Old Master Silver knows he's not going to take any of these likings, Ethan must but kill and he's going to do whatever it takes.

His fingers shook as he lifted the jade phone - a direct line to powers even the underground world didn't know existed. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he dialed the number spoken of only in whispers, even among the G-five circles.

"The Dragon Eye Cult,"

he spoke into the receiver, his voice carrying the weight of vengeance. His free hand clenched into a fist, His knuckles white with rage.

"I need their services."

The voice that answered carried ancient authority, seeming to drop the temperature in the room.

"The price will be... substantial."

However, Old Master Silver's grip tightened. Find your next read at empire

"Whatever the cost,"

he growled

"Whatever it takes, I want it done."