Pei Youguang returned to the group, dazed, regret clouding his thoughts. His older brother, Pei Tiancheng, noticed immediately, his brow furrowing.
"Youguang, where's your senior? Why didn't he come with you?" Pei Tiancheng asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. The others turned toward him, their expressions puzzled.
Youguang scratched his head awkwardly. "Haha, I got so caught up chatting that I... forgot to invite him over." A strained, uneasy smile spread across his round face.
The excuse fell flat, earning dissatisfied glances from the group.
"Second Master Pei, how could you forget something so important?" one of the girls asked, clearly unimpressed.
Youguang chuckled nervously. "Sorry, sorry... It just slipped my mind."
Pei Tiancheng paused, eyeing his brother before speaking. "It's fine. He has responsibilities here. We shouldn't disturb him."
His words carried weight, quelling the group's frustration. Still, an unspoken sense of disdain for Pei Youguang lingered in the air.
Sensing the tension, Ye Chenglin clapped his hands, drawing attention back to himself with a grin. "Alright, everyone! The night isn't over. How about we check out the suite where that guest died? Who knows, maybe we'll find something thrilling!"
---
Meanwhile, Zhao Dequan, the driver who had brought Xue Jing to the hotel, was carefully pushing a cart loaded with an elaborate, towering cake toward the elevator. The cake, stacked seven or eight layers high, was meant for the banquet on the 22nd floor.
As the hotel manager, Zhao Dequan usually wouldn't handle such tasks himself. But considering the importance of the guests, second-generation elites of influence—he had decided to oversee things personally, hoping to make a few connections.
"Ding—"
The elevator doors slid open, and Zhao Dequan cautiously maneuvered the cart inside.
"Hmm?"
He noticed a tall figure already in the elevator. The man was dressed head-to-toe in a black tracksuit, a baseball cap pulled low over sunglasses that obscured his eyes, and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His hands were hidden under construction gloves. Beside him stood a cart carrying a large, rectangular object wrapped tightly in black tape.
"Uh... hello," Zhao Dequan greeted, unease creeping into his voice.
Since the unsettling incident yesterday, most guests had checked out, leaving the hotel eerily quiet. Seeing someone in the elevator at this hour sent a chill down Zhao Dequan's spine.
The man's outfit didn't match any hotel staff uniform, and his silent stance was unnerving.
Zhao Dequan, experienced and cautious, swallowed his nerves. He knew better than to involve himself in something suspicious. The police handled criminals, security managed safety—his job was to mind his own business.
As the elevator doors closed and they ascended, a creeping unease filled the small space. Zhao Dequan felt the man's hidden eyes bore into the back of his neck, sending cold sweat trickling down his spine.
"Ha... it's unusually warm today, even though it's almost November," Zhao Dequan muttered, awkwardly dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief.
The man said nothing.
Zhao Dequan fidgeted with his cart, his fingers twitching anxiously on the handles. The silence felt oppressive, the elevator's slow ascent dragging on.
17th floor... 18th floor... 19th floor...
Just before they reached the 22nd floor, a soft rustling came from the man's cart, breaking the silence.
The sound reminded Zhao Dequan of his old apartment—how, late at night, he could hear the scuttling of cockroaches across his bedframe, their tiny legs scratching against the wood...
His heart began to race.
The man in black slowly turned his head toward Zhao Dequan. Even though his eyes were hidden, Zhao Dequan could feel the man's gaze fixed on him.
"Ding—"
The elevator door slid open.
"Sav—"
Zhao Dequan's cry for help was cut short as his head was severed from his body in one swift, brutal motion. Blood spurted from his neck, splattering across the pristine cake, staining it into a grotesque, red-drenched version of itself.
"Tch," Duan Kaiping muttered, wiping his bloodstained hands on Zhao Dequan's lifeless body, disgust clear on his face.
The rectangular object on his cart began to shake violently, the black tape binding it cracking under pressure, as if something inside was trying desperately to escape.
Panic flickered across Duan Kaiping's face. "Shit, it smells blood—and I haven't fed it in over a day. It's going to lose control!"
Without wasting another second, he kicked Zhao Dequan's corpse aside, grabbed the thrashing cart, and bolted down the hallway.
Reaching the banquet hall entrance, the container shook with increasing ferocity, the tape snapping loudly.
"Damn it!" Duan Kaiping cursed under his breath. Desperately, he shoved the cart toward the banquet hall doors, pulling out a small remote control from his pocket.
A red button glowed ominously on the device. Duan Kaiping turned and sprinted toward the emergency stairwell, his footsteps quickening as he pressed the button.
In a hidden corner of the 22nd floor, a small black device began to blink, its red light flashing in warning.
"Beep... beep... beep..."
---
Inside the banquet hall, Xue Jing was politely trying to shake off the advances of a girl in a revealing off-shoulder dress, a coy smile playing on her lips.
"I don't have a phone. No WeChat," Xue Jing said, shaking his head.
"Aw, don't be like that, handsome~ Just add me. I won't bite," she teased, tightening her grip on his arm and pressing his hand against her chest.
Xue Jing remained calm, though inwardly, he sighed at the persistence of wealthy women. Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
The girl's eyes lit up, mistaking his reaction for interest. "See? Now we're getting somewhere~ Go on, add me, and I'll share all sorts of secrets with you~" she whispered seductively.
But Xue Jing wasn't listening. Reaching into his pocket, his fingers brushed against his phone, a faint tingle running through his hand—a sensation only his heightened awareness from practicing the Armor-shaking Technique could detect.
Before he could process the feeling, his phone screen went black.
At the same time, the lights in the banquet hall flickered out, plunging the room into complete darkness.
"Huh? What's going on?" someone blurted, confusion spreading through the crowd.
"Is this a power outage?" another voice asked.
"Wait, my phone's dead too... What's happening?" Panic was rising.
The room buzzed with uneasy murmurs.
Xue Jing frowned, tapping his phone. He was sure the battery had been fully charged. But what troubled him more was that no one else in the hall had managed to turn on their phone either. Something was off.
The lights, the phones—everything had shut down. This wasn't just a power failure.
"EMP..." Xue Jing muttered under his breath, the realization dawning on him.
An electromagnetic pulse, capable of instantly wiping out all electronic devices.
"Oh my god, it's so dark!" the girl beside him squealed, clinging tighter to Xue Jing's arm. "You have to protect me, handsome!"
She giggled nervously, still treating the situation like a game, her mind far from grasping the danger.
Then, a loud crash echoed from the entrance of the banquet hall.
"Bang!!"
Glass shattered, followed by the thud of something heavy hitting the floor.
"What the hell was that!?" someone shouted, alarmed.
"That scared the hell out of me!"
"Ahhh!" the girl screamed, clinging desperately to Xue Jing.
Xue Jing stepped forward, his body tensing. His sharp instincts sensed something lurking in the shadows, an unseen threat creeping closer, ready to strike.