This voice!

Ice-cold to the bone!

Filled with killing intent!

As if it emanated from the very depths of the Nine Nether Cold Pool!

It made everyone in the Yuecheng Hotel involuntarily shiver. Many people instinctively looked towards the hotel's entrance, but it was completely empty. No one had come; absolutely no one was approaching!

Yet, that voice, so filled with killing intent, felt tangible. It penetrated everyone's minds, chilling them to the core, making their bodies feel icy cold all over.

The person had not yet arrived, but their voice had!

It was just a voice, yet it filled every heart with immense fear.

If the speaker themselves were to appear, how terrifying must they be?!

In that instant, everyone surrounding Song Ningran felt as if targeted by a ferocious beast. It was as if the owner of the voice, along with the sound itself, had materialized omnipresent eyes, watching them from unseen places. They felt as if they were sitting on pins and needles! Cold sweat broke out on many foreheads. They wished they could flee immediately—escape this dangerous, terrifying place and distance themselves from the owner of that voice.

Yet, in the prolonged silence that followed, not a single person dared to move. Their instincts screamed that if they made the slightest motion, they would be instantly torn to shreds. Certain death awaited!

Just two words! Merely an intangible voice! Yet it terrified everyone present, leaving these usually influential and esteemed figures dumbfounded, their faces etched with disbelief and utter astonishment.

Silence! Utter silence! The lobby of the Yuecheng Hotel was so quiet it felt deserted; not a single sound could be heard.

Even the fierce and intimidating Zhao Zhongjian furrowed his brows. The oppressive force of the voice was immense; even he dared not act rashly. As for the others, they were so frightened they dared not move even a finger, terrified of provoking the voice's owner and incurring an unpredictable, unbearable punishment.

Secretary Lin, who had been about to forcefully remove Song Ningran's clothes, was now terrified by the voice. She slumped on the ground, pale as death, in a state of utter panic, trembling all over. Looking almost insane, she continuously shook her head and murmured, "No! No! Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I, I'm not a bad person, I was forced to do this! I beg you, don't kill me! AHHH!!" She screamed as if she had lost her mind.

Song Ningran was stunned, then a look of delight appeared on her face. "Qin Heng!" she exclaimed. "That's Qin Heng's voice! I told you, once he arrives, every single one of you will die!"

Silence descended around them as all eyes focused on her. Panic flickered in many eyes. After all, the voice's deterrent force had been immense; it felt as if merely hearing it could mean death. It was too terrifying!

An incredibly oppressive atmosphere spread. No one spoke. Everyone fell silent. The entire Yuecheng Hotel became so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

A soft laugh suddenly broke the prolonged silence, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

Jonson Charles!? It was actually him!? Zhao Zhongjian and the others were astonished to see him still able to laugh at such a moment, looking completely relaxed. Doesn't he fear the owner of that voice? they wondered.

"Miss Song," Jonson Charles began in his extremely awkward Chinese, "this... man called... Qin Heng, is he your... boyfriend? If I... in front of him... took you, what would happen?"

As these words came out, incredulous looks appeared on the faces of Zhao Zhongjian and the others. They stared at Jonson Charles in disbelief. What the hell! Isn't this too arrogant? Isn't he afraid of death? That voice was chilling to the extreme, like that of the God of Death from hell! And he's not afraid? He dares to say such things!?

"Sir Charles, what... what did you just say?" Zhao Zhongjian, somewhat anxious, leaned in and whispered with a smile, "How about we leave this place first? After some time, I'll bring this girl to you. That voice just now was indeed somewhat terrifying; I'm afraid something might happen to you."

"That voice just now must be what is known as voice transmission through the air in Chinese martial arts," Jonson Charles said with a light shake of his head, addressing Song Ningran. "It's said that an A-rank can master such a petty trick. To me, that level is nothing more than ants."

"What did you say? A-rank? Are you referring to a Grandmaster of Transcendence?" Song Ningran's expression was one of utter astonishment and doubt as she stared at Jonson Charles, her eyes widening. "You... you're also a Martial Artist!?"

"Nonono!" Jonson Charles waved his finger, smiling at Song Ningran. His gaze leisurely traversed her graceful figure, finally pausing on her face, like a hunter sizing up prey. "Miss Song, please allow me to reintroduce myself."

Having said that, he straightened his clothes, adjusted his tie, and adopted a posture of utmost formality, hands clasped as though resting on a sword.

Fluent English in a pure London accent filled the air:

"One of the inheritors of the titles of the Twelve Round Table Knights of England, inheritor of the title of Lake Knight Lancelot, Jonson Charles, at your service. I have had the pleasure of meeting the beautiful Miss Song Ningran. Now, I invite you to spend a delightful evening with me."

The Knights of the Round Table? Lake Knight? Lancelot? An inheritor of a title? Zhao Zhongjian and the others listened with baffled expressions, having no idea what Jonson Charles was talking about.

"I don't understand what you are saying," Song Ningran lightly shook her head, but inside, her heart was a tumultuous storm. She looked at Jonson Charles with disbelief. She knew what the Twelve Round Table Knights of England signified: the legends of King Arthur of Briton from two thousand years ago, who led the Knights of the Round Table. He wielded the shining Excalibur and commanded a group of powerful Knights, warriors who could even be compared to gods! Lake Knight Lancelot was one of the Twelve Round Table Knights. Now, this Jonson Charles claimed he inherited that title? What did that mean?

"You will understand," Jonson Charles said with a gentle, polite smile, the epitome of a refined gentleman. "Those who inherit the title of a Round Table Knight must at least be S-rank fighters. And after inheriting the title, I have acquired all the skills of Lancelot. My strength surpasses that of an ordinary S-rank. Do you know what that means?"

As he spoke, he extended a finger, aimed it toward the ground, and made a gentle slashing gesture.

BOOM!!

As if an earthquake had struck, the floor of the Yuecheng Hotel split open, a huge fissure instantly spreading across the entire hall as if cleaved by an invisible giant sword—it was terrifying! The surrounding people fled in panic, their faces stricken with horror as they stared at Jonson Charles.

This... this! Is this a power humans can possess? With a mere flick of his finger from a distance, a crack more than thirty meters long and over ten meters deep had appeared in the floor, nearly destroying the entire hall! It was horrifying! Truly too horrifying!

Zhao Zhongjian watched Jonson Charles in sheer amazement. Initially, he thought he might suffer some misfortune after the arrival of the voice's owner. But now, it seemed there was nothing to worry about! Jonson Charles was too strong, incredibly strong; he could certainly crush the owner of that voice!

"Miss Song, now you should see how powerful I am. Your boyfriend is no match for me," Jonson Charles said, still wearing a serenely confident smile as he regarded Song Ningran.

Jonson Charles had always been very confident in his own strength, especially after inheriting the Lancelot title and acquiring many special abilities, which had greatly increased his power. He even believed that he might be on par with the legendary Holy Spirit! In China, that would be the Martial Saint!

"Miss Song, come with me," Jonson Charles smiled. "By now, you should realize that the prince on a white horse you were hoping would rescue you doesn't actually have the strength to save you."

BOOM!!

At that moment, one of the hotel's walls suddenly buckled and shifted outward. A deafening crash followed as the earth shook and everything trembled! The concrete wall, weighing several hundred tons, toppled onto the ground as if smacked down by a primordial giant's palm. Dust billowed as a figure slowly walked in!

He was like an Immortal God from the Heavenly Realm, exuding an overwhelming aura, yet also like a God of Death returning from the Nine Nether, radiating an extremely cold murderous intent that instilled immeasurable fear.

Qin Heng stood atop the collapsed wall, his gaze sweeping the surroundings. Spotting Song Ningran, the murderous intent in his eyes intensified. Finally, his gaze rested on Jonson Charles, and he said indifferently, "Clown of the Lake, you bastard of England, come and meet your death!!"

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