System S.E.X. (Seduction, Expansion, eXecution)

Chapter 381: The Crimson Dress Matriarch

Ethan had spent the entire day inside the fortified hotel suite. Not a single member of his team had stepped outside; they remained entirely sequestered, unwilling to grant their watchers even the slightest opening for an ambush. The air in the room had been thick with tactical silence until the soft chime of a secure notification broke the tension.

A message from the Matriarch appeared on his screen: I have arrived. I am at coordinates XXXX-XXX-XXX.

"We’ll be there immediately, Matriarch," Ethan typed back.

Crul instantly alerted the team through their earpieces. There was no delay; within two minutes, the Falcons were at the door, fully geared and ready. Since their specialized Royal armored units were too conspicuous for this covert pickup, they had rented a fleet of standard high-end SUVs. In a city crawling with high-level cultivators, standard armor was a paper shield anyway, so they didn’t bother with pretenses. Three black SUVs formed a tight line and surged toward the pickup point.

As they arrived, a dazzling woman in a form-fitting crimson dress stepped out from the shadows of a private terminal. She moved with a predatory grace, heading straight for the middle vehicle where Ethan waited. A soldier opened the door for her with a deep, respectful bow. Despite her breathtakingly seductive presence, the Falcons kept their eyes locked forward, barely daring to breathe as the air around her seemed to vibrate with latent power.

She slid into the seat beside Ethan with a calm, practiced smile.

"Matriarch Blackwood, it’s an honor to have your company," said Ethan, nodding respectfully.

"Drop the formalities, Ethan. We left those behind a long time ago, and you know I loathe them. Call me Anne," she said, her voice a low, melodic purr.

"I wouldn’t dare, Matriarch..." Ethan began.

Before he could finish, her hand shot out, cupping his face. Ethan felt as if a hydraulic press had centered on his jaw. His bones gave a tiny, audible creak—a terrifying display of strength that placed her leagues above his own current power level.

"Call me Anne... understood?" she whispered, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that demanded absolute submission. She gave him a playful wink, though the pressure didn’t diminish.

Ethan realized he had no choice. Resigned, he managed a small nod. "Of course, Miss Anne."

She shook his head slightly, as if he were a stubborn child. "None of that ’Miss’ business. It makes me feel so far away from you. Just Anne."

"Of course, Anne. My apologies," said Ethan.

She gave his cheek a playful pinch before releasing him. "So, what are your plans for today, Ethan?"

"Honestly? None. I’m just hoping to leave this place without having to put on a show," said Ethan.

Anne let out a rich, dark laugh. "My, my. So, if the need arises, you came ready to put on a show? Are you prepared to face all the forces in the United States and bend them to your will?"

"That’s not what I meant, Anne. I only meant that if they try anything ’funny,’ I’ll make sure they pay the price for being complete idiots," said Ethan.

Anne laughed again, leaning back into the leather seat. "Alright, alright. Then your big sister will lend you a hand. Regardless of what happens today, I’ll make sure you get out in one piece."

"Then I’ll thank you in advance. With your presence, I feel entirely secure," said Ethan.

The convoy moved forward through the heart of D.C., eventually pulling up to the Capitol building. The area was decorated with opulence, a sea of luxury vehicles and high-ranking officials lining the entrance. As Ethan stepped out, he focused his mind.

"Crul, scan the reception. How strong are we talking?" Ethan thought.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed as the data from Crul flooded his vision. The air in the courtyard felt heavy, saturated with the presence of thousands of predators masquerading as dignitaries.

[Master, the scanner is active. I am detecting 18,920 signatures below Skin Refinement. 14,752 at the Skin Refinement level. 6,456 at the Bone Refinement level; Currently, every single guard in the courtyard is at that stage. No signatures at the Organ Refinement stage are detected in the immediate exterior area.]

Ethan absorbed the numbers. His vision began to overlay names and power levels onto every individual in the crowd, a digital heat map of potential threats.

Nearby, a man with a massive, bodybuilder’s physique and a perfectly tailored suit stepped forward. He held a small bronze leaf emblem. The guard at the gate took it, scanned it with a handheld device, and bowed deeply.

"Esteemed J. Simons, leader of the BrutalFang Mercenary Group. Please, enter," said the guard.

The flow of guests was a hierarchy of power. Shortly after, the crowd departed as a group of five walked with an air of cold superiority. They produced silver cards.

"Welcome to the Leader of Silver Mountain," said the guard.

But the atmosphere changed as a far more imposing group approached. Even those holding silver cards stepped aside, some even bowing as the new arrivals passed. Ten people dressed in striking red suits with black details marched forward. At their head was a beautiful woman with a provocative figure, wearing an incredibly short dress and massive boots that clicked sharply against the stone.

She produced a golden card. The guard’s posture became even more subservient, his voice trembling slightly.

"Miss Valentine, leader of Red Bloody Lake. Please, go right in," said the guard.

Anne, standing beside Ethan, let out a soft, mocking hum. She leaned in closer to his ear, her breath warm.

"A golden card? How cute. It seems the little ’Red Lake’ thinks they own the courtyard today," said Anne, her eyes shimmering with a dangerous amusement as she looked at Miss Valentine’s back.

Ethan didn’t respond immediately. He was watching the "R" insignia on his own men. They were at the Bone Refinement stage, equal to the guards, but he knew the technology and the Nectar gave them an edge. Still, seeing the sheer number of Bone Refinement cultivators in one place made him realize just how much of a powder keg Washington D.C. had become.

"They have removed the security for a ’meeting,’" Ethan said.

"Security? No, Ethan. This is a display of snacks for the wolves. Let’s show them what a real predator looks like," Anne said.

She reached into her small clutch and pulled out a card that didn’t shine with gold, silver, or bronze. It was a deep, matte black with a crimson crest—the Blackwood seal.