America: The Cremator

A muffled gunshot echoed through the restaurant. Vasily's head slammed forward, crashing heavily onto the plate in front of him. The sound of shattering porcelain mingled with a large amount of warm, dark red blood, instantly splattering the surrounding white tablecloth and silver cutlery.

Yelena, who was sitting not far away, was startled by the sudden loud noise and bloody scene. Her small body shrank violently, and her face turned pale instantly. But out of instinctive fear, she bit her lower lip tightly and dared not make any cry.

"Come here, Yelena."

The little girl turned around and saw Vladimir extending his hand to her with a gentle expression.

She slid off the chair, trembling, and walked to Vladimir's side.

Vladimir bent down and hugged her, gently patting her back with his broad hands, and said in an almost loving tone, "Are you scared? Are you sad? That's normal, you can cry out loud."

"Your father must have been very good to you, but to the family, he was a bad man. He betrayed the family's trust and paid the price for it."

"Child, you are innocent. From this day forward, you will be adopted by Valentina."

Looking into Yelena's terrified eyes, he added earnestly, "I hope that when you grow up, you will become someone who contributes to the family and not repeat your father's mistakes."

Two waiters emerged from the shadows, skillfully lifted Vasily's body, and quietly carried it outside.

Yelena stood beside Vladimir, her eyes brimming with tears, her gaze fixed on her father's retreating figure as he was dragged away.

Vladimir looked down at the trembling little girl, gently patted her head twice, and said in a gentle voice, "You can go with them, Yelena. Go and see him off on his final journey."

Yelena turned her head, glanced at Vladimir, and then, with stiff legs, stumbled and followed the two waiters out of the restaurant.

Vladimir withdrew his gaze and turned to look at Suron, who was sitting on his left.

Just as the gun fired, the young man had put a thick piece of steak into his mouth.

At this moment, he was slowly and rhythmically chewing the piece of meat, his expression showing no discomfort despite the execution that was imminent.

Vladimir walked back to the front of the long table, placed the gun on it, then raised his glass slightly to those on either side of the table: "I apologize for disturbing the peace of the dinner. Let's toast, let this matter rest, and let tonight's dinner come to an end."

Sulong glanced down at the wine glass in front of him. A few drops of Vasily's blood had splattered on the transparent glass, creating an eerie visual contrast with the deep purple liquid inside.

Without hesitation, he reached out and grasped the stem of the glass, tilted his head back, and drank the red wine, which was mixed with the smell of blood, in one gulp.

Vladimir looked at the empty glass that Suron had put down and nodded with satisfaction. He placed his own glass back on the table and said, "Suron, you're a young man who knows how to adapt to his environment... Here, this is a gift I prepared for you."

The butler, who had been standing behind the main seat waiting for orders, immediately stepped forward upon hearing this, bowed slightly, and steadily handed the tray in his hands to Su Long.

In the center of the tray lay a delicate silver pocket watch.

The three elderly elders, who had been silent until now, tensed up the moment they saw the pocket watch appear.

Dania also opened her bright blue eyes wide and looked at her father in disbelief.

Sulong reached out and picked up the pocket watch from the tray.

The watch case has a dark silver hue that has aged over time, and its surface is engraved with intricate Byzantine-style patterns with deep, powerful lines.

The metal feels cold and heavy to the touch, and there is a noticeable feeling of heaviness when it is pressed into the palm of the hand.

He turned the pocket watch over and saw a string of Russian characters engraved in cursive script on the smooth back bottom: "Времяпришло (The time has come)".

"Mr. Vladimir, what does this mean?" Suron raised his eyes and looked at the gangster godfather standing in the main seat.

Vladimir placed his hands on the table, his deep gray-blue eyes fixed on Suron: "This is the highest-level token of our Yurievich family, and also a symbol of the executioner's identity."

"The executioner?"

Vladimir nodded, his deep voice continuing to echo in the quiet restaurant.

"The executioner is an extremely special position. He must come from outside the family, have no blood relation to the Yurievich family, and have no business interests involved with them."

"The sole purpose of this identity is to bypass the family's cumbersome elders' council trial procedures and directly execute those traitors who betray the family."

Vladimir's gaze swept over the three elders beside him, finally settling on Suron.

"I've never had a son; that's a fact known throughout the Seattle underworld. Although Dania is now grown up, she's not interested in the core affairs of the family."

"Under these circumstances, my brother Igor had some ideas he shouldn't have had."

"Two months ago, he traveled to Chicago with two members of the Presbyterian Church, ostensibly to explore new markets. He claimed to be there to help the family expand into new markets, but in reality, he wanted to start his own business."

Vladimir's voice turned low as he suppressed his anger, saying, "The internal situation of the family is now very complicated. Among those who were originally loyal subordinates, there are informants, spies, undercover agents, and traitors mixed in."

"I need a young person with an absolutely clean background and sufficient ability to help me clean up this mess."

Vladimir looked at Suron with a mixture of admiration and scrutiny, and said slowly, "People like this are hard to find. The streets of Seattle are full of idiots who would shoot for a few hundred dollars, but they don't deserve to pick up this pocket watch."

"Until Dania brought you to me."

Su Long lowered his head and pressed the button on the top of the pocket watch.

With a crisp click of the mechanical clasp popping open, the silver case back flips up, revealing a white enamel dial with Roman numeral markings inside.

The black, blued steel hands spun steadily on the dial, emitting a soft, regular ticking sound that could be clearly heard in the quiet restaurant.

He examined it for a few seconds, then closed the cover and put the pocket watch back on the tray.

"Excuse me, may I refuse?" Su Long looked up and asked in a calm tone.

Vladimir looked at the returned pocket watch, shook his head, and said with absolute confidence, "Of course you can refuse, but you won't refuse—you can't refuse my terms."

Vladimir's fingers tapped lightly on the table.

"First of all, I know you are investigating the group that sells 'Dream' drugs. Your investigation through official channels has been obstructed, and you have even been attacked by them with arms."

"As long as you accept this identity, we can help you solve all the problems in the underworld and find those rats hiding in the sewers."

He took a folded white sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward Surong: "The address inside is a secret trading point. You can get the highest-grade batch of 'Dream' drugs currently on the market from there."

Then, Vladimir's tone suddenly turned serious: "But remember, that area is public territory belonging to the Seattle underworld, and the eyes and ears of all parties are intertwined there."

"You can go there to investigate clues and obtain the information you need, but absolutely do not cause trouble there, otherwise you will attract unnecessary trouble."

Su Long looked at the blank sheet of paper that had been pushed in front of him, picked it up, and put it in his pocket: "It seems you weren't completely ignorant... but rather you were prepared all along."

Vladimir did not deny it; he waved to the back again. Another waiter carrying the same tray stepped forward and stopped beside Suron.

Su Long's gaze fell on the tray, and his brows furrowed involuntarily.

Three... silver coins?

Although silver is now almost half the price of gold in a world where it is needed to combat the supernatural, its production volume is so large that it can never reach a very high price.

If the only reward he received for cleaning up the house for the mob boss was pure silver, it would seem far too cheap.

Sulong stretched out his fingers and picked up one of the coins from the tray.

The moment his fingertips touched the metal, he sensed something was wrong.

This coin is very light; you can hardly feel the weight of metal when you hold it in your hand, but the surface feels unusually hard.

Judging from the cold luster reflected from its surface, this is definitely not a common lightweight metal such as aluminum or titanium alloy.

He concentrated, and a faint light appeared deep in his eyes, activating his spiritual vision.

Under the special perspective of his spiritual vision, the seemingly ordinary silver coin was now emitting an extremely pure and intense silver-white spiritual light, the intensity of which was no less than that of the two sacred objects in his hand.

The next moment, "Sirius" and "Raphael" hanging on Sulong's waist both trembled slightly.

A primal longing flowed through his connection with the sacred object.

They are eager to come into contact with this special metal!

Surprised, Suron dispelled his spiritual vision and looked up at Vladimir: "What is this thing?"

Vladimir crossed his arms, leaned firmly against the back of his chair, and said in a deep voice:

"You can call it Mithril."