LOGINBecause Sterling Industries had "unexpectedly" won its showdown with Vance Capital, the once-struggling family business was suddenly back in the spotlight of New York's high society.
A gold-embossed invitation was delivered to the Sterling estate.
—The "Heart of the City" Annual Charity Gala.
It was one of the most prestigious social events in all of New York City. To receive an invitation was to be among the elite of every industry.
Susan Sterling was so excited she could barely sleep for days. In her eyes, this was the perfect opportunity for the Sterling family to reassert its prestige. To showcase the family's "harmony" and "dignity," she insisted that Jack must attend as Katherine's escort.
"Remember, Jack," Susan nagged endlessly before they left, her critical eyes scanning the ill-fitting, rented tuxedo Jack was wearing. "Once you're there, you don't say a word, you don't do a thing. Just follow behind Katherine, hold her handbag, pass her champagne. If anyone asks, you just say you're her personal assistant, understand?"
Jack nodded meekly, seemingly unfazed by the humiliating arrangement.
The gala was held in a luxurious hotel on the top floor of a Manhattan skyscraper. Crystal chandeliers glittered like a galaxy, elegant classical music flowed through the air, and impeccably dressed men and women mingled with champagne glasses, creating a tableau of glamorous and hollow high society.
When Katherine walked in with Jack on her arm, they immediately drew everyone's attention. Katherine was breathtaking in a moon-white haute couture gown, as ethereal and noble as a moon goddess. But when people saw the man beside her, in his cheap tuxedo and slightly awkward demeanor, their eyes filled with a knowing disdain and mockery.
"Is that the Sterling family's live-in son-in-law? He looks... really average."
"I heard Preston Vance was 'jinxed' by him. What an unlucky star." "Such a shame for Katherine. A beautiful flower wasted on a pile of manure."The whispers buzzed like flies. Katherine's body tensed unconsciously, but Jack seemed completely oblivious.
His hearing, enhanced by his Alpha bloodline, was now like a high-precision radar. He wasn't listening to the boring gossip at all; instead, he was filtering and capturing all the valuable information in the room.
"...Hammer Industries is bidding for that piece of land in the east district. I heard they have some cash flow problems..."
"...The vice president of Morgan Bank is under internal investigation next week. The tech stocks he holds will definitely be sold off..." "...I heard the mysterious founder of the 'Aegis Foundation' is also here tonight. I wonder which big shot it is..."Countless business secrets and insider tips flowed into his brain like data streams, rapidly analyzed and integrated. To him, this gala wasn't a social event; it was a gold mine of information.
Susan, on the other hand, was parading around her circle of socialites like a proud peacock. To show off her family's "uniqueness," she embellished the story, implying that Vance's downfall was directly related to a "talisman" blessed by a high lama from Tibet.
"Not only that," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "my son-in-law, you may not think much of him, but his cooking is absolutely divine! Even New York's most discerning food critic, Mr. Anthony Hopkins, has nothing but praise for him!"
She was purely making things up to make herself look good.
But no sooner had she spoken than an elderly gentleman standing nearby, with graying hair and dressed simply like a retired professor, turned around and asked with a smile, "Oh, is that so? I am Anthony Hopkins. And where does this gentleman work, may I ask?"
Susan's face instantly turned beet red.
This Anthony Hopkins, publicly a food critic, was in reality the founder of the Hopkins Restaurant Group, a multi-billionaire who was notoriously low-key.
The tycoon's gaze passed over the embarrassed Susan and landed with interest on Jack. Jack gave him a respectful nod and chatted briefly about the nuances of sauce-making in French cuisine. His professional and unique insights made the tycoon's eyes light up, and he proactively offered his personal business card.
Susan stood by, regretting everything. Her one foolish boast had ended up handing a top-tier connection to the son-in-law she despised the most.
Just then, Jack suddenly felt something strange.
It was a peculiar sensation from deep within his bloodline, a feeling of both attraction and repulsion towards his own kind.
His gaze cut through the crowd, precisely locking onto a shadowy corner of the ballroom. A man stood there, tall, wearing a waiter's uniform, but his eyes were like those of a lone wolf in the night, filled with vigilance and scrutiny. The calm, mountain-like aura he exuded was definitely not that of an ordinary waiter.
For the first time, the supernatural world had unveiled a corner of its mysterious veil to Jack.
"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Miller. What's the occasion? Done with cooking and trying your hand at being an errand boy?"
A malicious and provocative voice interrupted Jack's thoughts. Alex, with his posse of rich kids, swaggered over, clearly intending to humiliate Jack in public.
Jack's eyes instantly turned cold.
However, before he could speak, a cold and firm voice sounded from beside him.
"He is my husband, Jack Miller. The master of the Sterling family."
Katherine, contrary to her usual demeanor, took a step forward and tightly linked her arm with Jack's. She lifted her beautiful face, her gaze as sharp as a blade as it swept over Alex and his friends, and declared, word by word:
"Anyone who disrespects him is officially declaring war on all of Sterling Industries."
The entire room fell into a stunned silence.
This was the first time Katherine Sterling had so forcefully defended the status and dignity of her "live-in" husband in such an important public setting.
Jack could clearly feel the arm Katherine had linked with his trembling slightly from the force of her grip. A wave of warmth instantly spread through his entire body.
Alex's face turned shades of green and white before he finally retreated with his friends under Katherine's powerful aura.
The immediate crisis was averted, but Jack's brows furrowed.
His extraordinary hearing had just picked up a conversation it wasn't supposed to.
In another corner of the ballroom, David Sterling was clinking glasses and speaking in low tones with another man in a suit. That man was the CEO of Hammer Industries, Richard Hammer.
"...The plan is all set. The final item at tonight's charity auction is that piece of land in the east district. We'll work together to drive up the price and make that foolish woman Katherine think it's a treasure. As long as she buys it, Sterling Industries will go bankrupt from a broken capital chain within three months!"
"And then, we'll join forces and swallow it whole at the lowest price..."
A murderous glint flashed in the depths of Jack's eyes.
The golden grid enveloping the Earth and Moon hummed with the oppressive weight of celestial litigation. It wasn’t a physical wall, but a smart contract written into the fabric of localized physics. Nothing faster-than-light could leave. Nothing could enter. Earth was officially under cosmic embargo.In the subterranean command center of Sterling Tower, the atmosphere was tense. The massive holographic globe in the center of the room displayed the golden barrier pulsing rhythmically."The Remnant Fleet is effectively paralyzed," Commander Val-Kor’s holographic projection reported, his crystalline features tight with frustration. "Our impulse engines function, but any attempt to initiate slipstream travel results in a total system override. We are trapped in this system, Planet's Alpha."Jack leaned over the tactical table, his golden eyes analyzing the grid. "It's an injunction. The Cosmic Shareholders can't kill us outright because of my capital res
The lunar command center was bathed in a flawless, piercing golden light. The spatial rift hovering above the ruined consoles did not tear or violently warp reality like the Devourer’s dark magic; it sliced through the fabric of the universe with mathematical perfection. Jack Sterling stood his ground, the apocalyptic energy of the absorbed lunar meltdown still humming beneath his skin. His dark-gold eyes locked onto the rift. Beside him, Marcus raised his massive shield, and Katherine seamlessly brought her void-sniper to bear, her breath frosting the air. From the golden fissure stepped a figure of terrifying symmetry. It appeared humanoid, but its skin was forged of polished, featureless brass. It wore a suit composed of shifting geometric light, and in its hand rested a perfectly balanced golden scale. It possessed no face, only a single, glowing white sigil where a mouth should be. "Designation: Jack Sterling. Status: Unauthorized Market Anomaly," the entity spok
Red warning sirens wailed through the crumbling Ouroboros base. The floor vibrated violently as the stolen Genesis energy in the lunar core reached critical mass. Valerik laughed, a wet, rattling sound, eager to drag the Planet's Alpha down into a fiery grave with him."Fifty seconds!" Katherine shouted, her tactical HUD flashing with urgent radiation warnings. She stood beside Marcus, projecting an absolute-zero frost dome over the three of them to ward off the rapidly rising ambient heat. "Jack, the core is going hyper-critical. If that detonates, the shrapnel will rain down on Earth like a shotgun blast. We have to fold space and get out of here!""If we leave, Earth takes the hit," Jack said, his voice a calm anchor in the storm of chaos. He walked toward the main reactor viewing port, staring down into the blinding, boiling mass of volatile energy below. "I'm not letting these squatters trash my neighborhood.""Jack, what are you doing?" Marcus asked, stepping up
The dark side of the Moon was supposed to be a dead, silent wasteland. Instead, it housed the Ouroboros Lunar Command—a sprawling, heavily fortified citadel constructed from black lunar rock and shielded by thick layers of plasma-reflective energy domes.Inside the central command center, Commander Valerik stood before a massive holographic display. He was a cybernetically enhanced giant, his body a fusion of pale alien flesh and heavy dark-matter machinery. He watched greedily as the energy siphon meters climbed."The extraction is proceeding at maximum capacity," a technician reported, his hands flying across the console. "We have secured enough Genesis energy to power the deep-space beacon. The true Architects will hear us."Valerik sneered, his metallic jaw grinding. "Let Sterling have his dirt ball. By the time he realizes we used his planet as a battery, the Architects will arrive and wipe his entire pathetic species from the cosmic ledger.""Sir!" an
The countdown hit zero, but the Earth did not simply shatter. It screamed.A deafening, tectonic groan tore through the bedrock of Manhattan. The plaza beneath Jack Sterling’s boots splintered like fragile glass, revealing a terrifying abyss of boiling magma and pulsing, corrupted red light. The planetary drill had done its job. It had pierced the mantle and aggravated the Genesis Seed—a primordial entity slumbering within the Earth’s core. Massive, molten tendrils thicker than skyscrapers erupted from the chasm, reaching toward the sky with a blind, destructive hunger."You are too late, Sterling!" High Priest Malakor shrieked, dangling helplessly from Jack’s grip. Even facing death, the Ouroboros fanatic was drunk on his own apocalyptic victory. "The World-Breaker is awake! It will consume your cities, boil your oceans, and crack this pathetic mudball into a billion pieces! You are the Planet's Alpha? Let us see you command a dying world!"Ja
Above the Earth, the orbital defense grid was in ruins.The Purifier faction of Ouroboros had struck with lethal precision. Three massive, wedge-shaped stealth dreadnoughts hung over the atmosphere of New York, raining suppressed orbital strikes down on the city.At the base of the ruined Sterling Tower, the situation was desperate.The remaining Urban Fangs and Aegis security forces were pinned down behind makeshift barricades. Aaliyah was frantically typing on a scorched terminal, trying to keep the subterranean blast doors closed. Ben Carter, his vampiric eyes glowing red, was firing a heavy plasma rifle, his suit covered in ash and alien blood.In the center of the plaza, a massive, terrifying machine was deployed. It was a planetary drill, composed of vibrating, dark-matter rings, slowly eating its way through the bedrock, aiming straight for the Earth's mantle.Standing atop the drill was High Priest Malakor, the leader of the Purifiers. He was clad in







