With a thud, Eric Carter forcefully tossed the empty wine bottle aside, casually wrapped an arm around a handsome young host beside him, crossed his legs, and laughed, “I heard that ever since that guy surnamed Shen came to Shenhai from City B, all you Shenhai Evolvers have been caged up like birds. Is it really that suffocating?”

A group of well-dressed, idle rich friends were gathered in the booth. One of them gave a wry smile: “Come on, Brother Carter, your family can do whatever it wants in City B, but here in Shenhai, you’d better be careful. You haven’t seen what Brian Sullivan is capable of…”

The others all nodded in agreement, looking uneasy. Seeing this, Eric Carter scoffed, “You bunch of cowards. That Shen guy wasn’t so arrogant back in City B. How come he’s got you all under his thumb the moment he comes to Shenhai?”

The group exchanged glances. The one who spoke earlier grew curious: “What, Brother Carter, you know his background?”

They were all quite drunk by now. Normally, none of them would dare gossip about Brian Sullivan behind his back. Eric Carter burst out laughing and waved his hand: “What’s there I don’t know? That Shen guy started out in academia, was a director at the Central Research Institute, specialized in using Evolvers for human experiments. There isn’t a single Evolver who doesn’t hate him. If it weren’t for Kevin Foster protecting him, he’d have been killed a thousand times over by now…”

“Kevin Foster?” someone slurred, “Wasn’t he the head of the Central Supervision Office back then? Why would he cover for Shen?”

Eric Carter snickered, his eyes openly mocking and lewd. He leaned forward and lowered his voice:

“What do you think, why?”

These were all people who played hard. At his words, they fell silent for two seconds, then burst out laughing, all understanding without a word.

The young host in Eric Carter’s arms shifted uneasily, propping his chin up with one hand, trying to casually cover the earring-shaped listening device, but was quietly stopped by another female host.

The two exchanged a glance while pouring drinks, both their faces visibly pale.

“Brother Carter.” The girl was clearly more experienced, forcing a flirtatious smile. “Why talk about such a buzzkill? Come on, help your little sister roll the dice…”

“Wait a minute,” someone on the other side of the booth leaned over curiously, “Didn’t Kevin Foster die ages ago? I vaguely heard he was killed by Brian Sullivan himself?”

The “hostess” jolted, nearly snapping her manicured nail.

Eric Carter swirled his whiskey, legs crossed, and said, “Don’t kid yourself. You really think Shen is a normal person? He hates Evolvers. He’s a psychological freak who likes to train people into dogs. If he can’t break you, he’ll find a way to kill you. Even if you lick his boots, it’s useless!”

He laughed at his own words: “—I just don’t get it. What does that Shen guy even look like, to make Kevin Foster hang himself on his poisonous tree?”

The group erupted in raucous laughter.

Brian Sullivan was extremely low-key, rarely showing his face. No one present had seen him in person, but rumors of his good looks circulated in high society, leaving everyone half-believing, half-doubting.

“Maybe Shen’s really wild in bed?” “He must be!” “Who knows what goes on behind closed doors, hahaha…”

The young host’s face was deathly pale. If you looked closely, you’d see his pupils trembling, one hand clamped tightly over his earring, but it was no use.

The filthy talk was being transmitted, loud and clear, through the listening device to a command vehicle parked not far from the nightclub entrance—

Brian Sullivan sat before the monitor, the screen’s glow casting cold light on his chiseled profile, betraying no emotion.

Everyone in the vehicle held their breath, wishing they could turn invisible.

“Given his age, how did he climb to the top position at the Central Research Institute back then? Who’d believe there wasn’t something dirty going on…”

At last, Brian Sullivan pressed the mic button. His voice was calm and clear, not a hint of emotion, as if it wasn’t him being fantasized about by a bunch of men in the club:

“Stop the pointless discussion. Shift the topic to the Evolution Source trade.”

Back in the nightclub booth, the young host swallowed hard.

Eric Carter remained oblivious, still crossing his legs: “It’s because Kevin Foster died that everyone in the Central Supervision Office wants to kill Brian Sullivan to vent their anger. He was demoted and kicked out of the Institute…”

“Ah!”

A sudden cry— the young host accidentally knocked over his glass, spilling champagne all over Eric Carter’s clothes.

“Brother Carter, I’m sorry, Brother Carter, I’m sorry, let me wipe it for you!”

Eric Carter clearly had a special taste, showing more patience for the young, good-looking “bar boy.” Not only was he not angry, he even laughed and reached for the boy’s hand.

Just then, the “hostess” leaned in with perfect timing, her eyes sharp as she deftly plucked something from Eric Carter’s neck: “Hey, Brother Carter, what’s this?”

Eric Carter wore a leather cord around his neck, from which hung a metal case shaped like a pocket watch, but inside was no watch.

It was a stone, about the size of a bottle cap, glowing with a faint blue light.

Eric Carter’s expression changed instantly. He snatched the stone back and shoved the hostess away: “Don’t touch! Get out!”

With a crash, the hostess fell to the floor, her face drained of color in fright. The people around all stood up, their faces changed: “What are you doing? Get her out of here!”