The Death Angel changed into a medieval noble's attire—a dark tailcoat adorned with golden patterns, exuding refined elegance. A man standing at the door replied, "Sir, it seems the treasure vault has exploded—the sound came from that way!" "Impossible," he snapped. "The vault has nothing capable of an explosion. How could the sound have come from that direction? Go investigate immediately—now!" "Yes," said several of his subordinates, who had barely finished turning around, when a series of explosions erupted, sending plumes of smoke mixed with fragments of concrete and stone shooting through the doorway. Those closer to the entrance were caught off guard, blown backward by the shockwave and crashing to the ground. "Sir, it might be an enemy attack," one of them shouted. What did "might" mean? It was clearly an attack—how could enemies have infiltrated such a secure location without being noticed? Right now, it wasn't the time to assign blame. They had to get out—now. Everyone knew they were deep underground, around fifty to sixty meters, and if they couldn't reach the surface safely, there would be only one outcome—being buried alive. Without waiting for the Angel of Death to issue orders, people began scattering in all directions. But explosions were everywhere, and most occurred within the corridors; before these panicking individuals had even taken a few steps, they were blown to pieces. Federle, bare-chested and missing an arm, rushed over and asked, "Sir, what's happening?" The Angel of Death shook his head, "I don't know either. Clearly, our area has been infiltrated by hostile forces, and we've been equipped with numerous bombs. Come with me to the secret evacuation corridor—hope it hasn't been discovered by the enemy. Otherwise, here will become our tomb." The two of them ignored the others and rushed toward the secret passage. As they reached the entrance and had barely pressed the elevator button, several explosions rang out, sending a powerful wave of air that pushed open the metal doors and knocked them to the ground. Yet they were unharmed—only the passage had been sealed off and was no longer usable. The intense shaking caused many support columns of the buildings to break one after another, turning this place truly into a cemetery. Since the explosion occurred high above the ground, no sound was heard—only a subtle tremor was felt beneath their feet. Qin Feng and Isabella stood on the grass, exchanging a glance and both smiling. "Sasha, wasn't it exciting?" Qin asked. "Decent, I suppose," said the elegant officer with a thoughtful tone. "Last time you destroyed the Isle of Death—the effect was quite similar. Isn't there a sense of familiarity?" "Uh," he blushed slightly, scratching his head. "The past is a bit overwhelming—ah, well, we've always focused on the present, rather than revisiting old stories. By the way, Sasha, do you think such an explosion will be enough to claim the lives of those two vampire elders?" The beautiful instructor shook her head and said, "I'm not sure, because vampire vitality is exceptionally strong. Moreover, those two are both noble-level vampires—they can survive for long periods under conditions of food and water scarcity, and as long as they have even a little air, they can maintain life. As long as they aren't blown to pieces, they're very likely to dig out and escape!" "Then, how long would it take to dig?" he asked again. "I don't know. Why don't we try it out?" the beautiful instructor blinked her large eyes. "No way! How can I let you risk your life like that? Absolutely not!" He extended his arm, gently cradling her slender waist, and smiled warmly. "Besides, I can't do without you right now!" Isabella looked at him with a graceful, charming expression, and gave him a withering glance, murmuring, "Go tell that to the other beautiful girls around you—there aren't any fewer of them than there are with me!" "Come now, Sasha, you've always held a special place in my heart," Qin, the young lord, said earnestly. Though her expression conveyed disdain, she was deeply satisfied internally. The two waited for several hours, yet neither of them dug a hole and emerged like a groundhog. According to the original plan, they were to remain here, but unforeseen developments compelled Qin Feng to make the decision to leave. These developments originated in Europe—Yapo, the young lady, had encountered difficulties. Despite being the world's wealthiest individual, Qin Feng ultimately could not overcome the Red-Scourge Mercenary Corps, suffering significant losses and sustaining injuries to his daughter, Yapo. On the flight to Europe, Isabella sat beside Qin Feng, holding a cocktail in her hand, and remarked, "If we fail to resolve the issues in the Americas decisively, we effectively grant the other side breathing room. Then, securing such substantial advantages as before will prove exceedingly difficult." Qin Dashi felt a bit惋惜, sighed, "Who could have thought that the young lady would reach out to me for help? Now I can't just ignore her matter. Let's try a different approach—The Red Kill Mercenary Corps is also one of King Fere's organizations. If we eliminate them, it won't be a complete severing of their arm, but at least we'll cut off one of their fingers!" "True enough," the beautiful officer nodded, asking, "Do you have any plans?" "Not really," Qin Dashi replied with confidence, "Once we arrive, we won't need to ask any questions. We'll just charge in and wipe them out—using the most straightforward method. For a group of mercenaries, there's no need for an elaborate plan; that would only waste time!" Indeed, for true experts, sometimes no plan at all is needed. The principle of 'meeting the enemy where he is, and responding to challenges as they arise' is often the most effective. Just as their planes were about to land, the ground beneath the grassy field suddenly rose, sending a flurry of grass blades and soil debris into the air. The Angel of Death rose into the sky, her two massive black membranous wings fluttering slightly, sweeping away dust and soil from around her. Feder followed closely behind, but he looked far more miserable than his master—his clothes were grimy, his face streaked with black ash, as though he had just stepped out of a coal mine. Finally free, both of them breathed a sigh of relief. "Sir, Qin Feng and that woman are not here," he said cautiously. "I know," the Angel of Death replied, gritting her teeth. "They didn't just destroy my assassin organization—they dismantled my entire base. I will not forgive them. Dispatch someone immediately to search for their hiding places. Make sure you find where they are."