The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire-Chapter 204: Half Blood Moon!!!

Morning light washed over the grand gates of the Wraithbourne mansion, soft and golden, as if the house itself had decided to wake gently.

The doorbell rang.

Celina opened the door, her hair loosely tied, still carrying the quiet comfort of home rather than the sharp polish of the office. Her eyes widened just a little before curving into a smile.

"Miles?"

He stood there relaxed, hands in his pockets. "Celina? Not going to work today?"

She leaned against the doorframe. "I was. Then I heard a friend is visiting, so I stayed. After joining the office, it is not really every day that your friends come home."

Miles chuckled as he stepped inside.

The mansion felt alive again. Not loud, not busy. Just warm.

"Good morning Uncle Victor," Miles said as he entered the living room.

Victor sat on the couch, newspaper folded beside him, a cup of coffee in hand. He looked up and smiled. "Good morning young man. Have a seat."

A staff member quietly served coffee. The aroma filled the room, calm and inviting.

Miles took the cup. "How are you uncle? Last time I came here, it was for urgent things, so I could not talk to you properly. I apologize."

Victor laughed softly. "It is rare to see your generation talking like that. It makes me happy. We are all good here. Especially after dad came back. Tell me about you."

Miles nodded. "We are all doing great."

Victor relaxed into the couch. "That relieves me."

He studied Miles for a moment, then spoke again. "Tell me. What is it that you want to talk to him about so early in the morning?"

Miles did not hesitate. "It is something related to my grandfather, Timothy Sterling. I want to know about him. That is all."

Victor raised his brows slightly, then smiled. "I guess I should not interfere then."

Celina nodded quickly. "Yes dad, you should not. Hm."

Miles smiled at their exchange.

Celina turned toward him, curiosity soft in her eyes. "Tell me about the cuties. How are they doing?"

"They are growing up," Miles said. "They are doing well. Asher talks about science all the time, and Hope is interested in art. They are good students too."

Celina sighed dramatically. "Hey, do not let them grow up so early."

Victor chuckled. "What are you even saying?"

Miles shook his head with a faint smile. "It is not like they will be grown up by tomorrow. There is still time. I want them to enjoy their childhood properly."

Victor nodded thoughtfully. "Children are the real joy in a family when they are little."

Celina frowned. "Hey dad, what do you mean by that."

Miles laughed. "You are right Uncle Victor."

Celina crossed her arms. "Hey. You are the same age as me."

"That is different," Miles replied calmly.

Celina narrowed her eyes. "How."

A voice cut through the room, deep and steady.

"I knew you would come to meet me,Miles."

Celina turned instantly. "Grandpa."

Miles stood up at once, posture straight, respectful.

"Good morning, General."

Wilfred looked at Miles for a long second, the steam from his morning tea curling between them like a thin veil.

"Good morning, son. Come with me."

Celina and Victor exchanged a quiet look in the living room. Miles glanced at them both, questioning. Victor gave a small nod, calm and permissive.

Miles followed Wilfred into the drawing room. The door closed softly behind them, sealing the space into something heavier, more private.

Wilfred did not waste time.

"Tell me. This is about Silverline City, right."

Miles answered honestly. "Yes. I want to ask you for what purpose you met Basil Jefferson."

Wilfred turned slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. "So you are tracking me now."

"It is not like that, General," Miles said calmly. "I am tracking the Jeffersons. It was unexpected that you would meet him."

Wilfred sighed, the sound carrying old fatigue. "I was there only to ask about your grandfather."

Miles stiffened slightly. "So it is about him. I knew it. Is he there. In Silverline."

"I thought the same," Wilfred replied. "But no. Basil said he never met Timothy after his wife died."

Miles's eyes sharpened. "He was lying, right."

"I do not know," Wilfred admitted. "But I did not come back empty handed."

Miles frowned. "What do you mean."

"He told me about the meeting," Wilfred said slowly, watching Miles closely. "And about your plan to go to the Sylven Forest with them."

Miles's eyebrows rose. "He told you that."

"Yes," Wilfred said. "Listen to me, son. Why are you really going there. That place is very risky. From what I know, your grandfather went there once. And I heard he was the last person who actually returned."

Miles inhaled sharply. "When did that happen."

"A very long time ago," Wilfred replied. "Maybe when you were born."

Miles exhaled. "So we do not know where he is. Alive or dead."

"No," Wilfred said quietly.

"Do not worry about the Sylven Forest or the treasure hunters," Miles said. "I have a plan."

Wilfred studied him, then sighed. "Alright. Basil asked what you are actually planning."

Miles's voice rose, sharp and cold. "Basil. I do not care about him. He meddled in my affairs last time in Citadel City. I even let his son go after he tried to kill me. That was his last warning. Next time, if I sense anything against me, I am not going to keep loose ends. So if you talk to him again, tell him this. If he needs something, he can come and stand in front of me. Or go to hell."

Wilfred smiled faintly. "You sound like Timothy."

Miles looked away. "Seems like I am leaving empty handed."

"I am sorry," Wilfred said. "I could not help. But please be careful. There are many groups among the treasure hunters. And you are alone."

"So many," Miles replied. "I heard two of the groups will not be joining."

Wilfred frowned. "What do you mean."

"You do not watch the news," Miles said. "Watch it."

He turned toward the door. "I am leaving now. See you again, General."

Miles walked out of the drawing room.

Celina looked up immediately. "You done talking."

"Yes," Miles said. "I should go now. See you, Uncle Victor."

"Come again," Victor replied warmly.

Celina suddenly stepped forward. "Wait. Drop me to work."

Miles smiled. "Where is your car."

"I sent it without me," Celina said lightly. "I told the driver his boss is going to pick me up today."

Miles chuckled. "Let us go then."

Celina waved. "See you, dad."

They walked out together, the morning light following them as Miles started the car and drove toward the Wraithbourne office, the city unfolding ahead with quiet inevitability.

London - Curator's place

London was silent at midnight, the kind of silence that pressed against the walls like a held breath.

Elias slept peacefully, wrapped in dark sheets, his mind finally free from plans and calculations. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city leaking through heavy curtains.

His phone vibrated.

Once.

Twice.

Elias stirred, irritation flickering across his face. He reached out lazily, eyes half closed, until the screen lit up in his palm. The name made him sit up instantly.

He answered.

"It is midnight in London. Do you know that."

The voice on the other end was calm, measured, monk like.

"Mr. Elias. It is important. Watch the Vietnamese news."

Elias frowned. "What is it about."

"Just turn it on. You will understand the situation."

The call ended before Elias could respond.

Silence returned, but it no longer felt peaceful. Elias swung his legs off the bed and reached for the remote on the nightstand. His movements were slower now, cautious, a sense of unease creeping into his chest.

The television flickered on.

Vietnamese news. English subtitles.

The anchor's voice was grave.

"These terrible videos are from two places in Vietnam."

The screen filled with chaos.

Bodies scattered across a compound. Men sprawled where they had fallen. Rifles dropped mid reload. Bullet shells glinting under harsh white lights. Blood soaked into dirt and concrete.

Elias leaned forward.

His eyes widened.

These were not random dead people. He knew them

The Rồng Gang.

The Lưỡi Gang.

Both strong. Both ruthless. Both careful. Both part of the same hidden network.

Treasure hunters.

The anchor continued.

"These locations were bases of two most wanted gangs in Vietnam. Until today, they were never uncovered by authorities."

Elias clenched his jaw.

Impossible.

"According to locals, sudden sounds of gunfire erupted. Police were called, but when they arrived, it was already over."

Elias brought his hand to his mouth, teeth sinking into his knuckle.

The camera zoomed in.

Chest wounds. Every single body.

Perfect placement. No hesitation. No spray. No panic.

Then the camera shifted upward.

Foreheads.

Each corpse bore the same mark.

A red half moon, drawn.

Elias felt his stomach drop.

The anchor's voice cut deeper.

"As you can see, every individual was shot in the same place. And each one bears the same marking. A half moon. This confirms one thing. Both gangs were targeted by the same group. At the same time."

Elias whispered to himself, voice barely audible.

"No…"

The Rồng Gang and the Lưỡi Gang had no grudge between them. They had never fought. They had shared resources. Shared silence. Shared secrets.

They had only a few things in common.

And one of them is , they were treasure hunters.

The anchor continued speculating.

"What is this new group. Are they erasing crime. Or is this the beginning of a new gang in Vietnam."

Elias did not hear the rest.

His eyes were locked onto the screen.

Onto the half blood moon.

His mind raced.

Vietnam was too far.

Too precise.

Too coordinated.

This was not a local purge. This was a message.

His breathing grew shallow.

"Who did this."

His fingers trembled slightly.

No warnings.

Just execution.

Clean. Efficient. Surgical.

Elias replayed the image in his mind.

Chest shot.

Mark on the forehead.

His thoughts spiraled.

If it was only Vietnam, it could be coincidence.

But two bases. Two factions. Same night.

Same mark.

If it's related to treasure hunters.

Which meant related to him.

Elias swallowed hard.

The half moon burned into his vision, even as the screen changed to analysts and experts arguing in studios.