Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 503: Nyxvare’s Whereabouts

The ballroom was frozen.

Not metaphorically—literally.

Frost crept across the edges of the chandelier glass. The wine in half-filled flutes began to ice over. Breath became visible in the air, hanging like ghosts of words unspoken.

Helena stepped forward slowly, almost reverently, and placed a thick black folder into Grandfather Wilder’s weathered hands. Her eyes shimmered with something ancient as she whispered, "The acquisition paperwork is complete. Wilder Holdings now owns 86% of Ashford Global Media and its primary assets. The rest... will follow before midnight."

The old man didn’t speak. Not yet. He was still staring at the folder like it had grown fangs and promised him revenge with interest. freeweɓnøvel~com

But Parker—Parker had already stopped seeing the room.

His smile faded. His chest didn’t rise. His gaze turned distant, then icy, and then...

Unnatural.

Because in that moment, he heard it.

A voice, not spoken through sound or air, but directly into the architecture of his soul.

"Oh, Prince of Existence... I came to remind you not to look for your daughter."

The chill deepened.

"She won’t be in this plane for a while."

The ballroom light dimmed slightly. Shadows curled inward like they feared what was coming.

"While we’re gone, though... prepare for our return. Because it won’t be pleasant. Really!"

Then silence.

It vanished as suddenly as it came—like a blade withdrawn, leaving only the sting behind.

Parker didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

But the air had changed.

A pressure entered the room—one that hadn’t been there before. It was like the concept of warmth had been evicted. Even the light from the chandeliers began to flicker subtly, refusing to stay stable around him.

Maya stepped toward him first. She didn’t need an explanation. Her eyes found his, and her heart dropped.

"She’s not on Earth anymore... is she?" she asked quietly, already knowing the answer, voice trembling not with fear—but fury.

Parker nodded once, slow and heavy.

Tessa took two steps closer, her hand brushing his, not needing words. Zhang Ruoyun appeared beside them, his eyes scanning Parker’s face. The Phoenix of Yin and Yang said nothing—he didn’t need to. He felt it too. The daughter was gone. Taken across realms.

And someone had dared to send a message.

Parker’s face no longer wore expressions. Just a cold, blank smoothness that felt like the calm just before time itself cracked in half.

Then—

The Wilder family approached cautiously, led by Grandfather Wilder, still gripping the signed folder as if it was the last solid thing left in a world quickly tilting toward the divine.

The old man looked up at Parker—really looked—and for the first time in decades, he didn’t feel like the most powerful person in the room. Not even close.

He extended his hand. Parker took it, firm and respectful.

Luciano nodded slowly. "You didn’t have to do this. Not for us."

"I didn’t," Parker said, voice back to soft—controlled now, like a dagger sheathed in silk. "But you protected my mother. You stood against monsters when no one else did. That debt was already overdue."

The old man’s hand tightened slightly. "You could’ve let them burn."

"I still might," Parker murmured.

A beat passed between them. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was heavy, like a bond forming between men who had both seen the edge of things and returned. One by duty. One by birthright.

Luciano’s eyes narrowed. "You’ve had this planned for longer than tonight, haven’t you?"

Parker’s eyes flicked sideways to the ruined Ashfords, then back. "Old man, everyone except you is under my thumb, they just dot know it...yet."

The old man’s breath hitched.

"You’re saying... we’re the last?"

"I’m saying," Parker said, "you were the only ones worth saving."

For a moment, Luciano Wilder was silent. Then he let out a low, genuine laugh—gravelly and half in disbelief. "I’ll be damned."

"You were supposed to be," Parker said, eyes flashing cold for just a second, "but you weren’t. So here we are."

Luciano shook his head and gave Parker a long, unreadable look.

"Thank you," he said finally. "For everything."

"You’ll need to lead and my team will take care of your 30% while you lead your family," Parker replied. "I’ll be... elsewhere."

Luciano nodded. "Then we’ll hold the line."

Luciano Wilder drew a measured breath and faced Parker.

"Your mother pulled me out of oblivion," he said quietly. "Tonight, her son returned and gave me even a heavier debt tenfold. Thank you." His voice did not tremble, but the respect in it was ironclad.

Parker’s reply was equally spare. "She saved you; I just saved my woman, and her family was just a good and worthy addition. That’s all."

’Bwahahahaha’ so humble, you’re so humble! I’ll take that. My sweet girl’s in good hands."

"She’s no longer your sweet girl anymore, she’s mine now!"

Tessa slipped in at his side, lacing her arm through his; she wasn’t letting go. Luciano’s gaze flicked to her hand and softened.

**

Dominic Ashford had no such composure.

Sweat carved rivulets down his temples, darkening the collar of his bespoke shirt, as he stared at the portfolio now in Grandfather Wilder’s hands. The weight of it—not the paper, but what it represented—was bone-crushing.

Everything the Ashfords controlled. Everything they had built across empires, brokered through bloodlines and favors bought in shadows—all gone.

"You ruined us," Dominic said hoarsely, his voice raw with disbelief and shame. His eyes didn’t blink, locked on his son like a curse. "You opened the door to this circus."

Aleric stood like a statue trying to hold itself together with broken joints. His face still bore the imprint of impact—his pride bruised deeper than the flesh Parker had sent flying across the ballroom. And worse than that...

His ribs still ached from where Annabelle had kicked him—a sharp, brutal blow delivered without hesitation. In front of everyone. The gasp had been collective. The humiliation... permanent. He hadn’t just lost a business deal or a girl—he’d been desecrated.

Publicly. Visibly. Irreversibly.

"Father, I... I thought we could still—"

"Still nothing," Dominic hissed.

Still nothing," Dominic spat, his voice just shy of slapping. "Your grand plan invited a god into our ledger, and he wrote us out like we were a footnote in someone else’s prophecy."

He turned away, disgust curling his lip. "You thought playing ball with the Occult Division was power? What you brought through that door wasn’t influence—it was judgment."

Witnesses around the hall couldn’t look away. Fascinated. Horrified. Some in quiet awe. The Ashfords—one of the Five—were folding in on themselves like a collapsing star. Prestige, legacy, centuries of political dominance—all unraveling because one arrogant heir thought he could broker fate like stocks.

Aleric didn’t reply. Couldn’t. Not with Parker still standing there, arms crossed in silence like the final line in a ledger too large to comprehend.

"You let yourself get kicked across this ballroom like some street cur. By a girl. Then tossed by a man you should’ve bowed to from the moment he walked in. Do you even understand what you’ve done?"

He tried to breathe, but even that seemed borrowed.

Aleric’s lips trembled. Shame swirled in his gut like acid. He had thought he was orchestrating legacy. But now—he stood as the reason the Ashfords had collapsed in one night.

The hall was silent. Watching. Absorbing.

Then—

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Slow, sarcastic. A little too loud. A little too perfect.

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