Blackie was clearly pleased with Blackfin's awed reaction. He bared his sharp teeth in a wide, satisfied grin, then turned back toward the stunned crowd as if their shock were a personal reward.

"What are you all standing around for?" he barked. "The owner told you to leave. Move it, unless you want me to wipe this whole room clean."

Under normal circumstances, such a blunt dismissal would have ignited tempers on the spot. But after witnessing Blackie casually injure three Bishop-tier Mutants, any thought of resistance had been crushed. How powerful was he, really? Each of them had wealth, influence, and contingencies they trusted in, yet none of it seemed remotely useful now. As for money, could it even help in a situation like this? Ironically, if anyone had bothered to ask Ethan, he might have said yes without hesitation.

"Hmph! We're leaving!" Saint-Germain snapped, unable to fully hide the flicker of panic in his eyes. Pride forced him to give a final, disdainful snort, though his face had already gone pale. His three Mutants quickly closed in around him, their expressions tight and fearful.

Once Saint-Germain turned toward the exit, the rest of the magnates followed as if a silent signal had been given. Heads lowered, shoulders stiff, they queued behind him like scolded children desperate to escape punishment.

Ethan and his group were still near the entrance. Seeing the crowd approaching, Ethan calmly stepped aside to clear the path. Victor, Blackfin, Voss, Amber, and Rainie mirrored the motion without discussion, forming a neat line along the wall.

Then Blackie spoke again.

"'Hmph' my ass!" his voice boomed through the hall. "You get to leave and you still gotta 'hmph'?!"

Instead of moving aside, Blackie spread his arms wide and planted himself squarely in the doorway, completely blocking it. He jabbed a finger at the crowd, sweeping it back and forth. "Because of that 'hmph,' you, you, you, and all of you… nobody leaves!"

Ethan raised an eyebrow, a quiet thought passing through his mind. 'Now what is he planning?'

"What is the meaning of this?" Saint-Germain demanded, his face flushing a deep purple. He had already confirmed with his three guards that fighting was hopeless; their silent, grim headshakes had been enough to force him to swallow his pride. That was the only reason he had agreed to leave in the first place. And now this creature was blocking him outright?

"Meaning?" Blackie sneered. "You think your dried-up kidneys still work, old man? I'm not here for meanings. I'm here for a transaction."

His voice carried a deep, subsonic vibration that made the floor tremble and set teeth aching. "Listen carefully. Because of that stupid 'hmph,' there's a new exit fee. Half a million per head. Not a cent less."

The declaration stunned not only the trapped crowd, but even Ethan's group behind him. Several mouths hung open.

Ethan's thoughts raced. 'I'm too soft. This guy is a natural-born bandit. How did I not see it sooner?' Against his will, a flicker of admiration surfaced. Blackie was doing exactly what Ethan had briefly considered but ultimately decided against.

Still, this was the Serenity Hotel. What would the owner do?

As if summoned by the question, every gaze shifted to Henry, who remained standing on the staircase, expression unreadable.

"Henry, this is…" someone began, clearly hoping for intervention. Being forced out was one thing; being robbed at the hotel's doorstep was another. Half a million wasn't a devastating amount for most of them, but the humiliation burned. Yet faced with such overwhelming power, what alternatives were there? A terrifying Soul-Wielder, a four-element Mutant calling that Soul-Wielder "Boss," and the Boss himself had even stepped aside politely. And then there was this kid dressed in black, looking barely thirteen but carrying himself like a pirate king.

Even Voss was staring in disbelief. 'So this is the legendary Black Qilin?' he thought. 'He's more like a highwayman. Half a million per head… that's at least forty million already.'

All eyes remained fixed on Henry, waiting to see how the proprietor of the Serenity Hotel would handle this absurd situation.

Henry frowned deeply, displeasure clear as he looked at Blackie. He opened his mouth, then suddenly paused. Ethan, whose Soul Sense was particularly sharp, noticed the faint vibration from the nearly invisible earpiece Henry wore. A brief flash of surprise crossed Henry's face before settling into calm acceptance.

He cleared his throat. "The interior of the hotel is Serenity property. The area outside our doors is public space," he said evenly. "My apologies to all guests. Our rooms are unfortunately fully booked tonight, otherwise we would gladly offer complimentary lodging. Additionally, due to the damage sustained, renovations will be conducted. The noise would surely disrupt your rest."

With that, he lowered his gaze, unmistakably washing his hands of the situation.

The crowd was left speechless. Their eyes drifted back to Blackie, who was indeed standing just outside the threshold. A heavy sense of helplessness settled over them. Many had ruled the badlands for decades, yet none of them had ever been cornered so thoroughly.

More than a few venomous glances shot toward Saint-Germain. 'You just had to 'hmph,' didn't you? Couldn't leave quietly like everyone else. Had to prove you were tough. Now we're all paying for it.'

Fighting was impossible. Staying was impossible. Offending the Serenity Hotel was equally unwise. Henry's refusal to intervene made the newcomers' status painfully clear.

Handing over money so easily, however, was hard to swallow. Half a million alone was trivial, but many had brought sizeable entourages. Per head, the total climbed fast, and the thought made several hearts ache.

Just as some began calculating the damage and a few subtly tried to edge ahead of the seething Saint-Germain, another voice chimed in.

"Big Bro," Blackfin said, sidling up to Blackie and lowering his voice just enough to be theatrical, "these guys are loaded. Half a mil is way too cheap. Look at Saint-Germain here. His net worth has to be over 10 billion. That guy over there isn't far behind. Him, and her, and him too…"

He pointed out more than a dozen people in rapid succession.

The faces of those singled out darkened immediately. If glares could kill, Blackfin would have been reduced to ash. He didn't seem to notice, grinning up at Blackie as though his earlier beating had never happened.

Blackie's eyes lit up. "So how much then? What's fair?"

Blackfin paused, thinking hard, then raised a single finger with a confident grin. "We shouldn't be too unreasonable. How about this much?"

"Got it!" Blackie said cheerfully, spinning back toward the crowd. "You, you, and you, the ones he pointed at. One billion each. The rest of you, we'll keep the per-head rate."

"…Uh," Blackfin's grin froze in place.

Blackie tilted his head. "What? Too low?"

"N-no! Not at all!" Blackfin stammered, shaking his head vigorously. "You're the boss. You decide!"

'I meant one hundred million, you greedy lizard,' he screamed silently.

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