My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible

Chapter 637: The Party Ends

The party continued, drifting into that specific, quiet territory that all good evenings eventually reach.

The music dropped in tempo, shifting from a driving rhythm to a low, resonant ambient sound that filled the vast architectural spaces of the cathedral-like venue without overpowering the conversations.

The golden, breathing lattice of the ceiling slowed its pulse, mirroring the settling energy of the room.

People were no longer moving across the floor in large groups. Instead, they had formed localized ecosystems, anchoring themselves in the plush, jewel-toned seating, connecting with each other in ways that would have been impossible anywhere else on Earth.

For the Bellemere Family Office staff, this winding-down period was profoundly significant. The regional office staff—who had been flown in on chartered Gulfstreams from London, Tokyo, Dubai, and Singapore—were acutely aware that this might be the only time they occupied the same physical space as the headquarters team for a very long time, perhaps ever.

They exchanged quiet, intense conversations, sharing operational notes and mutual disbelief. They were the financial stewards of an empire that defied physics, and sitting together in a room made of liquid light and alien flora forged a bond among them that no corporate retreat could ever replicate.

Elsewhere, the parents of Liam’s friends were navigating the evening’s final stages with an entirely different kind of networking.

Whitlock, holding a fresh glass of scotch, found himself in a deeply engaged conversation with Jim Henderson, Matt’s father, and Robert, Kristy’s father.

In the traditional terrestrial hierarchy, the CEO of JP Morgan did not casually hand out his personal contact information to small business owners and regional professionals. But Whitlock had spent the evening radically recalibrating his understanding of value.

He understood that the people in this room were not valuable because of their market caps; they were valuable because they were the grounding wires for the most powerful entity in existence.

"I mean it, Jim," Whitlock said, seamlessly pulling out his phone. "When you’re looking to expand the logistics side of your firm next quarter, call me directly. Don’t go through the commercial banking desk. We can structure something that makes sense."

"I appreciate that, Whitlock," Jim said, accepting the contact card with a firm nod.

He was a practical man, but he wasn’t blind. He knew exactly what kind of door had just been opened for his family’s business.

Robert exchanged contact details with Whitlock a moment later, the two men agreeing to a quiet lunch in New York the next time Robert was on the East Coast.

The parents were securing generational stability for their families, and Whitlock was securing proximity to the people Liam Scott actually cared about. It was a flawless exchange of trust.

As the time crept deeper into the early hours of the morning, the natural conclusion of the event made itself known. The conversations began to wrap up, the laughter growing softer, the guests intuitively understanding that it was time to let the night end.

Liam rose from the emerald sofa, offering a quiet word to his friends before stepping away to handle the first round of farewells.

He walked across the polished black stone floor toward the edge of the room, where Master Han, Luo, and Chrises were standing together, quietly observing the final moments of the gathering.

"I hope the evening wasn’t too overwhelming," Liam said as he approached them.

"Not at all, Boss," Chrises said, her sharp smile returning. "Though I have to admit, your home world is... interesting. The people here possess absolutely no internal mana, yet they carry themselves with a very specific kind of confidence. It’s fascinating to watch."

Master Han bowed deeply, his previous terror having settled into a profound, unshakable reverence. "It was an honor beyond words, Master. To witness the bonds you share with your people... it illuminates the depth of your Dao."

"I’m glad you came," Liam said gently. He paused, his expression shifting slightly, adopting a fraction of the weight that usually accompanied his decisions. "I will be leaving in a few days. I wanted to see you before I depart."

Luo’s eyes widened slightly, and Master Han’s posture stiffened with attention, but neither of them asked the question that was clearly burning in their minds.

"We wish you a safe and prosperous journey, Grandmaster," Luo said respectfully.

"Thank you," Liam nodded. He looked at the young woman. "Chrises, the store is in your hands."

"It always is, Boss. Safe travels," she winked.

Liam didn’t gesture to Lucy or ask for a portal. He simply raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The spatial displacement was instantaneous and utterly silent. There was no flash of light, no rush of wind.

One millisecond Chrises was standing there, and the next, she was simply gone—folded back across the boundaries of reality, deposited safely back into the Mana Universe.

Master Han and Luo did not flinch, though the casual display of cross-universal spatial manipulation only deepened their awe.

"A transit drone is waiting for you both outside," Liam told the blacksmiths. "It will take you back to the Heavenly Pagoda."

"Thank you, Master. We await your return," Master Han said, bowing one final time before he and his apprentice turned and walked toward the designated exit vector, disappearing into the shadows of the venue’s massive architecture.

Liam turned back toward the center of the room. The terrestrial guests had naturally gathered into a single, loose group, waiting for him.

He walked up to the front of the crowd. They looked at him expectantly, anticipating that Lucy would once again summon the gentle, shimmering wall of light to escort them back to the mansion.

Liam didn’t ask Lucy to open the door. He didn’t use a device.

Instead, he raised his right hand, his fingers held loosely together, and slashed downward through the empty air.

The space in front of them literally tore open.

It was a visceral, jarring visual. The air didn’t part elegantly; it ripped, the fabric of the dimension splitting like heavy canvas under a razor blade. The edges of the tear crackled with a faint, terrifying void-black energy, revealing the familiar, warm lighting of the Bellemere Mansion hallway on the other side.