My Substitute CEO Bride (Nash Calcraft)

Chapter 112
Stellar was a man who did as he said.
He took his pistol and aimed it at Howard’s head.
Howard shuddered in fear when he saw the black-colored muzzle.
No one had ever dared point a gun at him in the past seventy years he had been alive.
Yet now, he did not have the guts to lose his temper when a gun was pointed at him.
Deep within his heart, he knew without a doubt that not only did Stellar dare point a gun at him, but he was also brazen enough
to pull the trigger and kill him.
“Colonel... sir... I... I...”
Howard stuttered, unable to form a complete sentence.
The poor had no power over the rich, and the rich had no power over the government.
Although he held extremely powerful positions in Jonford, they were nothing in comparison to the power the Northern Territory’s
colonel had.
For the sake of his life, he had no choice but to admit defeat.
“Get the hell out!” Stellar roared.
Howard hurriedly left the room with his family’s guards.
While that was going on, Nash had placed thirty-six offering bowls around Philix’s body.
Lloyd exclaimed, “These offering bowls are placed according to the 36 decan stars’ positions. It looks like a magic circle...”
Cillian, who had not had any emotion on his face before this, gasped, “It’s the Decan Soul-Locking Formation!”
Lloyd was shocked. “Decan Soul-Locking Formation?”

Cillian nodded. “I don’t think he’s faking it. The Decan Soul-Locking Formation goes against the laws of nature. Getting a few
years shaved off your life constitutes a light punishment, and the worst punishment would be getting cursed by the gods. I can’t
believe Master Calcraft passed on the technique to this young man!”
When Cillian finished his sentence, he kindly asked, “Young man, are you sure you want to use the Decan Soul-Locking
Formation?”
Nash ignored Cillian and walked toward the couch, where he retrieved a brush, a bottle of red-colored ink, and a stack of
parchment paper from the tote bag lying on the coffee table.
A frosty expression appeared on Skadi’s face when she noticed how arrogant Nash was acting.
Before meeting the Smiling Grim Reaper, Father Cillian had been the man she admired.
He was a ninth-division grandmaster, which made him one of the best in the martial arts world.
Moreover, he had gorgeous features that made him look like he had just walked out of a painting.
There was no doubt he would have attracted large numbers of female fans if he decided to share his knowledge with those in
the secular world.
Nash might have excellent martial arts skills, but he was nothing more than a stage three grandmaster to Skadi.
What right did he have to ignore Father Cillian?
Skadi huffily retrieved her phone and began complaining to Hera.
Lloyd could not stand Nash’s disrespect and berated him, “Young man, he’s the priest of the Quiet Winds Church and a ninth-
division grandmaster. He possesses outstanding skills and is giving you these reminders from the goodness of his heart!”
Nash ignored the exasperated Lloyd and used his brush to sketch an outline on the parchment paper.
“Oh, my f*cking god. Are you even listening to me?”
“Can it!”
Nash lifted his gaze and directed a blast of inner energy toward Lloyd.

Lloyd let out a muffled grunt as he stumbled several steps backward, blood oozing from the corners of his mouth.
It was only then he recalled his junior had once reminded him that this young man had genuine profound state powers.
Cillian tightened his grip on his horsetail whisk.
Even though he only had the powers of a ninth-grade grandmaster, he still stood a fighting chance if they were combined with
the techniques his ancestors had passed down to him.
Nash turned to look at Cillian. “If you do not have any other business here, please leave the room so you don’t disrupt the
warden’s rest!”
Cillian said calmly, “The General Star has fallen, and Heaven’s will cannot be disobeyed. Only Master Calcraft, who has the
Apocalyptic Star in his Palace of Fate, can change one’s destiny against all odds!”
He wanted Nash to back down of his own accord and was also taking this opportunity to undermine his confidence.
The young man needed a lesson taught to him because of how arrogant he was.
Nash sighed and put his brush down. Then, he took a folded yellow robe from the tote bag.
A biretta.
A golden-colored amulet.
Nash straightened up and put the robe on.
The biretta went on his head, and the amulet was wound around his waist before he tightened the sash. Finally, he took a small
pouch out of the tote bag.