**Chapter 194: A Complete Transformation**

Has anyone ever noticed the sun in Los Angeles around five in the afternoon during late summer?

It's a soft orange hue, clear and bright, not too dazzling or showy, even a bit elegant. It exudes a refreshing clarity amidst its brilliance, subtly spreading across the pale blue sky, with lazy clouds drifting through it, creating ripples as if you could see the ocean and the universe.

The vast and endless expanse stretches out infinitely, as if by opening your arms, you could embrace the boundless sky, the vast ocean... and even the entire universe.

Involuntarily, one's heart seems to relax and open up as well.

At this moment, the universe is no longer mysterious but breathtakingly beautiful.

Amidst the busyness and crowding of daily life, people gradually become engrossed in their routines, with all the pressure weighing heavily on their shoulders, almost suffocating them. Even those living in Los Angeles seldom have the chance to look up and carefully observe the sky above, completely forgetting how vast the world really is.

Until this very moment.

Nicholas looked through the bustling crowd, observing Brad's happiness and Jennifer's charm as they confidently displayed their affection in front of the media. Brad unabashedly revealed his attachment to his wife, his smile glowing in the barrage of flashing lights.

Unintentionally, Nicholas caught a glimpse of a figure from the corner of his eye.

A fleeting glance, like a startled swan.

In that instant, the orange sunlight blazed into a fiery glow, with the bright color deepening into a radiant red sunset that lightly draped over that figure's shoulders, sketching out the sharp and defined lines of a jaw, resembling a blade, with a hint of fierce intensity.

His gaze lingered, unable to resist, drawn back involuntarily, and he was slightly taken aback—

Is that…?

A tall, imposing figure, getting out of the car and standing up, rebuttoning his suit jacket. The well-proportioned body, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, was perfectly displayed in the tailored outfit, capturing attention effortlessly.

A black suit. Black trousers. Black shirt. Black tie.

An all-black ensemble, without a single trace of another color, clean and simple.

Yet, within the blackness, you could discern layers—the silk trim on the suit collar, the dark matte trim on the shirt's standing collar—tiny, almost invisible details creating a visual impact, with the fabric draping seamlessly over the body, merging perfectly.

However.

The tie was loosened.

The narrow tie, rebellious and unruly, hung loosely, giving off a hint of a rock 'n' roll vibe, like a harbinger from hell stepping through flames.

The vibrant splendor underfoot rippled and spread out gradually.

Heh.

Nicholas instinctively held his breath, his mind blank, standing there in a daze, even forgetting to press the shutter button.

The air seemed to freeze.

Nicholas wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but the entire world seemed to slow down, as the screams, cheers, distorted faces, the air, the lights, and the crowded figures all blurred together, moving in slow motion as if through a soft haze.

Everything, all of it, became mere background.

Then.

A ray of sunset gently fell on that figure's shoulder, accentuating the clear and aloof expression on his face. His bright and serene eyes reflected the tumult around him, yet he remained detached, naturally exuding a cold and unapproachable demeanor. The noise and heat gradually subsided.

Nothing else mattered anymore.

Click.

Finally, Nicholas found his breath, pressing the shutter in stunned amazement, but his mind remained blank, still unable to process what he had seen.

Was that... Anson Wood?

Was he sure?

Nicholas doubted his own eyes.

He knew Anson, of course he remembered Anson—his impression was deep. But the Anson in his memory was relaxed, carefree, nonchalant, and easygoing.

Like the August sunlight on the French Riviera.

But now, what he saw was different.

Subtle. Cool. Sexy.

The entire presence exuded an aura of mystery, distant and untouchable, yet carrying a dangerous and irresistible allure that captivated anyone who looked.

He walked forward, step by step, through the rays of the sunset, stepping into the night.

In that instant, the light and shadows shifted, and the stars seemed to realign.

Heh.

Nicholas couldn't help but hold his breath again, and then, he pressed the shutter.

Click.

Click, click, click, click, click, click.

He couldn't stop.

This was Anson, it was indeed Anson, but it was a version of Anson he had never seen before, like a completely different person, revealing a brand-new image.

Watching Anson ascend the steps, the world's blockade finally lifted, returning to normal. Only then did Nicholas realize:

It had been just his own illusion.

The crowd was still cheering wildly for Brad and Jennifer; not many had noticed Anson. So, was Nicholas the only one making a fuss?

Wait.

Did this also mean Nicholas had captured an exclusive shot?

Just as the thought emerged, Nicholas noticed the change in the atmosphere at the scene—

The exclusive moment was gone.

The crowd had noticed Anson too, though not as sharply as Nicholas, they were just a beat slower. But eventually, they realized Anson had made his entrance.

It was different, truly different. Nicholas's eye and intuition had been correct.

In the year 2000, men's suits and formal wear were still relatively traditional, with Armani suits being the standard—relatively loose and generic, mostly trying to emphasize a man's rugged and strong physique. Although the rock-punk vibe had already started infiltrating the fashion world with the rise of Kate Moss, it was primarily concentrated in women's fashion, without making a significant impact on men's fashion.

But Anson, standing there, was different.

The suit was fitted, tight, without an ounce of excess, the fabric wrapping around and outlining his physique. Proportion and lines were key, showcasing a rebellious rock spirit while presenting a dark, dangerous side of masculine sexiness. The pure black color further gave the evening attire a completely distinct aura.

Different—perhaps ordinary viewers couldn't quite articulate why, but this Anson, standing out even in a crowd of three hundred or five hundred stars, effortlessly broke the stereotype of men's formal wear, letting a wild and unrestrained aura blossom on the red carpet.

Step by step, he moved towards the grand hall.

It felt as if Lucifer himself was walking towards the sacred temple, treading on a path of blood and bodies.

Breathtaking.

Majestic.

Although they were a bit slow to react, the audience gradually began to notice Anson, and after the initial shock, amazement, and awe, they couldn't help but be stunned by his presence. It was a suffocating aura, spreading oppressively at the entrance of the grand hall.

A declaration:

I'm here to stir things up.

Involuntarily, the crowd felt their blood boiling, even if they weren't sure whether they knew this man, they couldn't help but be excited.

Thousands of scorching gazes silently converged on Anson, and the noise and commotion slowly subsided, as everyone watched the direction Anson was heading—

Toward Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston.

No way?

No way!

End of Chapter 5.