“I like that one. What do you think, Mr. Doyle?”Adrian followed her finger. On the display hung a black evening gown—simple at first glance, but rich with clever details. The price tag read five hundred thousand.The saleswoman’s smile faltered as she clocked the choice. “You have excellent taste, miss. That’s a haute couture piece—the Star of Night. It’s our most expensive gown, priced at two hundred thousand. Perhaps you’d like to consider something else?”She thought she’d been tactful. The condescension was unmistakable.“So you mean I can’t afford it?” Adrian asked, frowning.Her gaze skimmed him—ordinary clothes, ordinary air. Toss him into a crowd and he’d vanish. A dress like this? He couldn’t buy it if he saved for three years. All front, no funds.“If that’s how you want to hear it, sure,” she said, simpering. “A friendly reminder: if you’re going to act the part, at least keep it within your means.”Even Daisy’s patience thinned at that, and she opened her mouth—only for a

“Mr. Doyle isn’t just the richest man in Skyline City. Forget a single dress—an entire mall is nothing more than a word for him. You see that brooch on his lapel? Handcrafted by Monsieur Sapphy himself. Worth five hundred thousand dollars. There’s only one like it in the world. And you think slapping on a Rolex makes you somebody? Pathetic little clown.”Drew Simpson clearly hadn’t anticipated this side of Adrian. He shook his head in disbelief. “Impossible. He’s a broke nobody—how could he have that kind of money? I don’t buy it!”Jacob Newman addressed the crowd with cool restraint. “From this moment on, with this transfer contract executed, this Wanda complex belongs to Mr. Doyle.”Plenty of things can be faked; a transfer deed isn’t one of them. The documents, seals, and registrations were all in order, binding in the eyes of the law. Only a fool would try to pass off a forgery like that.“Never judge a book by its cover. Who would’ve thought the kid had such a formidable backgrou

On the way, Adrian asked, “Mr. Ingram, what did you want to see me about?”Eyes on the road, Richard replied, “My grandfather has an old friend—served in the wars when he was young, a commander in his day. Age has caught up with him, and his ailments are getting worse. We were hoping you could take a look.”Adrian had a deep-seated respect for men who’d seen combat. He nodded without further questions.Half an hour later, the car rolled to a stop before a sprawling manor.The estate was vast, its architecture steeped in a quiet, classical elegance. Crossing the threshold, the bustle of the city seemed to fall away; even the mind grew still.They wound left and right through the courtyards until they came upon two old men seated across a chessboard.“Dad! Look who I brought!”Tristan Ingram, pondering his next move, snapped without looking up, “You little brat! Can’t you see I’m playing? What’s with the shouting—got dynamite stuck in your throat?”He turned—and when he saw Adrian besid

Old Mr. Shaw was solemn. “I don’t make mistakes about such things. The footage from my clinic is proof enough. What puzzles me is this: if you can invite this young divine doctor, he alone suffices to treat Old Thompson. Why trouble with my presence as well?”That landed the grandfather and granddaughter squarely in embarrassment.They hadn’t believed Adrian at all; who would’ve imagined that someone so young could surpass Old Mr. Shaw himself?Shaw didn’t press for an answer. He turned to Adrian instead. “Mr. Doyle, your bank details, please. I’ll transfer the money at once.”Adrian waved it off. “No need. I completed your method for one reason only—to keep our acupuncture arts from fading into obscurity. That’s all.”A hundred million dollars wasn’t pocket change, yet he dismissed it as nothing. Men so indifferent to fame and wealth were rare indeed.“Even so,” Shaw persisted, “you’ve done the Shaw family an immense favor. If we do nothing in return, I’ll have no peace of mind.”Adr

The man let out a warped chuckle. With a flick of his wrist, a black chain snapped toward Richard Ingram.“Mr. Ingram, watch out!”Adrian’s warning came just in time. Richard dodged by a hair, though the chain lashed his forearm, carving a wound to the bone.“Consider that a warning. Next time, it won’t be your arm—it’ll be your neck.”The casual threat turned Richard’s blood to ice. Whatever liquor remained in his system evaporated. “Fire!” he barked.As deputy commander, he never traveled without escorts. Gunfire erupted in a volley, converging on the man in black.The stranger didn’t move an inch, his gaze fixed on Adrian alone.As the bullets neared, a blood-red barrier shimmered into being before him. Rounds that had never failed melted on contact, sloughing into twisted scrap that clattered to the pavement.“God above—what is he? No human can do that!”“Bullets don’t touch him. He’s like a damn ghost!”Gooseflesh rippled up the soldiers’ arms; their voices shook.“You’re beginni