“You punk, you hit my car and now you think you can just leave? Do you even know who I am?” The golden-haired man’s eyes blazed with fury, his jaw tight with anger. Christopher glanced at him coolly and shook his head, voice casual. “No idea.” Did he really need to know every spoiled brat who crossed his path? This infuriated the golden-haired man even more. As the heir of the Valeza Group, his name carried weight across Gravemonth City. And here was this man pretending not to recognize him? “Listen up! I’m Kael Valeza, heir to the Obsidian Valeza Group!” he declared proudly, puffing out his chest. In Gravemonth City, Kael, along with Ronan and a few others, were notorious for terrorizing the streets. They were rich, powerful, and ruthless—tyrants who spent their time flaunting wealth and bullying anyone they could. “Kael Valeza?” Christopher frowned. “Still don’t know you.” “You…” Kael’s face contorted with disbelief. How could this outsider not know him, one of Gravemonth City

“Get lost,” Christopher said coldly, his patience finally exhausted. “Or do you want me to slap you again?” The word again hit Ronan like a needle. His confidence flickered. He knew exactly what kind of man Christopher was—someone who acted first and dealt with consequences later. Status meant nothing to him. But Kael and Lucian were watching. The entire hall was watching. If he backed down now, he would never recover his dignity in Gravemonth City. “You better not—” Smack! The sound was sharp and explosive. Before Ronan could even finish speaking, Christopher’s palm struck his face with terrifying force. Bang! Ronan’s body spun sideways and crashed heavily onto the marble floor. The echo of the impact reverberated across the grand hall. Silence. Absolute silence. Glasses froze mid-air. Conversations died instantly. Hundreds of eyes widened in shock. The Iron Serpent’s young master… had just been slapped at his own father’s event. Ronan lay there for tw

The entire grand hall felt as if it had been struck by lightning. No one spoke. No one even dared to breathe too loudly. What on earth was happening? Even Darius stood frozen, his mind in chaos. The Obsidian Tide… the Silver Vulture… the Vale, Arden, and Montclair families… all kneeling before Christopher? What had he missed? “Dad, what’s going on?” Kael’s voice trembled as he hurried over with Lucian, both still pale from earlier events. Before either of them could process the scene— Smack! Smack! Two crisp slaps echoed across the hall. Magnus Calder’s palm struck Kael across the face without hesitation. Adrian Voss did the same to Lucian. The force of the blows sent both young men staggering. “Kneel!” Magnus barked coldly. “Hurry and apologize to Mr. Howe!” Adrian’s voice carried an edge that allowed no resistance. Kael and Lucian exchanged a terrified glance. Their arrogance from earlier had vanished completely. In its place was raw fear. They dropped to their knee

“Farewell, Mr. Howe!”Gideon Ashford, leader of the Obsidian Tide, along with the chairmen of the three powerful conglomerate families, bent their backs respectfully as Christopher and Anna walked away.Not a single person dared to stop them.Christopher didn’t even glance back. Holding Anna’s hand, he calmly walked out of the grand hall as if nothing significant had happened.The heavy doors slowly closed behind them.For a moment, the entire venue was silent.Then Gideon Ashford straightened his back and turned toward Darius.His expression was icy cold.“From this moment onward,” Gideon said slowly, his voice echoing across the hall, “the Obsidian Tide will launch a full-scale attack on the Iron Serpent.”His declaration fell like a thunderbolt.Without waiting for Darius to respond, Gideon turned around.“Let’s go.”Hundreds of Obsidian Tide members followed him out of the hotel in disciplined formation, their presence radiating hostility.Before long, only the corporate chairmen

Darius’s sharp eyes narrowed as he glared at Needle. “Why are you telling me all this?” he demanded, his voice low and measured. Needle’s jaw clenched, his tone dripping with urgency and steel. “Christopher killed Master Victor, and now he’s crossed you. I want you to take him out, to avenge Master Victor!” A cold, humorless chuckle escaped Darius. “Huh.” His laugh carried both disdain and calculation. Needle’s words were clearly motivated by more than just loyalty or concern—he had an angle. But Darius didn’t need convincing; Christopher had personally meddled in his affairs, and now that the threat was real, Darius’s desire to see him removed burned fiercely. “Christopher has mysterious and complicated connections,” Darius said slowly, his expression tightening. “Killing him won’t be as simple as you think.” Yet there was no denying the cold desire in his eyes. He knew a man capable of killing Victor wasn’t ordinary. Even Needle, a figure of renown in his own right, had dared