The banquet hall glittered like something out of a fever dream—all crystal chandeliers and polished silver, tables groaning under the weight of gourmet dishes that cost more per plate than Marcus earned in a month. Wine flowed freely, the bottles bearing vintage dates older than some of the guests. Jewelry sparkled on every wrist and throat, enhanced with cultivation energy that made precious stones glow with an otherworldly light.And there, at the head table beneath the largest chandelier, sat Quinn.She'd changed into an elegant emerald dress that hugged her figure perfectly, making her look like some fairy-tale princess. Her Saintess aura radiated from her skin, a soft golden glow that made her appear ethereal, untouchable. Divine.Alexander Grant sat close beside her—too close—serving food onto her plate with practiced intimacy. He murmured something in her ear, and she actually laughed. A real laugh, musical and light, the kind Marcus hadn't heard from her in over a year."Perfec

The building's tremor started as a low rumble, the kind you feel in your bones before your brain registers danger. Then the world lurched.Crystal chandeliers swayed violently, their thousand prisms throwing chaotic light across walls that suddenly weren't straight anymore. The floor buckled beneath Marcus's feet like a living thing. Somewhere in the distance, glass shattered in cascading waves.Then the screaming started."Earthquake!" someone shrieked.Panic erupted instantly. Guests in their designer clothes and glittering jewelry stampeded toward exits like cattle, all pretense of civilization abandoned. High heels snapped. Men shoved women aside. The carefully cultivated veneer of upper-class civility cracked and fell away, revealing the animal terror underneath.Marcus's instincts overrode everything else—the humiliation, the rage, the bleeding knuckles from Alexander's face. His body moved before his mind caught up, turning back toward the banquet hall, fighting against the tide

Marcus stood before his wife, very much alive despite the tons of rubble that should have crushed him into nothing.Quinn stared at him like he was a ghost, her hands frozen mid-bandage on Alexander's arm, her mouth slightly open in shock."How did you survive?" she asked again, and there was something in her tone that made Marcus's newly awakened dragon senses flare. Not relief. Not joy. Just disbelief and perhaps—yes, definitely—disappointment.A bitter chuckle escaped Marcus's throat. "Is that really what you want to know, Quinn? Not 'thank God you're alive' or 'I was so worried'—just how did I survive? As if my living is somehow... inconvenient for you?"Quinn's face flushed, color rising in her cheeks—guilt and anger mixing together in equal measure. "That's not what I meant! You're twisting my words!""Am I?" Marcus's enhanced senses read every micro-expression, every slight shift in her posture, every fluctuation in her emotional state.He could see the truth she was desperately

When they were gone, Aaron opened a hidden compartment in his desk. Inside lay something that made the air itself seem to grow colder—a black token the size of a poker chip, carved with ancient symbols that seemed to writhe in the dim light.The Soul-Chasing Token.He hadn't used it in years. Didn't need to. The reputation alone was enough to make most threats disappear. Every person marked by this token in the past had died within half a day—no exceptions, no mercy.Aaron's fingers closed around the token, and his eyes burned with purpose.Anyone who threatened Marcus Steel would die. Anyone who threatened the Dragon King's return would be eliminated.No matter who they were.Meanwhile, in the north city's Skyline Bar, Oliver Hartford lounged in a private room that reeked of cigarette smoke, cheap cologne, and expensive alcohol. He counted out two hundred thousand dollars in cash, sliding the neat stacks across the table to Bruno King.Bruno grinned, gold teeth glinting. "Damn, Oliver

"Sit. Down." Brandon Hartford's voice carried the weight of a man used to being obeyed. "We need to talk."Marcus considered refusing. But curiosity won out—what could they possibly want to discuss now that the marriage was effectively over? He sat at the table, noting how Quinn wouldn't meet his eyes."You've been causing problems," Brandon began, his tone severe. "Tonight's incident at the Hartford family gathering was completely unacceptable. Attacking Alexander Grant, overturning tables, making a scene—""I made a scene?" Marcus interrupted. "Your daughter left me to die in a collapsing building while she saved another man. But sure, I'm the problem.""How dare you!" Karen shrieked, slamming her hand on the table. "How dare you question Quinn's judgment! She's a Saintess! She has a sacred duty to protect those under her care! Alexander was injured because of your violence—of course she had to prioritize him!""She's my wife," Marcus said quietly."She's a Saintess first!" Karen's f