The Rolls-Royce glided through Grayson City's nighttime streets, its engine a quiet purr that did nothing to disturb the heavy silence inside. Quinn sat in the passenger seat, her hands clenched in her lap, guilt weighing on her like physical pressure."Marcus," she said finally, her voice small, "I'll pay for the car repairs myself. It's not fair that you have to cover damage my parents caused. I have some savings from my project manager bonus, and I can—""Quinn, it's fine," Marcus interrupted gently."It's not fine!" Her voice cracked slightly. "Fifteen thousand dollars! That's nearly everything I've saved! But it's my responsibility. My family's mess. You shouldn't have to—""The car is mine," Marcus reminded her. "Which means the repairs are my responsibility, not yours.""But you don't have—" Quinn stopped herself, the automatic assumption dying on her lips. Because tonight had proven that every assumption she'd made about Marcus was wrong. "I don't understand how you can afford

The Hartford family home was silent when they arrived, shadows stretching across expensive furniture like judgments. Quinn walked through the door first, her Saintess aura still flickering erratically from the night's events. Marcus followed, closing the door quietly behind them.Neither spoke. The air between them felt heavy, charged with questions neither was ready to ask or answer.Quinn wanted to demand explanations—how had he moved with that speed? Where did that power come from? Why had twelve armed thugs looked at him with terror before he'd even struck? But the words stuck in her throat, held back by some instinct that told her she wasn't ready for the answers.Marcus deliberately kept his silence. Not from cruelty, but from calculation. The more Quinn knew about his true nature, the deeper she'd be pulled into a world of danger that even her Saintess powers might not protect her from. Better to let her process what she'd already seen before revealing more."I'm going to bed,"

The pile of cash on the bar kept growing as challenger after challenger fell to Marcus Steel's impossible endurance. Word spread through Black Wind like wildfire—there was a man at the main bar who'd already defeated eight opponents, downed over two hundred shots combined, and showed absolutely no signs of intoxication."I'll take him!" A muscular man in a leather jacket pushed forward, confidence oozing from every pore. "Nobody drinks that much without feeling it. He's got to be close to his limit!"Five minutes later, the muscular man was being carried out by his friends, completely unconscious after fifteen shots while Marcus casually drained his thirtieth."This is impossible," someone whispered in the crowd. "He's got to be using some kind of cultivation technique. Maybe a liver enhancement method?""Or he's just inhuman," another voice suggested nervously.The mountain of money had grown to nearly fifty thousand dollars now—each challenger adding their own stakes to the pot. And

The Black Wind Bar erupted with noise—cheers, gasps, disbelieving laughter. Marcus Steel had just downed forty-eight bottles of beer in five minutes and looked like he could do it again. The crowd pressed closer, phones recording every moment, already composing social media posts that would make this night legendary."QUIET!"Sonny Ridge's roar cut through the celebration like a blade. The bar fell silent instantly, everyone recognizing the authority and rage in that single word.Sonny straightened from his position near the trash can, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was still flushed from the alcohol, but fury burned in his eyes hot enough to override the nausea."This isn't over," Sonny said, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage. "Nobody—NOBODY—walks out of my bar after humiliating me like this!""We had a deal," Marcus said calmly, the money already in his possession. "I won. Fair and square. Every person here witnessed it.""You cheated!" Sonny snappe

Sonny Ridge pushed himself up from the cracked wall, blood dripping from his mouth, his cultivation energy completely scattered. But instead of accepting defeat, rage and desperation twisted his features into something ugly."Nobody leaves!" Sonny roared, gesturing to his men. "Lock the doors! This bastard cheated somehow—I don't know how, but he did! And he's not walking out of here with my money!"His six enforcers moved immediately, spreading out to block exits. Several pulled out weapons more openly now—knives that gleamed under the bar's lights, brass knuckles that promised broken bones.The crowd shifted nervously. This wasn't just entertainment anymore. This was about to become violence, and they were trapped in the middle of it.Marcus stood in the center of the makeshift ring, his expression carrying contempt rather than concern. "You're really going to do this? In front of all these witnesses?""I don't care about witnesses!" Sonny spat blood. "You think any of these people