“Commander, this is the formal surrender notice from the Western Coalition. They request an immediate ceasefire. In exchange, they are willing to cede three thousand kilometers of disputed territory… including the Black Channel corridor.”A faint stir passed through the strategic conference room.The Black Channel was not merely land. It was trade bloodline, underground route, political fuse.“They dared provoke the Dragon Nation,” a general said coldly, “and now that their front lines are collapsing, they think territory will buy their survival?”“What a joke,” another scoffed.At the head of the long steel table sat a young man in a black military coat, fingers resting lightly against the surface.Ethan Sawyer.Supreme Commander of the Southern Border Command.Ten decorated generals faced him, none daring to interrupt his silence.Six years ago, he had arrived at the southern border in shackles, carrying the name of a criminal and a sealed military verdict. No one had expected him t

“Dad, you have to take your medicine properly. Mom said you can only get better if you take it.”The village shaman had once declared that Ethan would not live past ten.Yet on that old wooden stool, five-year-old Naomi had carefully lifted a chipped spoon to his lips, her eyes bright, her hands trembling with seriousness far beyond her age.She had believed medicine could defeat fate.“You bad people! Don’t bully my brother!”In third grade, Ethan had been thin and silent, always the one pushed aside.Naomi, with crooked pigtails and scraped knees, had spread her small arms in front of him like a shield, teeth bared, growling like a furious kitten.She had been ridiculous.And invincible.“Dad, why are my teeth falling out? Air keeps going through. I look ugly… don’t laugh! I hate you!”When her baby teeth fell, she had panicked. When Ethan laughed, she had chased him around the house, fists swinging, cheeks red.“Dad, is my skirt pretty?”Every new skirt. Every ribbon. Every school

A chill crept down James Parker’s spine, slow and suffocating, like icy water seeping beneath his skin. It was the same sensation he had felt years ago, when he had been trapped beneath collapsed ruins, his body submerged in blood that was not all his own, waiting for death to arrive. The only difference was that back then, Ethan Sawyer had appeared like a sliver of impossible light and torn him back from the brink with medical skill so precise it had bordered on the miraculous. But now… now the cold did not feel like salvation. It felt like the breath of hell itself, radiating from the man standing before him.It was as though the sky above New Haven were beginning to crack.The Supreme Commander of the southern border, the man who had swept through battlefields with icy reason and surgical cruelty, had torn off his dragon insignia without hesitation. Not for power. Not for ambition. Not even for the nation. But for one woman lying unconscious on a hospital bed.James Parker reali

The room was suffocating. It had barely been designed to hold six people comfortably, and now over ten had crowded inside, bodies pressing against each other like they were about to explode. The tattooed men who had barged in radiated authority and menace in a way Thomas Sawyer had never experienced. Unlike the four sprawled on the floor, these were veterans, each a carefully honed instrument of violence, loyal only to Victor Hale, trained to kill without hesitation, and entirely unafraid of death. Their presence made the air thick, almost unbreathable, as though the walls themselves were pressing inward, carrying the stench of sweat, fear, and cheap cologne. Thomas’s face turned ashen, his knees trembling beneath him as he tried to swallow his panic and plead: “CEO Anderson! Please… save my son! It’s all my fault! I… I…” But his words were lost to the room, to the tension that wrapped around them like steel cables.“Leave!” Samuel King’s voice cut across the room like a whip, sha

The Sawyer Family mansion was lit, yet it was a pale reflection of the grandeur it had once held. The villa, built in a stately, ancient architectural style, loomed like a monument to the family’s faded glory in the Chunsan Villa District on the outskirts of New Haven. Every stone, every carved railing, whispered of a past era of power and respect, now overshadowed by humiliation and conquest. The sign on the gate, once proud and golden, declaring “Sawyer Family Mansion,” had been replaced by a cold, sleek plaque reading “Jessica Ward Mansion.” The golden trim pricked Thomas Sawyer’s eyes like shards of glass, a reminder that he had been reduced to nothing more than a memory in the empire he had built.“Thomas Sawyer, why have you come here?” A guard, tall and imposing, blocked his path, his eyes unblinking.“I… I came to see Jessica Ward,” Thomas managed, his voice tight and brittle, laden with desperation. Each word scraped against his pride like a jagged knife.The guard’s gaze