Marcus's eyes were burning now, wet with something he refused to let fall.“I worked my ass off for you. I gave up my life. I missed my father's funeral because you needed me to fix an issue with one of our systems. And now you're telling me I'm fired?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Is that why you're doing this? Because I told you I needed time off to see my mother?”Ryan said nothing. His face was stone.Before Marcus could say another word, the door to the office opened.He turned, his breath catching in his throat.Elena—his wife stepped into the room.She looked stunning. Hair styled perfectly, makeup flawless, wearing a designer dress Marcus knew for a fact cost more than his monthly salary. She didn't look surprised to see him. She didn't look confused or concerned.She looked calm. Composed. Like she'd been expecting this."Elena?" Marcus's voice was barely a whisper. "What are you doing here?"She didn't answer. She didn't even look at him.Instead, she walked straight pas

The guards dragged Marcus through a hidden door in the back of Ryan's office a door Marcus had never even known existed. It opened onto a narrow service corridor, dimly lit and smelling of cleaning chemicals and stale air. They hauled him down three flights of service stairs, his broken leg dragging uselessly behind him, each step sending fresh agony through his shattered body.He tried to speak. Tried to beg. But his voice was gone. All that came out were wet, rasping sounds. They reached a service elevator and threw him inside. One of the guards jabbed a needle into Marcus's neck before he could react. Cold liquid flooded his veins."What—" Marcus's vision blurred. "What did you—""Insurance," the guard said flatly. "Heart suppressant. Slows everything down. You've got about two hours before it stops completely."The elevator doors closed.They drove for what felt like forever.Marcus drifted in and out of consciousness in the back of a windowless van, his broken body sprawled ac

The third came a scholar in elegant robes, his face thoughtful and serene.Cultivation techniques. The movement of qi through meridians Marcus didn't know he had. Breathing methods that could draw energy from the air itself, from the earth, from the heavens above. The Dragon's Breath Cultivation Method the core technique of the Chen bloodline, designed specifically to awaken and strengthen the dragon mark. It worked in nine stages, each one exponentially more powerful than the last. Marcus instinctively knew he was at the first stage the Awakening. Methods to sense energy in others, to detect lies and intentions, to project his presence like a physical force that could make weaker-willed people kneel without him touching them.They kept coming, the fourth. The fifth. The tenth.By the time the hundredth entered him, Marcus was gasping, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information flooding into him. His consciousness was expanding, stretching, trying to contain lifetimes of accumulat

At that moment Marcus twisted his wrist.The baton snapped like a dry twig. The guard's wrist broke with an audible crack not just broke, but shattered, the bones fragmenting under the pressure Marcus applied. The man screamed and stumbled backward, cradling his arm, his face white with shock and pain.The second guard had pulled a knife a folding tactical blade and rushed forward, slashing wildly at Marcus's throat.Immediately Marcus moved.Not fast enough for the eye to track. One moment he was standing in front of the knife. The next, he was behind the guard, his hand closing around the back of the man's neck.The martial arts knowledge in his head told him exactly where to strike, exactly how much pressure to apply. The point was called Fengfu—the Wind Mansion, at the base of the skull where the spine met the brain.He pressed.The guard's eyes rolled back. His body went rigid, then limp. The knife clattered to the pavement.Marcus let him drop.The first guard the one with the s

The Zhao family hall was magnificent.Forty-foot ceilings with crystal chandeliers that cost more than most houses. Marble floors polished to a mirror shine. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, the lights twinkling like stars. Classical music played by a live orchestra in the corner not recorded, live, because the Zhaos didn't do anything halfway.The room was packed.Easily three hundred people, maybe more. CEOs and board members. Politicians and judges. Investors and venture capitalists. Media personalities and social influencers. Everyone who mattered in the city's elite circles.And all of them were here for one reason, to celebrate Ryan Zhao's success.The revolutionary project he'd unveiled last month the one that was going to change the tech industry, the one that had already attracted billions in investment interest, the one that had made Ryan the golden boy of the family business.Everyone wanted to be associated with success. Everyone wanted to shake Ryan'