3 Feet Tall but I’m the Dragon God

Tiger Wang’s lungs expanded, his face red with the sheer, unadulterated zeal of a fanatic finally meeting his god. "I am here to pay my respects to the Supreme Dra—"

Tap.

It was a sound so faint it barely registered over the ambient chatter of the banquet hall. Lin Fan had simply lifted his cheap canvas shoe and tapped the toe against the marble floor. But to Tiger Wang, that single, microscopic tap echoed like a thunderclap in his skull.

A wave of suffocating, ice-cold killing intent pierced directly into Tiger Wang’s mind, a silent, lethal warning from the man who owned his life. *Shut your mouth, or I’ll rip your tongue out.*

Tiger Wang’s eyes bulged in sheer terror. The title died in his throat, turning into a violent, sputtering cough.

He choked, his massive frame trembling as he desperately scrambled to pivot, sweat instantly soaking through his expensive silk suit.

"To the... to the Supreme... Supreme Ancestor of the Su Family!" Tiger Wang bellowed, his voice cracking slightly as he slammed his head against the floor again. "I, Tiger Wang, have come to pay my deepest respects to the great patriarch of the Su lineage!"

Dead silence fell over the Grand Horizon Hotel.

Zhao Feng blinked, his smug grin faltering into an expression of pure confusion. Madam Su, who had been ready to call security, froze with her mouth half-open. Even Su Qing stared at the terrifying underworld boss, completely bewildered.

"Our... ancestor?" Madam Su finally stammered, her eyes darting around the room. "My father passed away five years ago. Are you talking about my father?"

Tiger Wang kept his forehead glued to the carpet, praying to whatever gods were listening that the little monster behind him would throw him a bone. "No, no! Not your father! The... the great-grandfather! The founding patriarch of the Su family! A man of... of immense stature and... and profound wisdom!"

Lin Fan stepped forward, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his worn-out jeans. He looked down at the trembling underworld boss, his face a mask of polite indifference.

"My wife’s great-grandfather passed away over sixty years ago," Lin Fan said, his voice smooth and perfectly calm. "He was a good man. But I’m surprised the underworld respects the dead so much. You can go now."

Tiger Wang let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. "Yes! Yes, of course! The spirit of the great-grandfather is... is very pleased with this banquet! I will take my leave!"

He scrambled to his feet, not daring to look Lin Fan in the eye, and practically sprinted toward the exit, his heavily armed enforcers trailing behind him like a pack of confused, heavily armed puppies.

As the doors swung shut, the silence in the room stretched for three agonizing seconds before it shattered into a chorus of hushed, mocking whispers.

Zhao Feng was the first to recover, and when he did, he threw his head back and laughed so hard he nearly spilled his wine. "Holy shit! Did you see that? The great Tiger Wang, the butcher of the docks, burst in here just to kowtow to your dead great-grandfather!" He wiped a tear from his eye, pointing a mocking finger at Lin Fan.

"Tell me, little dwarf, does your family have a history of terrifying the underworld, or did he just take a wrong turn and trip over your short ass?"

Madam Su’s face twisted into a mask of pure, unfiltered disgust. She stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply against the marble, and glared down at Lin Fan. "You see this? This is what you bring to our family! Even the ghosts of our ancestors are more respected by the criminal underworld than you are! You are a disgrace, Lin Fan. A literal, physical disgrace. If you had an ounce of shame, you would crawl into a hole and die."

Su Qing closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as a massive headache bloomed behind her temples.

She was exhausted. Between the failing company, the predatory Zhao family, and her mother’s endless screaming, she just didn't have the energy to deal with this. "Mother, stop it. Zhao Feng, leave us alone," she said, her voice dripping with ice.

She grabbed Lin Fan’s wrist—her hand was so much larger than his, a fact that always made her feel a complicated mix of pity and frustration. "Let's go. The banquet is ruined anyway."

Lin Fan didn't resist as his tall, beautiful wife practically dragged him toward the exit. He didn't look back at Zhao Feng, and he didn't acknowledge his mother-in-law’s venomous hisses.

But as he walked, his dark eyes briefly flicked to Zhao Feng’s throat. *Three days,* Lin Fan thought to himself. *Give it three days, and I’ll have your family’s assets liquidated and your kneecaps turned to powder.*

Out in the cool night air, the valet brought around Su Qing’s sleek, silver Porsche. She opened the passenger door for him, and Lin Fan had to awkwardly hoist himself up into the low-slung sports car, his legs dangling slightly before he pulled them in.

Su Qing got into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"I don't know why you insist on coming to these things," she said, her voice tight as she started the engine. "You know they’re going to mock you. You know my mother is going to scream at you. Why do you just stand there and take it? Why don't you fight back?"

Lin Fan buckled his seatbelt, staring out the window at the glittering city skyline. "Because fighting back wouldn't solve your company's supply chain issues, Su Qing," he replied quietly. "And because I promised your grandfather I'd stay by your side, no matter what."

Su Qing sighed, the anger draining out of her, replaced by a deep, weary sadness. She reached over and awkwardly patted his shoulder. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just... it's hard, Lin Fan. The Su Group is on the verge of bankruptcy. The Zhao family is squeezing us dry. I can't afford to have a husband who acts like a doormat."

Lin Fan didn't answer. He just watched the city lights blur by.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the underground garage of their modest villa. Su Qing parked and immediately went inside to take a shower and review some financial documents, leaving Lin Fan alone in the dimly lit garage.

Lin Fan stepped out of the car and stretched his short legs. He walked over to a massive, black, heavily armored SUV parked in the shadows—a vehicle that cost more than the entire villa and was completely unregistered.

The driver's side door opened, and a man stepped out. Kui Gang stood at an imposing six-foot-eight, his neck as thick as a tree trunk, his face covered in a jagged scar that ran from his left eye to his jaw. He looked like a monster who ate concrete for breakfast.

But the moment Kui Gang saw Lin Fan, the giant’s terrifying visage melted into absolute, reverent devotion. He dropped to one knee, bowing his massive head.

"Boss," Kui Gang rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "The Nine Heavens Pavilion sends its regards. We found the mole. It’s Vice-Commander Chen. He’s been selling our shipping routes to the Zhao family."

Lin Fan’s eyes narrowed, the bored, deadpan expression vanishing, replaced by the cold, ruthless gaze of the Supreme Dragon God. He reached up and gently patted Kui Gang’s massive shoulder.

"Good," Lin Fan said, his voice barely a whisper, yet it carried a weight that made the air in the garage feel heavy. "Bring him to the warehouse. And tell the boys to bring the pliers. I want to know exactly what Zhao Feng thinks he’s buying with my secrets."