3 Feet Tall but I’m the Dragon God

Chapter 7- The dragon God of venture capital

The silence on the red carpet was so thick you could carve it with a knife. The flashbulbs had stopped popping. The socialites were frozen with their champagne glasses halfway to their mouths. Everyone was staring at the three-foot-four man in the cheap, hemmed slacks, and then down at the billionaire catering mogul groveling in front of him.

"What the fuck did you just call him?!" Zhao Feng roared, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the red carpet. He scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in ugly, purple rage. "He’s a bum! He’s a literal dwarf! You’re talking to the wrong guy, you senile bastard!"

Mr. Jin flinched at the shouting, but before he could open his mouth to defend his boss, he felt a sharp, localized pressure on his right foot.

Lin Fan had casually stepped forward and planted his cheap canvas shoe squarely on Mr. Jin’s instep. To the onlookers, it just looked like a short guy awkwardly shifting his weight. But Mr. Jin, who was currently having his metatarsals ground into fine powder by three hundred and eighty pounds of condensed Asura density, felt his vision go white.

*Shut your mouth and pivot,* Lin Fan’s cold, deadpan eyes seemed to say.

Mr. Jin caught the hint instantly. He choked back a scream, sweat pouring down his face as he forced a hysterical, trembling laugh. "Haha! Y-yes! The... the Supreme Dragon God! Of... of Venture Capital!"

The crowd blinked in collective confusion.

"I... I misspoke!" Mr. Jin stammered loudly, his voice cracking as he desperately tried to salvage the situation without getting his foot crushed. "Boss Lin is the Dragon God of the Jiang City angel investment circle! He just bought my catering company for five hundred million in cash to restructure it! Purely business! No... no underworld stuff, I swear! Just high-level financial dragon stuff!"

Su Qing’s jaw practically hit the floor. "Five... five hundred million?" she whispered, her brain short-circuiting.

Madam Su, however, didn't care about the semantics. The moment she heard "five hundred million in cash," her eyes turned into giant, glowing dollar signs. She shoved past Su Qing, dropping to her knees right next to Mr. Jin, completely ignoring the fact that she was ruining her expensive dress.

"Oh, my son-in-law is a financial genius!" Madam Su shrieked, her voice dripping with sudden, sickening sweetness. "I always knew he was special! I told Qing'er just yesterday, I said, 'Lin Fan is just playing the humble card!' Isn't that right, my dear son-in-law?"

Lin Fan calmly lifted his foot, letting Mr. Jin gasp in relief, and looked down at his mother-in-law with a bored expression. "I thought you told me to crawl into a hole and die yesterday morning, Mother Su."

"Ah, that was just... motherly tough love!" Madam Su laughed nervously, waving her hand. "You know how mothers are! We just want you to strive for greatness! And look at you, a tycoon!"

Su Hao, who had been standing there with his mouth open, suddenly snapped out of it. He rushed forward, rubbing his hands together. "Brother-in-law! Bro! I knew you were holding out on us! Remember when I said I needed two million for my casino debt? You gotta lend it to me now! We're family!"

"Get away from him," Su Qing finally snapped, her CEO persona slamming back into place. She stepped between her family and Lin Fan, her sharp eyes locked onto her husband. She wasn't looking at him with awe; she was looking at him like he was a locked safe she couldn't crack. "Lin Fan. Tell me the truth. Where did you get five hundred million dollars? You don't have a job. You don't have a degree. You literally day-trade on your phone while watching cartoons."

Lin Fan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I got lucky on some crypto options, Qing'er. You know how the market is. I just kept my head down and compounded the gains."

"Bullshit!" Zhao Feng screamed, interrupting them. He wiped the blood from his chin, his eyes bloodshot and wild. He wasn't going to let a three-foot-four freak steal his spotlight and humiliate him in front of the entire city. "He’s lying! He probably stole that money! Or he’s just a frontman for some real billionaire! There is no way a genetic defect like him has five hundred million!"

Zhao Feng turned to the head bouncer, pointing a shaking finger at Lin Fan. "Arrest him! He’s a fraud! Throw him and his crazy catering friend into the street!"

The head bouncer, a massive guy built like a fridge, looked at Zhao Feng, then looked at Mr. Jin. He hesitated.

"Are you deaf?!" Zhao Feng shrieked. "I said arrest him!"

Mr. Jin, still massaging his bruised foot, suddenly found his courage. He stood up, brushing off his suit, and glared at the bouncer. "You hear the young master? Oh wait, you don't work for him. You work for the Grand Horizon Hotel. And guess what? The Golden Lotus Catering Group just signed an exclusive, ten-year, non-compete contract with this hotel this morning. Which means *I* control the food and beverage staff. Which means *I* control you."

Mr. Jin pointed a fat, trembling finger at the bouncer. "You're fired. And if you don't throw this screaming, bleeding trust-fund kid out of my sight right now, I’ll make sure you never work in Jiang City again!"

The bouncer didn't even hesitate. He stepped forward, grabbed Zhao Feng by the collar of his custom-tailored tuxedo, and hoisted him off the ground.

"Unhand me! Do you know who my father is?!" Zhao Feng kicked his legs wildly, looking like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"I don't care if your father is the mayor," the bouncer grunted, and then literally tossed Zhao Feng down the three concrete steps of the red carpet. Zhao Feng landed in a heap of tangled limbs, his expensive jacket tearing at the shoulder.

Su Hao, trying to be a good little sycophant, lunged at the bouncer. "Hey! You can't touch him!" The bouncer just backhanded Su Hao lightly, sending him spinning into a decorative bush.

The socialites were whispering furiously now, pointing and laughing at the Zhao heir rolling around in the dirt. Su Qing closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. The humiliation was absolute, but the chaos was far from over.

Down on the pavement, Zhao Feng pushed himself up, his face contorted in pure, unadulterated hatred. He looked at Lin Fan, who was calmly checking his fingernails, and then at Su Qing, who was looking at Lin Fan with deep, profound suspicion.

"You think you can buy your way out of this?" Zhao Feng spat, his voice dropping to a dangerous, guttural growl. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, silver whistle. "You’re just a rich dwarf, Lin Fan. Let’s see your money stop this."

He put the whistle to his lips and blew. No sound came out, but a high-frequency pitch made the nearby dogs start howling.

From the shadows of the hotel lobby, a heavy, rhythmic thudding echoed against the marble floor. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as a man stepped out into the flashing lights. He was at least seven feet tall, wearing a tight black turtleneck that barely contained his massive, scarred muscles. His eyes were dead, and his knuckles were wrapped in thick, blood-stained tape.

"Master Tie," Zhao Feng sneered, wiping blood from his lip as he pointed at Lin Fan. "Kill the dwarf. Break his legs, but leave him alive. I want to watch him crawl."

Master Tie didn't say a word. He just cracked his neck, stepped onto the red carpet, and locked his terrifying gaze onto Lin Fan. The sheer, suffocating killing intent rolling off the giant made several socialites faint.

Su Qing gasped, stepping back in horror. "Zhao Feng, are you insane?! You brought an underground fighter to a charity gala?!"

Lin Fan just looked up at the seven-foot giant, then down at his own cheap canvas shoes. He let out a long, weary sigh.

"Qing'er," Lin Fan said, his voice perfectly calm over the murmuring crowd. "Could you hold my soy milk for a second? I don't want to spill it."