RETURN OF THE DRAGON: Made 100 Trillon in A Day

Chapter 8: The Iron Fist Enforcer

The floor-to-ceiling glass of my new penthouse offered a panoramic view of Hanhai, a city I now partially owned but didn't yet trust. The silence was expensive, broken only by the hum of the climate control and the rhythmic tapping of Su Qinghe’s fingers on her tablet.

"The Chu family assets are completely frozen, Chairman," she said, her voice regained a bit of its professional edge, though she still wouldn't meet my eyes. "But there was a leak. A hidden offshore account in the Caymans—untouchable by the local banks—was emptied ten minutes ago. Twelve million dollars, vanished."

"Twelve million?" I stood by the window, watching my reflection. My eyes still had that faint golden shimmer. "That’s a lot of money for a family that can’t afford a taxi."

"It’s a bounty, sir," she whispered. "In the underground world, twelve million is the price for a Rank-2 hit."

Suddenly, the air in the room didn't just vibrate; it groaned. The reinforced glass of the penthouse windows shattered inward, not from an explosion, but from a concentrated shockwave of pure physical force.

A man landed in the center of the living room, his boots cracking the imported Italian marble. He was a mountain of scarred muscle, his forearms wrapped in heavy iron chains that seemed to pulse with a dull, red light.

"Qin Ming!" he bellowed, his voice rattling the remaining glass in the frames. "Money can buy buildings, but it can't buy your life back once I've taken it!"

Su Qinghe scrambled back, her face turning ashen. "Iron Fist Lu? The Mercenary King of the Southern Borders?"

Lu grinned, a jagged, terrifying sight. "The Ice Queen knows my name. Good. It’ll be the last one you hear before I paint this penthouse with your boss's blood."

"Lu," I said, not moving from my spot by the window. "I’m a busy man. If you leave now, you might live long enough to spend that twelve million on a nice retirement home."

"Hah! A househusband talking about mercy?" Lu stepped forward, the iron chains on his arms glowing brighter. "I’ve crushed Rank-1 masters with my bare hands. You’re just a lucky brat with a bank account. Die!"

He lunged. The floor exploded under his feet. He moved like a freight train, his right fist glowing with a terrifying, metallic sheen. The pressure of the air ahead of his strike was enough to bruise skin.

I didn't have a cultivation rank. I didn't have years of training. I had a second to live.

System, I thought, the world slowing into a frame-by-frame crawl. Give me something to kill him with.

[System: Threat Level: Moderate. Enemy Rank: 2 (Physical Specialization).]

[Recommended Purchase: 100 Years of Combat Experience — Cost: 5 Billion Spirit Coins.]

[Warning: Physical strain on unrefined 'God-Body' will be severe. Proceed?]

Do it. Buy it all.

[Transaction Confirmed. Balance: 34,999,000,000,000. Downloading 'Aeon-Slayer' Combat Protocols...]

The world didn't just slow down; it became a series of mathematical vectors. A century of slaughter, of parries, of lethal strikes and hidden techniques flooded my brain in a nanosecond. My muscles twitched, snapping into alignment. My stance shifted by a fraction of an inch, a movement so subtle it looked like a glitch in reality.

Lu’s "Iron Fist" was inches from my face. To Su Qinghe, he was a blur. To me, he was moving through molasses.

I didn't dodge. I stepped into his guard.

My left hand whipped up, my palm striking the underside of his wrist to redirect the force. My right hand, guided by a hundred years of muscle memory I hadn't earned, coiled like a snake.

The shockwave of our collision blew the rest of the furniture toward the walls. Lu gasped, his eyes bulging as his strike—a strike meant to liquefy my organs—hit nothing but empty air, while my palm sat firmly against his solar plexus.

"What... what kind of movement is that?" Lu wheezed, leaping back. He looked at his hand, then at me. "You didn't use spirit energy. That was pure technique. Who are you?"

"I'm the man who's about to make you regret taking that contract," I said. My voice sounded deeper, layered with the echoes of the warriors whose lives I’d just purchased.

"Don't play with me!" Lu roared. He ripped the iron chains from his arms, swinging them like twin flails. Each link was infused with Rank-2 energy, capable of cutting through steel. "I’ll grind your bones to dust!"

He unleashed a hurricane of steel. The chains whistled, cutting the air into ribbons. Su Qinghe dived behind a reinforced pillar, screaming for me to run.

I walked toward him.

Every swing of the chain was a calculated failure. I leaned an inch to the left, and a link grazed my ear. I ducked a centimeter, and the other chain demolished a five-million-dollar sculpture behind me. I was dancing through the raindrops of his fury.

"Stop moving!" Lu screamed, his face turning purple with effort. He pulled both chains back and threw them in a converging strike meant to crush my skull between them.

I didn't move. I reached out both hands.

The room shook. Su Qinghe peeked out, her mouth falling open. I had caught the chains. Not with my hands, but by wrapping them around my forearms at the exact moment of impact, neutralizing the kinetic energy.

"My turn," I said.

I yanked.

Lu, weighing three hundred pounds of solid muscle, was pulled off his feet like a child. He flew toward me, his "Iron Fist" cocked for one last, desperate strike.

"DIE!" he screamed, pouring every drop of his Rank-2 essence into his knuckles.

I met his fist with my own.

The collision sounded like a mountain splitting open. A shockwave of golden and red light erupted, blinding Su Qinghe.

When the light faded, the room was silent.

I was standing perfectly still. Lu was on his knees, his right arm shaking violently. His "Iron Fist"—the pride of the Southern Borders—was a mangled mess of blood and white bone fragments. The iron chains had been pulverized into grey dust that coated the floor.

I reached down and grabbed his throat, lifting him until his toes barely touched the shattered marble.

"You said money can't buy a life back, Lu," I whispered, my golden eyes burning into his soul. "But it just bought me a hundred years of ways to kill you."

"Please..." Lu choked out, the terror in his eyes finally replacing the greed. "I was just... hired... the Chu family... they used an intermediary..."

I increased the pressure. His neck bones began to groan. "I don't care about the Chu family. They’re already ghosts. I want to know who the intermediary is. Who gave a Rank-2 mercenary twelve million in a frozen market?"

"I... I can't..."

I tightened my grip, and my other hand moved toward his remaining good arm. "Who paid you? Answer, and I’ll only take your hands. Lie, and I’ll take your soul."

Lu looked at my eyes and saw no mercy. He saw the 100 Trillion. He saw the God-Body. He saw his death.

"It was... the Dark Swan Group..." he gasped. "They’re at the docks... warehouse 47... they have the girl..."

"What girl?" I demanded.

"Your... your sister... Qin Yue... they found her..."

My heart stopped. I didn't have a sister. At least, I didn't think I did. But the System suddenly flared with a massive, crimson alert.

[System: Lineage Match Detected: Qin Yue (Status: Critical). Location: Warehouse 47.]

[New Objective: Blood Rescue. Reward: 10% God-Body Integration.]

I dropped Lu like a sack of trash. He slumped to the floor, weeping and clutching his ruined hand.

"Secretary Su," I said, my voice vibrating with a rage that made the building tremble.

"Y-yes, Chairman?" she stammered, stepping out from behind the pillar.

"Call the Hanhai security forces. Tell them to level Warehouse 47. And get the car. If my sister has a single scratch on her, I’m spending the next trillion on turning this city into a graveyard."

[: As I stepped over the glass toward the elevator, a cold, feminine laugh echoed through the penthouse's intercom system. "A sister, Qin Ming? You really are easy to manipulate. Did you really think we'd leave your only weakness unprotected? Warehouse 47 is a trap. And the fuse is already lit."]

[System: Warning! Warehouse 47 is rigged with a Spirit-Void Bomb. 5 minutes to detonation. Would you like to spend 10 Billion for 'God-Speed' transportation?]

"Spend it," I growled, the elevator doors closing on my shadow. "Spend it all."