The Almighty Commander of Pyreking

Chapter 3

The Royal Grand Hotel towered over the downtown district. Flashes from cameras flickered constantly near the entrance as luxury limousines, sports cars, and transport vehicles lined up along the red carpet. Politicians, Business tycoons and media moguls stepped out in tailored tuxedos and glittering diamond gowns, nodding graciously to the surrounding reporters.

Tristan pulled the BMW 7 Series into the open VIP drop-off zone. He stepped out calmly, holding the door open for Chloe, who smiled at him, and ignored Vivian and Trevor, leaving them staring at him in contempt.

Vivian smoothed down her evening dress, her face beaming with smug pride as she looked around at the gathered high society. She didn't offer Tristan a single glance as she strutted up the stairs alongside Trevor.

Chloe paused at the bottom of the steps, her eyes lingering on the red mark near Tristan’s jaw. She opened her mouth to say something, but Vivian snapped her fingers impatiently, pulling her daughter into the lobby.

“Don't create a scene, forget about that nobody.” She whispered to Chloe.

Tristan drove the vehicle down to the parking area. He parked and turned off the engine, stepping out.

He walked over to a curb near a row of neatly trimmed hedges and sat down. From his pocket, he pulled out a can of coffee, popped the tab, and took a slow sip.

The night air felt soothing against his bruised cheek.

Ten minutes passed in peaceful silence before the rumble of a custom V8 engine resonated from the alley behind the parking structure.

A luxury car with tinted bulletproof glass rolled smoothly into the shadows, coming to a halt just a few yards from where Tristan sat.

The passenger door opened without a sound, and a man in a red suit stepped out.

The man was Brent, the Shadow Commander of the The Pyreking Dynasty, a legendary operative whose name alone caused underground gang across three continents to tremble.

Yet, as Brent stepped out of his car, his demeanor changed entirely. He walked forward, stopping five feet from Tristan before bowing, his head held low in reverence.

"Commander," Brent spoke in a respectful voice.

“Brent!”

He held out a black folder stamped with a subtle gold dragon crest.

"The High Council has finalized the liquidation of the eastern rebel cartels. Furthermore, the global financial directors are awaiting your signature to release the strategic reserves for the quarter."

Tristan didn't immediately take the file. He took another sip of his coffee, watching the bright lights of the hotel lobby.

"Hold the operations, Brent," Tristan said calmly, "Tonight, I am not here as the Commander of the Pyreking Dynasty. I am here only as Douglas’s brother, paying a debt to a man who died for me."

Brent hesitated, his eyes flickering with concern as he noticed the subtle swelling on Tristan’s left jawline.

A cold glint passed through Brent’s eyes.

"Commander, your face," Brent whispered, his hand instinctively resting against the hidden holster beneath his jacket. "Did someone dare to lay a hand on you? Give the word, and my team will erase them before the hour ends."

"No," Tristan said, raising his hand dismissively, "It is a family matter. Keep your team in the perimeter shadows and do not interfere unless I give the direct order."

"Understood, Commander," Brent bowed again, accepting the command without question.

Tristan reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a simple cloth pouch tied with a worn leather drawstring.

Inside was a square object forged from ancient gold and jade, the authentic seal, the ultimate symbol of supreme authority over The Pyreking Dynasty. He slipped it back into his inner coat pocket, feeling its reassuring weight against his chest.

"Go, Brent. Keep an eye on Lord Bruce’s movement inside," Tristan instructed.

"At once, Commander," Brent murmured, slipping back into his car. The vehicle vanished as silently as it had arrived.

Tristan sat back down on the curb, taking another drink from his can.

"Ah, there you are, Look at the noble protector."

Trevor Rhodes strolled out from the VIP side entrance, holding a long Cuban cigar and a lighter. He stopped right in front of Tristan, a smile plastered across his face.

"I came out to get some fresh air before the main event, and what do I find?" Trevor chuckled, flicking his lighter to ignite his cigar. "A stray dog sitting in the dirt, drinking three-cent garbage. You really know your place in this world, don't you, Tristan?"

Tristan didn't answer. He kept his eyes fixed on the main entrance, his expression indifferent.

Trevor’s eyes narrowed slightly at Tristan’s lack of response. He hated that quiet look in Tristan’s eyes, it made him feel strangely small, despite all his money and status.

Trevor took a step closer and casually swung his right shoe forward, kicking the coffee can straight out of Tristan’s hand.

The liquid splashed across, splattering over Tristan’s leather boots and the hem of his trousers. The empty can rolled into the gutter.

"Oops," Trevor laughed loudly, tapping the ash from his cigar onto the ground near Tristan’s feet. "My foot slipped. But honestly, that trash was doing your health a favor anyway."

Trevor reached into his wallet, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and tossed it disdainfully onto Tristan’s lap.

"Here’s twenty bucks," Trevor sneered, leaning down slightly so his face was inches from Tristan’s. "Take it, go buy yourself another cheap drink, and make sure you wipe down my tyres before the auction ends. If I see a single drop of mud on my wheels when Chloe and I come out, I'll have the hotel security beat you until you can't walk."

Tristan looked down at the twenty-dollar bill. He didn't pick it up, nor did he wipe his splashed boots. Slowly, he raised his head, his dark eyes locking onto Trevor’s face with an icy.

Trevor’s smile faltered for a second. For a moment, Trevor felt as if he were staring into the eyes of a hungry beast waiting in the dark.

"You should head back inside, Trevor," Tristan said, "The grand stage is waiting for you. Make sure you play your part well."

Trevor swallowed hard, forcing a harsh laugh to mask the tremor in his fingers. "Tch! Arrogant till the end. Stay out here in the cold where you belong, loser."

Trevor walked back toward the hotel lobby, trying his best to look confident.

Inside the ballroom of the Hotel, over hundreds of seated guests. The atmosphere was charged with excitement as the city's highest socialites buzzed with anticipation.

Vivian and Chloe sat at a front-row VIP table, flanked by high-ranking executives. Vivian held her bidding paddle tightly in her lap, her eyes shining with manic ambition.

Up on the stage, an auctioneer stepped behind a podium, holding a gavel. Two security guards stood on either side of a velvet-covered pedestal.

TAP!

The auctioneer struck the wooden block, silencing the chatter across the entire room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, and esteemed leaders," the auctioneer announced, his voice booming through the sound system. "The moment you have all been waiting for has finally arrived. Tonight, we present the crown jewel of our historical collection!"

The guards carefully pulled back the cloth, revealing a glowing green jade seal carved with intricate dragon patterns.

"The Ancient Phoenix Jade seal!" the auctioneer declared passionately. "A priceless treasure of sovereign heritage. We will begin the bidding at an opening price of five million dollars!"