The Northern Warlord Returns

CHAPTER 7

The private military club on the north hill was a fortress of heavy concrete, thick tinted glass, and absolute power.

Guarded by private security men carrying heavy weapons and encrypted radios, the club only let in the highest leaders of the military and big business.

Inside the large VIP room, the space smelled thick with old whiskey, expensive cigars, and pure pride.

General Thickcup was in a wide chair at the head of the dark table.

His chest was covered in rows of military medals, and his face was laced with pride.

Standing right beside him were Sean and Mr. Morgan, holding heavy glasses of liquor as they soaked in the warm glow of their great power.

"To the big wedding coming up," General Thickcup boomed, raising his glass with a loud, deep laugh that shook the room.

"A Morgan bride and a Thickcup groom. With our army contracts locked down and your building empire growing in every part of the city, nobody can dare us now. We own everything."

Mr. Morgan smiled broadly, tapping his glass against the General's with deep respect.

"It is all thanks to your strong help, General," Mr. Morgan said smoothly, his eyes crinkling with happy pride.

"With your high safety clearance and our business muscle, our position is rock solid. Even small problems from the past have been completely wiped away."

Sean gave a dark laugh, taking a long sip of his drink.

"Speaking of problems, you should have seen that loser Richard Eagle at the party last night. He looked so pathetic." Sean bragged, shaking his head with cruel amusement.

General Thickcup grunted in deep agreement, leaning back and blowing a thick cloud of cigar smoke up toward the ceiling.

"Serves him right. That is where bad dogs belong," Thickcup snarled, his eyes narrowing as old memories flashed through his mind.

"Years ago, when that ungrateful boy wore a uniform and thought he could question my orders, I made sure he was buried under a pile of fake charges. Men who do not know their place always end up in the dirt, hungry and forgotten."

Sean and Mr. Morgan laughed out loud, nodding in total agreement with the old soldier's harsh rules.

They felt totally unstoppable.

To them, power was a permanent crown made of steel and blood, and anyone they called a zero would always stay a zero.

A sudden knock at the wooden door stopped their loud celebration.

General Thickcup’s personal helper stepped into the room, holding a thin leather folder and looking a bit nervous.

"General, sorry to interrupt," the helper reported stiffly, standing straight and tall.

"We got a routine question from the Defense Ministry office about some old land papers and shipping rules tied to the old sector four properties."

Thickcup’s thick eyebrows pulled together into a sharp frown.

He put his glass down hard on the table, making the ice cubes rattle loudly.

"Sector four properties? Those are the old army camps from five years ago. Why is the Ministry poking around in old land papers now?"

"The computer system caught a small routine check," the helper explained carefully, opening the folder.

"Nothing big, sir. Just a standard city boundary check coming from an outside office. It looks like normal boring paperwork."

Mr. Morgan waved his hand, letting out a light, proud scoff.

"Relax, General. Office workers love pushing paper over nothing," Mr. Morgan said, smiling warmly.

"Every big company and government office gets thousands of automated check requests every week. It is just normal background noise."

Thickcup stared at the folder for a long time before grunting and waving his hand to send the helper away.

"Have the legal team stamp it and file it away. Make sure it is buried so deep nobody ever looks at it again," Thickcup ordered roughly.

"Yes, General," the helper answered, turning quickly and walking out of the room.

Sean poured himself another glass of whiskey, shaking his head while a proud grin spread across his face.

"See? Even government paperwork is nothing to worry about," Sean laughed, lifting his glass toward Mr. Morgan and the General.

"Let's get back to celebrating. Tomorrow, I marry Audrey, and our empire becomes completely safe."

The men raised their glasses high, laughing loudly as they traded stories of their past wins, blind to the real world around them.

They had no idea that the "small routine check" was not a random computer glitch at all.

Miles away, Richard Eagle stared calmly at his laptop screen. The shining screen showed the exact army file that General Thickcup’s helper had just brought up.

Richard sat in silence, his eyes showing the cool blue light of the monitor.

Oscar walked over, putting a fresh cup of coffee on the desk before looking down at the screen.

"Looks like Thickcup's helper just took the bait," Oscar said quietly, a wide, sharp grin forming on his lips.

"They think it's just a boring office check. They logged it, stamped it, and filed it away without a second thought."

Richard took a slow, calm sip of his coffee, his voice dropping to a low, cold tone.

"I told you they'd swallow it without a second thought," Richard said softly, his eyes fixed on the moving data.

"Someone walking through a minefield does not worry about the first little stone he steps on. He only realizes the danger when the ground under his feet suddenly turns to dust."

Oscar chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched his boss plan the next quiet move.

"They are sitting in their fortress right now, drinking champagne and laughing about how strong they are," Oscar murmured.

"They have no idea that every single paper they stamp and every file they push aside is just another brick pulling down their own tower."

Richard did not smile. He reached out, his fingers tapping a single key on the keyboard to lock in the next tiny, hidden step.

"Allow them to celebrate tonight, Oscar," Richard said softly, the shadows falling across his strong jaw.

"Tomorrow is the wedding. And that is when the real game begins.”