The One Above All

C4: Lucky To Meet You

Two hours later when Veyron stepped out of the hospital, night had already fallen. The city lights flickered alive.

Jasmine had insisted he stay, but he refused. Her rental home was already too small for her family. Adding one more person would just be an inconvenience.

He walked along the road, calm and silent. The plan was to find a hotel nearby where he could spend the night.

However, he had only gone a few meters down the road when—

VROOM!

A luxurious car pulled up by the side. Smooth, sleek and silent. It was the latest model of Bentley Mulsanne.

The door swung open and a middle-aged butler stepped out. He walked to the passenger door and respectfully opened the door with a bow.

An elderly man stepped out slowly. He wore a simple robe of muted color, yet every thread spoke of refinement.

The walking stick in his hand appeared plain at first glance, but its golden tip gave away information of its value.

Nothing about him was flashy, yet everything about him spoke of wealth. Veyron's eyes squinted slightly.

The old man walked toward him, his steps slow and measured. Then suddenly, he let go of his cane.

"Master—!" the butler panicked.

But before he could react or rush forward to support his master—

THUD!

THUD!

The old man's knees slammed into the ground.

The butler froze.

The driver froze.

The passing cars faded into the background. And even the air stilled.

---

"I, Reginald Langford, humble disciple of the Vanguard Council, greets the Legendary Marshal of Meridian," the old man's voice trembled, not from fear but reverence.

He lowered his head to the ground completely. "And on behalf of Highmont's city, I welcome you."

Veyron looked down at him. He didn't look surprised. Rather, his expression was emotionless and unreadable.

"Who told you I was here?"

Reginald lifted his head. "Master Leonald, my Lord."

"Leonald?" There was a brief pause before Veyron lowered his gaze. His voice was calm, almost indifferent. "That man never learns."

Were those people so worried that something would happen to him after his release that they had to instruct the wealthiest man in Highmont city to find him?

"Get up," his gaze rested on Reginald.

"I have been expelled from the Vanguard Council and I no longer hold the title of the Legendary Warlord so you can return now."

But Reginald didn't move.

"If not for you… I would have died years ago."

His grip tightened on the ground.

"My life belongs to you."

---

Veyron's gaze shifted slightly. Memories of gunfire, blood, and chaos flickered.

Years ago, Reginald and a few other associates had been held hostage by the forces of a notorious kingpin.

It was a rescue mission every single security force in the country had called impossible.

---

Veyron turned away. "I didn't save you for loyalty."

Reginald shook his head sideways. "No, my Lord. I thought for sure that my time was already up. Who knew I'd be lucky to meet you?"

After saving his life back then, Veyron had earned his gratitude for a lifetime. He had been seeking an opportunity to repay his debt.

And this time, the heavens have helped him by directing Veyron to Highmont's city.

---

There was a pause before Veyron stepped past the old man, slowly.

"If you want to follow… then follow."

He didn't say more, but Reginald's eyes trembled and he stood up immediately. He shook with excitement as he ordered.

"Prepare the car!"

---

Later, the silver Bentley Mulsanne moved through the city smoothly. Veyron sat by the window.

His eyes half-lidded. His thoughts unknown. His fingers continuously tapping his knees in a slow, lazy manner.

"Help me find someone."

Reginald straightened instantly. "Yes, my Lord."

An old, faded photo was handed over. But the little girl in the picture was still very visible, and her smile was the sweetest Reginald had ever seen.

"Her name is Iris."

Reginald was very curious. Who is she? Is she related to the Legendary Marshal? But he didn't ask any questions, nor did he hesitate.

He lowered his head and made a few calls instantly. As long as this girl was in the city, he could get any information he wanted about her in the twinkle of an eye.

Within minutes, information began flowing in. Then, Reginald's expression changed slightly.

"My Lord..."

"There is someone."

Veyron didn't look at him. His fingers continued tapping his knees lazily.

"Iris Blackwell."

Now, his fingers halted and his eyes shifted. She's the one?

---

Across the city, a five-star hotel glowed under golden lights. And, inside one of its private rooms, Iris Blackwell sat elegantly.

A silk dress in a deep shade of wine draped over her slender frame, accentuating her curves without appearing vulgar. The neckline was modest, yet irresistibly elegant.

Her skin was flawless and her silky black hair was pinned neatly. Her facial features were too exquisite— too composed.

And her beautiful eyes were dark and icy, giving off a cold, untouchable aura. But the slight flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

Empty wine bottles littered the table, a silent evidence of how much she had already drunk.

And across her, an ugly, fat man smiled. Greedy, patient, and disgusting.

"Miss Blackwell… just one more glass. A toast to our successful cooperation in future."

She hesitated. Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

"I've had... enough… I can't... drink... anymore... Mr Rothwell."

But he leaned forward. His voice softer and dangerous.

"Are you refusing me, Miss Blackwell? You won't even have one last toast with me? Do you really want to sign the contract or not?"

A wave of silence filled the room. She had to make a choice. The project, her future, or her pride.

Slowly, she picked up the glass and—

GULP.

The room tilted as her vision blurred. But the man smiled. "Good."

She stood. Or tried to. However, her body swayed.

Just then, a hand caught her firmly. Too familiar.

"Careful there, Miss Blackwell… Should I take you to the resting area to get some rest?"

His grip tightened around her waist. And this time, she felt it.

Something was wrong.