I don't forget attacks. Especially not ones made in the dark.
The flower shop explosion wasn't just a warning,it was a provocation. A way to test whether I was still the same man they tried to bury two years ago. Back then, The Circle believed I had grown too powerful too quickly. They whispered that my rule came from luck and blood rather than legacy. They schemed behind closed doors, sent traitors from within my ranks, and spread their roots into every system I once owned.
They thought they'd ended me in Marrakesh.
But the dragon they buried had claws. And now I was done pretending to sleep.
By morning, I had gathered a list. Not of suspects. Not of culprits. But of weak links. Everyone who had done business with The Circle in the last six months in this city. Brokers. Couriers. Finance puppets. Shell owners hiding accounts under charitable causes.
It wasn't a long list. The Circle moved quietly.
But even quiet networks leave fingerprints when they become cocky.
I lit a cigarette I didn't plan to finish and handed the list to Duan Yu in the backseat of the black Phantom.
"We begin with the banker," I said. "If they wanted smoke, we'll give them fire."
He didn't speak, but the glint in his eyes told me he understood.
That evening, at exactly 7:00 p.m., six unmarked vehicles surrounded the second floor of a luxury private equity firm in downtown Jincheng. At 7:03, the power was cut. At 7:05, an entire server room was silently gutted and extracted by a specialized recovery team wearing fake telecom uniforms. No gunshots. No blood. Just silence and a dozen hard drives full of black-market wire transfers now in my possession.
The message was simple: I see your hand.
But I'm cutting off the fingers before they reach for my throne.
*****
The city had barely begun reacting to the destruction of the flower shop when the second blow landed. I leaked just enough financial data to trigger audits on three mid-tier companies operating in The Circle's shadow. Their stocks tanked within twelve hours. Investors panicked. Bank accounts froze. Men and women who had sipped wine with senators two days ago now fled the country like rats our of a burning house.
And I didn't say a word publicly.
Not one.
Because fear works best when it doesn't have a face.
****
That night, I returned to the Zhang villa briefly to avoid suspicion. Zhang Deshun had begun treating me like a volatile tycoon who might burn his house down if spoken to incorrectly. Meiling offered me tea without comment, as if our past had evaporated overnight. But Xue'er… she was watching again.
I could feel her stare from across the table. Not accusing. Not cold.
Just… searching.
She waited until the others had gone to bed before approaching me on the veranda. The moonlight spilled across her face, and she wore a pale blue sweater I'd never seen before, it was simple, elegant, different from her usual armor of silks and pearls.
"Was it you?" she asked.
I didn't pretend to misunderstand.
"You'll need to be more specific," I replied.
"The bombing," she said quietly. "The flower shop. Then the stock crashes today. Rumors are everywhere. They say Dragon Holdings orchestrated it. That you retaliated."
Her voice wasn't filled with fear.
It was laced with something sharper,unease… maybe curiosity.
I stood, walked to the railing, and let the cool wind hit my face.
"I don't start fires, Xue'er," I said finally. "But I never leave threats unanswered."
"You could've killed someone."
I looked back at her. "I didn't.I only answered in kind."
Her arms wrapped around herself, but it wasn't from the cold.
"You've changed," she whispered.
"No," I said. "You're just starting to see."
We stood in silence for a long moment before she spoke again, her voice tight.
"Is this who you really are? The man behind all this?"
I met her gaze. "No. That's who I have to be."
Then I turned and left her under the stars, because the next part of the night required a different version of me—the one she might not be ready to see.
****
It was almost midnight when the assassin arrived.
I'd been expecting him since the warning letter. The Circle never threatened twice. They sent tokens first, then emissaries. And if that didn't work… they sent blades.
He entered through the rear balcony of the penthouse suite atop Sky Eagle Tower, bypassing six layers of biometric security with a subtlety that made me nod in respect.
Tall. Dressed in black from neck to boots. No mask. No visible weapons.
But I saw the way his left foot favored silence over speed. I saw the tendon twitch in his neck when he spotted the tea set I'd left steaming on the table. Every movement screamed discipline.
He thought I didn't know he was already in the room.
I poured a second cup of tea.
"Care for jasmine?" I asked calmly.
He froze.
Just for a second.
Then stepped fully into the light.
His voice was smooth, almost apologetic. "They told me you were sharper than the rest."
"And yet you still walked in through the balcony like a second-rate thief," I replied.
That earned the ghost of a smirk.
"I'm not here to kill you," he said. "If I were, we wouldn't be talking."
"No," I agreed. "You're here to deliver a final proposal."
He stepped closer but never sat.
"The Board is offering you a seat. Conditional. Quiet. No public moves. No retaliation. You get to keep your empire… if you remember who built the table you now dance on."
I stood slowly, letting him see I wasn't afraid.
"I built my empire with blood," I said. "Not their permission. And I don't dance. I hunt."
He studied me, then let the polite mask fall away.
"They won't ask again."
I stepped forward until we were a breath apart.
"Then they'd better send someone stronger next time."
The silence between us tightened like a noose. Finally, the man inclined his head, turned, and exited the way he came leaving no footprints, no threat, no trace.
But I knew what his presence meant.
I was out of time.
***
The next morning, as the sun bled over the skyline, the first major international paper released an article:
"Ghost Empire: The Return of the Dragon King?"
Anonymous sources within the upper economic spheres suggest that the rumored death of Li Tian, founder of the now-global Dragon Holdings, was staged. More alarmingly, they hint that the man once known only through whispers has re-emerged in East Asia under a new face… and a vengeance.
****
Back at the Zhang villa, I found Xue'er standing alone in the garden, clutching a newspaper.
"You saw it," I said.
She didn't answer at first. Then slowly turned toward me, her expression unreadable.
"Is it true?" she asked. "Dragon King… is that who you were?"
I stepped closer. "Still am."
She looked down, lips trembling slightly. "So I've been living with the most dangerous man in the city for three years… and I never knew?"
I didn't move.
"You were grieving," I said. "Grieving for your grandfather. Hating the marriage. And I… needed to be invisible."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.
"You could have left. You could have run away and rebuilt quietly. Why come back?"
"Because I didn't lose everything in Morocco," I said. "Not all of it. There was one thing left I couldn't abandon."
Her breath caught.
"What was it?" she asked.
I looked at her then,not just the daughter of a corrupt dynasty, not just the woman who once mocked me. But the woman who, despite all odds, had begun to care. To question.
To believe.
"You."
She stared at me, stunned.
I didn't wait for her to respond.
Because a war was coming.