The heavy, gilded doors of the club didn't just open; they were slammed back against the marble walls with the force of an explosion. The rhythmic, heavy thud of military boots replaced the soft jazz of the ballroom.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Mu Feichi walked in, his olive-green military uniform crisp and unyielding. The gold tassels on his shoulders and the medals on his chest caught the light like shards of ice. He didn't look like a man who had been at death's door hours ago; he looked like the embodiment of vengeance.
But it was the woman on his arm who caused the glasses to slip from the guests' hands.
Shen Xi was dressed in a sleek, emerald-green gown that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her hair was swept up, and despite the black silk sling cradling her shoulder, she looked every bit like a queen returning to her throne. Her eyes, amber and lethal, scanned the room until they landed directly on Han Haotian.
Han Haotian's glass shattered on the floor. He scrambled to his feet, his face turning a sickly shade of grey. "You... you're alive? How is that possible?"
"You sound disappointed, Haotian," Mu Feichi's voice was a low, resonant rumble that carried to every corner of the room. "I'm sorry to ruin your celebration. It seems my physician is far more talented than your assassins."
Mu Feichi led Shen Xi toward the VIP booth, the crowd parting like the Red Sea. He didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of the table. He reached out, his hand still radiating a residual warmth from his forced recovery, clamping onto the edge of the mahogany table.
"Young Marshal," Si Weixuan stammered, her composure finally breaking. "We... we were just discussing the tragedy at the summit. We had no idea—"
"Save it, Weixuan," Shen Xi interrupted, her voice clear and cutting. "The Si family's fingerprints are all over the neurotoxin delivery. My calculations already tracked the chemical signature back to the rare botanical precursors used in your private lab."
"You have no proof!" Han Haotian roared, though his voice wavered.
"I don't need proof to destroy you, Haotian," Mu Feichi said, leaning in. His grey eyes were as cold as a winter morning. "I've already had Chen Yichen seize your assets. As of ten minutes ago, the Han Group is insolvent. And as for the Si family..."
He turned his gaze toward the door as Jiang Chenhuan entered, holding a tablet.
"The audit is complete, Sir," Chenhuan announced. "We've found the links to the rogue mercenaries. The Si family's connection to the Xiao lineage won't protect them from treason charges."
Shen Xi stepped forward, looking Han Haotian dead in the eye. "You thought you could take everything from me again? You forgot one thing. I'm not the girl you exiled. I'm the woman who knows exactly how you breathe, and I've decided you've had enough air."
In the distance, the sirens of the military police began to wail, drawing closer to the Imperial Club. Mu Feichi looked down at Shen Xi, his expression softening into something possessive and proud.
"Let's go, Doctor," he said. "The air in here has become stale."
As they walked out, leaving the elite of Jingdu in a state of panicked whispers, the power dynamic of the capital had shifted. The Han family was falling, and the Si family was under the military's microscope.