Liam's Perspective
The air in the private eting room at Riverside Hotel crackled with tension. Alistair Northwood's face had gone pale, his eyes darting nervously between and the red-faced man across the table.
"Mr. Vega, please reconsider," Alistair pleaded. "This partnership would benefit both of our companies trendously."
Alister Vega – heir to the Vega Enterprises fortune and apparently my latest problem – glared at with undisguised hatred.
"You expect to do business with a man who struck in public?" he snarled, pointing a manicured finger at . "Do you know who I am?"
I suppressed a sigh. This was getting old. Every entitled brat in Havenwood seed to think their family na was a shield against consequences.
"You're the guy who tried to force himself on a waitress at Café Laurent last month," I replied calmly. "The one whose wrist I nearly broke."
Alistair winced beside . This wasn't going as planned. When he'd called this morning asking for another favor – a simple business introduction – I hadn't expected my past to collide with his future so spectacularly.
Vega's face darkened. "That's right. And now you've cost face twice." He leaned forward, lips curled in a sneer. "I'll make this simple for you, Knight. Either you kneel and apologize to right now, or you send your girlfriend to my hotel room tonight. Your choice."
The room went dead silent.
Alistair's breathing quickened. "Mr. Vega, surely we can—"
I raised my hand, cutting him off. "It's alright, Alistair."
I stood slowly, straightened my jacket, and walked around the table. Vega's smile widened as I approached, triumph gleaming in his eyes.
"Smart choice," he smirked. "On your knees then—"
My fist connected with his jaw before he could finish. His head snapped back, and he crashed to the floor in a heap of expensive clothing and wounded pride.
"Liam!" Alistair gasped, jumping to his feet.
Vega scrambled backward, his hand covering what would soon be an impressive bruise. "You're dead! Do you hear ? DEAD!"
I reached down, grabbed his collar, and hauled him up. "Threatening my girlfriend was your second mistake. Your first was assuming I cared about who you are."
"My uncle is Braydon Yates!" he spat, blood trickling from his split lip. "President of the River North Martial Arts Association!"
I smiled coldly. "Never heard of him."
I slamd him against the wall, feeling a rush of dark satisfaction as fear replaced arrogance in his eyes. The Heaven Swallowing Skill stirred inside , hungry as always.
"Call him," I suggested. "I'm curious to et this uncle who raised such a pathetic excuse for a man."
Vega's eyes narrowed. "You want to call him? You'll regret that."
"Do it."
I released him and stepped back. Vega straightened his rumpled suit with trembling hands, his veneer of confidence cracking.
"Liam," Alistair whispered urgently. "Braydon Yates is not soone to provoke. He controls every martial artist in River North District. He's a Martial Marquis."
I shrugged. "So was Dashiell Blackthorne."
Alistair went even paler. anwhile, Vega was already on his phone, speaking rapidly in hushed tones. From his gestures and the glimpses of his furious expression, I gathered he was painting quite the dramatic picture of his victimhood.
"He's coming," Vega announced smugly as he ended the call. "With three Grandmasters. You should start running now, Knight. It might give you a head start."
I pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'll wait."
"Your funeral," Vega spat, then grimaced as pain shot through his leg. I'd kicked him harder than I thought.
Alistair slumped into the chair beside , looking defeated. "We're trapped four stories up in his family's hotel. The security here answers to him."
"Worried about , Alistair?" I asked.
"Worried about both of us," he muttered. "I dragged you into this."
I waved away his concern. "You asked for a business eting. This—" I gestured at the fuming Vega, "—is all on him."
While we waited for the arrival of Braydon Yates and his entourage, I pulled out my phone and opened The Warrior's Scroll. Might as well catch up on the latest news about myself. Sаmplе frоm Мy Virtuаl Librаry Еmpirе—rеаd mоrе оn
The headline made raise an eyebrow: "POTENTIAL RANKING UPDATED: HAVENWOOD'S DEMON CLIMBS TO SECOND PLACE."
I scrolled through the article, scanning the rankings. There I was at number two, just below so prodigy from the Sacred Mountain Sect. My mysterious "heart thod" was ntioned again, along with speculation about my "demonic cultivation path."
"You find this funny?" Vega demanded, noticing my small smile. "You'll be begging for rcy soon enough."
"I'm just reading about myself," I replied, turning my phone to show him the article. "Apparently I'm quite newsworthy."
His eyes widened as he recognized the ranking. "That's... that's impossible. The Potential Ranking is for real cultivators, not street thugs!"
"And yet, here I am." I continued scrolling. "Oh, look at this – the Ashworth Family is publicly recruiting talents. Offering resources, protection, and advancent opportunities. Interesting timing."
Alistair leaned over to look. "Corbin Ashworth making his move?"
"Seems that way," I nodded. "Gathering allies before coming after directly."
Vega watched our casual conversation with growing confusion and rage. "Are you insane? My uncle will be here any minute!"
"You ntioned that," I said, pocketing my phone. "Multiple tis."
A commotion in the hallway made Vega straighten up, a vindictive smile spreading across his face. "He's here."
The door swung open. First ca two stern-faced n in traditional martial attire – Grandmasters, based on their bearing and the faint energy radiating from them. Next was a woman with similar status, her eyes cold and assessing as they swept the room.
Finally, a broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair strode in. Even without the deference shown by the others, his power was unmistakable. Braydon Yates carried himself with the absolute confidence of soone used to imdiate obedience.
"Uncle!" Vega limped forward. "This is the man! The one who attacked ! I want him crippled!"
Braydon Yates raised a hand, silencing his nephew. His eyes locked onto , and sothing strange happened. His expression shifted from stern authority to disbelief, then shock.
The room fell silent as Braydon Yates stared at as if seeing a ghost.
"You..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The three Grandmasters exchanged confused glances. This clearly wasn't the reception they'd expected.
I rose slowly to my feet, watching the powerful martial artist's face pale before .
"Do I know you?" I asked, genuinely curious about his reaction.
Vega looked between us, confusion replacing his smugness. "Uncle? What's wrong? That's him – Liam Knight! The one who attacked !"
Braydon Yates seed not to hear his nephew. His eyes never left my face as he took a step forward.
"It can't be..." he murmured. "After all these years..."
"Uncle!" Vega grabbed his arm. "I demand you punish him! Break his limbs! He humiliated !"
Braydon Yates finally tore his gaze from to look at his nephew. Sothing dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes.
"You have no idea what you've done," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "No idea who you've provoked."
I stood perfectly still, processing the unexpected turn of events. This powerful man recognized . But from where? And why did he look at with such... fear?
Alistair watched the scene with bewildernt, as confused as I was. The three Grandmasters had shifted positions subtly, forming a protective triangle around their leader rather than preparing to attack .
"What are you talking about?" Vega demanded, his voice rising with hysteria. "He's nobody! Just so upstart who—"
"Silence!" Braydon Yates thundered, making everyone in the room flinch. "You foolish boy! Look at him. Really look at him!"
All eyes turned to . I t their gazes steadily, giving nothing away despite my inner turmoil. The jade pendant beneath my shirt seed to grow warr against my skin.
"I don't understand," Vega said, his earlier confidence evaporating. "Uncle, who is he?"
Braydon Yates straightened his shoulders, composing himself with visible effort. When he spoke again, his voice was asured, controlled.
"Mr. Knight," he said formally, inclining his head in a gesture that fell just short of a bow. "I apologize for my nephew's behavior. It seems he has forgotten his manners."
"Uncle!" Vega gasped, scandalized.
"Be quiet if you want to leave this room intact," Yates snapped without looking at him. His attention remained fixed on , his eyes searching my face for... sothing.
"You seem to know ," I said carefully. "Yet I don't recall eting you before."
A sad smile touched his lips. "No, you wouldn't rember. It was a long ti ago." He turned to his nephew. "Apologize to Mr. Knight. Now."
"What?" Vega looked like he might faint. "You can't be serious!"
One of the Grandmasters stepped forward, his hand moving to his belt. "Do as the President says."
Vega's face contorted with rage and humiliation. "I will not apologize to this—"
Braydon Yates moved so fast I barely saw it. His hand shot out, gripping his nephew's injured leg. Vega scread as sothing cracked.
"I said apologize," Yates repeated coldly.
White-faced and trembling, Vega turned to . "I... I apologize for my behavior," he choked out.
I raised an eyebrow at the unexpected developnt. "Accepted."
Braydon Yates released his nephew, who collapsed into a chair, clutching his now-broken leg. He wiped his hand on a handkerchief as if touching Vega had soiled him.
"Mr. Knight," he said, turning back to . "I would be honored if you would join for tea. There are... matters we should discuss."
"Uncle!" Vega protested weakly. "You can't—"
"One more word," Yates said without looking at him, "and I'll break the other leg too."
Vega fell silent, tears of pain and humiliation streaming down his face.
I glanced at Alistair, who looked as stunned as I felt. He gave a slight nod, signaling that I should accept the invitation.
"Tea sounds good," I agreed. "But my friend Alistair cos too."
Yates considered this, then nodded. "As you wish." He gestured toward the door. "My private quarters are in the penthouse."
As we prepared to leave, Yates paused by his sobbing nephew. "Consider yourself fortunate that he accepted your apology. There are others who would have taken your head for such disrespect."
The three Grandmasters ford a protective formation around us as we exited the room, leaving Alister Vega alone with his pain and confusion.
In the elevator, no one spoke. Braydon Yates stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes occasionally darting to my face before looking away again, as if afraid of what he might see.
Alistair shot a questioning look. I gave him a subtle shrug. I was as baffled as he was.
As the elevator climbed, one thing beca clear – Braydon Yates knew sothing about . Sothing that turned a powerful martial artist from vengeful enforcer to cautious host in seconds.
Perhaps, at last, I would get so answers about my mysterious past. About the jade pendant. About who I really was.
Or perhaps I was walking into another trap. Either way, I would face it head-on.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing the luxurious penthouse of the Riverside Hotel. Braydon Yates stepped out first, his voice unnervingly soft as he said:
"Welco, son of the Shadow King."
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