"If Yiyo hadn't been eliminated, there's no way Lin Coen could've inherited the Lyn family fortune," Black Tiger muttered darkly, his tone filled with resentment. "That's tens of billions of dollars in assets."
"Brother Coen, don't worry," Black Tiger assured him. "Once we've recovered from our injuries, we'll go after him. I swear to you—he's not walking away from this. That bastard's going to pay!"
Lin Coen, seated with a heavy presence, spoke in a calmer tone, his eyes glinting with menace. "It's best if only the few of us know about this. The more people involved, the higher the risk. Outsourcing this kind of job invites trouble—especially with thugs like Black Tiger's gang. If the pressure becomes too much, they might spill everything. That would hurt us both."
After a brief pause, his expression softened slightly. "Alright, I'll give you one more chance. Rest, heal, and when you've recovered, we'll take down Yang Mo together."
Black Tiger nodded with bloodthirsty conviction. "Don't worry, Brother Coen. Even if you hadn't asked, I was going to take him out. He's humiliated us. My brothers have never taken such a heavy blow before. I swear I'll make him bleed."
He leaned back, then added, "Speaking of which… how are the others?"
"The Hare's fine. But Pheasant… not so much. He took a brutal kick in the crotch," Black Tiger said with a grimace. "One of his testicles burst due to poor resuscitation. Irreparable."
At that, he turned to glance at the hospital bed where Mountain Chicken lay unconscious, face pale and sweat-drenched.
"Losing a ball… can you even call yourself a man after that?" Black Tiger mumbled. "What a damn shame."
Even Lin Coen was speechless for a moment. Then, with a hint of dark humor, he muttered, "Sounds more like a eunuch to me."
"Not a eunuch," Black Tiger replied defensively. "Just... missing one."
Lin Coen chuckled coldly, though a flicker of discomfort passed his face. He usually turned to such men for handling the Lyn family's dirty work—sending them to women, having them tie up loose ends, do the unspoken tasks. The idea of one of his men being half the man he was… it made things inconvenient.
"I'll transfer two million to your card later," Lin Coen said. "Consider it compensation for Chicken."
Black Tiger's eyes widened. "Two million?! Thank you, Coen! Seriously!"
"As long as you get the job done, the rewards will keep coming," Lin Coen said sternly. "But if you screw up again, there won't be a next time. Understood?"
He stared hard at the thug. For men like Black Tiger, it wasn't just about paying them—it was about controlling them. Keep them greedy, but afraid. That balance was something he had learned from his father, Lin Andong.
"We understand, Brother Coen," Black Tiger said seriously, bowing slightly.
"Good. Then we'll go dark for now," Lin Coen said. "No contact until you're fully healed."
With that, he hung up.
As he set the phone down, Lin Coen's mind was already turning—calculating the next move, planning each step in this silent war.
Just then, Mountain Chicken stirred on the bed, groggy from painkillers and trauma.
"Tiger... was that the boss just now?" he asked drowsily, voice weak.
"Yeah," Black Tiger replied, smirking. "Coen said he'd send you five hundred thousand as a pension. Said it was the least he could do, seeing how bad you got hurt."
"Five... hundred... thousand?" Chicken's eyes nearly popped open in shock. "Coen is amazing..."
He tried to sit up in excitement but instantly regretted it as a sharp, blinding pain shot through his groin. He collapsed back onto the bed, clutching the blanket with a wince.
Black Tiger leaned in, lowering his voice. "Honestly, he was only going to give you three hundred. I spent all day sweet-talking him to raise it to five."
Chicken's eyes welled up with tears. "Brother Tiger, you're... too good to me! I swear, my life is yours from now on!"
"Relax," Black Tiger said with a grin, slapping him gently on the shoulder. "As long as you follow me, there'll be food on your table and women in your arms."
Meanwhile, early the next morning before dawn, Joy Fong sat awake in bed, her eyes bloodshot and restless.
She hadn't slept all night.
Everything she had believed—everything she had sacrificed for—felt like a lie now.
For years, she'd told herself that Lin Coen was Lin Andong's rightful son. That she'd raised him in a rightful place in this family.
But now?
Now she knew.
And it was tearing her apart.
She wanted to storm into the Lyn estate and confront Lin Andong. Wanted to shout at him, make him pay for years of betrayal.
But she didn't.
Not yet.
Because her daughters were right—it wasn't time. One wrong move now, and all the cards she held could crumble.
Once Lin Coen's true identity was revealed, everything would spiral. The balance of power in the household would shift. The heirs would fight. The fortune would fracture.
And knowing Lin Andong... he'd do anything to keep that from happening.
Joy Fong gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, trembling.
"I'm not some weak woman you can walk over," she whispered to herself, staring into the mirror. "I'll make you pay for this."
The shares, the property, the legacy—it was all in jeopardy now. A single misstep could lead to ruin.
She closed her eyes, trying to calm the storm within.
In that moment, the image of her father—Elder Joe—appeared in her mind.
Back then, he had begged her not to get involved with Lin Andong.
She had defied him.
And now, she was paying the price.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
She wandered to her vanity mirror, hands trembling as she tried to apply makeup, covering up the dark circles that painted her tired eyes. But no amount of foundation could hide the weight she carried.
Downstairs, her three daughters were already waiting in the living room. They stood the moment she descended the staircase.
"You're all up so early?" she asked, surprised.
But her eyes scanned the room quickly, and her tone darkened.
"Where's Coen?"
When she mentioned Lin Coen, her voice no longer carried the warmth it once did. It was colder now, harder—like a mother scorned by the son she'd protected.
The daughters glanced at one another nervously. None of them dared to answer.
Because they all felt it.
The storm was coming.
And it began with the Lyn family's darkest secrets.