The distant roar of engines filled the air as the Dragon Society made their presence known. Through the massive glass windows of the Jade Dragon Hotel, sleek black cars with crimson dragon emblems lined the entrance.
Lucas Zhao clenched his jaw, glancing at Xiao Lian. "They chose a damn good time for this."
Xiao Lian, unfazed, reached for the dagger hidden in the slit of her silk qipao. Her eyes flickered toward Ochieng, who remained seated, swirling the wine in his glass as if he were merely a guest at a casual dinner.
Lucas turned to him. "Ochieng, you wanted fun? Here's your chance. Let's see if your name is as powerful as the whispers say."
Ochieng smirked. He placed the glass down and slowly stood, adjusting the cuffs of his midnight-black suit.
BANG!
The sound of a shotgun blast echoed from the lobby. The tension in the air snapped like a taut string.
"Move!" Lucas barked, signaling his men. Within seconds, guards in suits rushed to secure the exits, pulling out semi-automatic weapons.
Xiao Lian tossed a gun toward Ochieng. "You'll need this."
Ochieng caught it effortlessly but merely glanced at it before setting it down. "Unnecessary."
Xiao Lian raised an eyebrow. "You planning to fight them with charm?"
"Something like that." He smirked.
The elevator dinged.
Everyone turned.
The golden doors slid open, revealing a man in a deep red suit, flanked by six masked men in dragon-embroidered attire.
Shen Rui.
A name that sent chills through the underworld. He was the ruthless enforcer of the Dragon Society, a man whose reputation was built on blood.
He stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. "Lucas Zhao, Xiao Lian... and the mysterious Ochieng. I must say, quite the gathering."
Lucas tightened his grip on his pistol. "You should've called if you wanted an invitation."
Shen Rui smirked. "I don't ask for invitations. I take them."
Ochieng, amused, stepped forward. "And what is it you want, Shen Rui?"
Shen Rui's sharp gaze locked onto him. "Your identity has been an enigma. The whispers say you are a ghost, a phantom who walks between power and poverty. I came to see if the rumors were true."
Ochieng chuckled. "And?"
Shen Rui tilted his head. "And… I don't believe in ghosts."
A deadly silence settled in the room.
Then—BANG!
One of Shen Rui's men fired, aiming for Ochieng's head.
But before the bullet could find its mark—Ochieng moved.
A blur of motion. A twist. A flick of his wrist.
And then—CRACK!
The shooter's wrist snapped at an unnatural angle before he even realized what had happened. He screamed, dropping the gun as he fell to his knees.
Ochieng stood over him, completely unharmed, eyes dark with something unreadable.
The room held its breath.
Shen Rui's smirk faltered.
Ochieng sighed, looking at his watch. "I really hate wasting time."
Then, he moved again—this time faster.
One step. Two steps. A sidestep. A strike.
BAM!
Shen Rui's second-in-command was sent flying across the room, crashing into a marble pillar.
Lucas and Xiao Lian exchanged glances. He wasn't just fast. He was untouchable.
Ochieng dusted off his sleeve and met Shen Rui's gaze. "Now, unless you have something important to say, I suggest you leave before I get serious."
Shen Rui clenched his fists. For the first time in years, he felt something unfamiliar—fear.
He turned to his men. "We're leaving."
The masked figures hesitated, but at a single glance from Shen Rui, they obeyed. Within seconds, they disappeared into the elevator.
Silence followed.
Lucas whistled, sitting back down. "Damn. I think I just fell in love."
Xiao Lian crossed her arms. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."
Ochieng simply poured himself another glass of wine. "Now that that's over, let's talk business."