"You're leaving soon, aren't you?" Liu Ruyan's eyes sharpened; she'd caught the hint in Chen Xiao's hesitation.
Chen Xiao nodded, awkward. "I have important business."
She bristled. "Is that what men do? A few days and you're gone—am I just a toy to you?" Her voice turned cold. Chen Xiao's face remained unreadable. "Our arrangement was always transactional, wasn't it?" he said. Liu Ruyan snorted and turned away.
Chen Xiao rose. "Forget your station and focus on strengthening yourself," he said softly, then left.
Hidden behind the curtains, sore and unsettled, Liu Ruyan watched him go. Chen Xiao glanced back once—[Dragon's Breath] had already told him she was peeking—and then he vanished. The little maid's timid voice floated across the room. "Master… he's gone?" Liu Ruyan let out a breath. "I just hope he remembers me in a month."
Chen Xiao drove north alone. He'd sent Fatty back to Jiangbei to find Jiang YunHan—Pig Spirit was a rare talent and would make a fine pillar for the Triangle Base. The dream was to build something that wouldn't depend on one man's strength. He needed pillars; he needed a true base.
—
The Yang family stronghold in the capital rose like a fortress: high walls, banners snapping in the wind. Inside were training grounds, armories, granaries, labs for new-human research—the works. Elite troops patrolled, SSS-rank experts hid in reserve. The Yangs' defenses were so complete infiltration seemed impossible. In the apocalypse, this kind of legacy was a country inside a city.
Tang Xiangui greeted the visiting elder with a forced smile. The Li family's envoy had come for the Yang–Tang wedding. Old Master Li strode in, then a youth followed—Li Yunqi, sharp-featured and composed. Word had reached Tang Xiangui: the young Li had awakened an SSS-rank magic talent, [Carp Transforms into Dragon], and ranked sixth on the capital's Combat Power list. Tang Xiangui's smile grew thin; envy and calculation flickered behind it.
Soon after, the Zhang family arrived. The elder in gold brocade brought a ring of formidable young men—showy, dangerous. Old Master Zhang boomed greetings, and Li Yunqi, eyes cool, asked a name that made the hall go still: "Is there a Zhang Yinbai here?"
The name carried weight. Zhang Yinbai—fourth on the Capital Combat Power list—was a legend: adopted into the Zhang family as a godson and treated like true blood. A middle-aged man shuffled forward, rough around the edges, unremarkable—then Li Yunqi tested him with a light blue energy strike to the head.
Zhang Yinbai did not fall. Half his face was ripped open, then, in the next breath, the wound knit itself shut as if nothing had happened. He smiled, unbothered. "Kids are naughty," he said. "If I retaliated, someone would die."
Tang Xiangui swallowed. The top families had brought their best—guests who were both splendor and warning. The capital's power structure was a knife; the wedding would be a show of force, and every family in the room kept score.
—
Chen Xiao's car sliced across the plains. He thought about pillars—how a base survives is not just muscle but people who can hold ground when leaders are away. Pig Spirit, Swan Dream, Gate of the Spirit Realm—talents were tools; he wanted a foundation.
In the capital's reception hall, Li Yunqi's reputation was quiet and dangerous. The whispered title [Carp Transforms into Dragon] promised a talent that could change the flow of fate. Tang Xiangui plastered on courtesy while clenching his jaw. Old Master Yang crowed in private triumph: he'd used the Pearl of Death, carved a lane for his family, and now flattered the right allies. Yang Kai, the intended groom, strutted through the crowd, eager and leering—exactly the kind of man Tang Shirou had rejected.
Tang Shirou stood distant on the observation dais, a pale figure amid the pomp. In her chest was the kind of resignation that war and family can breed. Below, the capital hummed with the sort of dangerous civility that only the richest and most ruthless could afford.
—
Back on the road, Chen Xiao's mind was sharp as a blade. The capital was a fortress, but fortunes changed faster than a heartbeat in this world. A talented ally, a surprise ability, a broke line in an enemy's formation—these were all levers. He'd already seen how one decisive swing could turn a city's faith into a weapon; he'd felt the Pearl of Death's light sear the sky. He'd turned it aside once, but now the stakes were higher—Tang Shirou's wedding was days away and a thousand powerful eyes would be watching the capital's streets.
He would go. Alone if he had to. Build if he could. Fight if he must. And if the Yangs thought they owned the capital, Chen Xiao intended to remind them they did not own everything.
As his car disappeared into the night, the reception hall inside the Yang fortress continued its measured performances—bows, jokes, promises—while unspoken calculations circled like vultures. In the end, power won through hunger and patience. The top families had both. Chen Xiao had other tools: surprise, talent, and the stubborn conviction that those he protected would not be handed over to tyrants.
Outside, the plain opened to his headlights. He pressed the accelerator and the world rushed by—roads, lights, and a future that he would drag, kicking and roaring, into shape.