Skyview Manor was a masterpiece of isolation.
Perched on the granite shoulder of Iron Cloud Mountain, it was a fortress of glass and steel, overlooking the city like a silent, brooding god. The air here was thin, cold, and crisp, carrying a density of Reiki that was at least 20% higher than in the smoggy city below.
Lin Hao stood in the massive, unfurnished living room. The floor to ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of City U, a glittering carpet of lights twenty miles away.
He owned this.
But as he looked around the echoing, dusty cavern of a room, the practical reality set in.
He was a [Level 7] cultivator. He could kill a tiger with a finger. But he didn't know how to fix the industrial HVAC system that was rattling in the basement. He didn't want to spend his cultivation time scrubbing toilets, ordering furniture, or arguing with power companies about the grid connection.
He needed a staff. But he couldn't hire a cleaning crew or a contractor himself. "Lin Hao, the Student" had no money. "The Masked Expert" couldn't show his face.
He needed a buffer. A proxy. A "face" that could navigate the mortal world with billions of dollars, while he remained in the shadows.
He needed someone loyal. Someone who hated the establishment. Someone who would jump off a cliff if he asked.
He pulled out his phone. He scrolled to a contact he hadn't called since the library incident.
Fatty Zhang
It was 2:00 AM.
He dialed.
Ring... Ring... Click.
"Boss?" Fatty's voice was groggy, sleep-thick, but instant. "You okay? Are the dogs back?"
"I'm fine, Fatty," Lin Hao said, his voice calm. "You said something to me on the library steps. You said, 'To the death.' Did you mean it?"
There was a pause. The rustle of bedsheets. Then, Fatty's voice returned, completely awake, stripped of all sleepiness.
"I meant it."
"Good," Lin Hao said. "Quit your life. Right now. Pack a bag. Don't tell your parents where you're going. Meet me at the south campus gate in twenty minutes."
"Done."
Click.
Twenty minutes later, Lin Hao's black sedan idled at the curb. Fatty Zhang was there, shivering in the night air, a large hiking backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked nervous, glancing around for BSA patrols, but when the car pulled up, he hopped in without hesitation.
"Where are we going, Boss? Are we running? Did the Chen family put a hit on you?"
"No," Lin Hao said, pulling onto the highway. "We're going to work."
He drove. He didn't speak. He let the silence and the changing landscape do the talking.
They left the city lights behind. They climbed the winding, dark roads of the foothills. The cell service bars on the dashboard dropped one by one. The trees grew taller, darker, pressing in on the road.
Fatty watched the world fall away, his eyes widening. "Boss... we're way out in the boonies. Is this... a hideout?"
"Something like that."
Lin Hao turned onto the private access road. They approached the massive, twelve-foot steel gates of Skyview Manor.
Fatty gasped. "Holy... who lives here? A Bond villain?"
Lin Hao punched the code. The gates groaned open.
He drove up the long, winding driveway, parking in front of the brutalist, concrete and glass mansion. It loomed over them, dark and silent against the stars.
They got out. The wind whipped Fatty's jacket.
"Okay," Fatty whispered, looking at the mansion, then at Lin Hao. "I'm confused. You're a student. You have a 'trash' manual. How...?"
"Fatty," Lin Hao said, leaning against the car. "You were right. I am just a student. I don't have the resources to fight people like Chen Long."
He paused, letting the lie settle.
"But... the person who gave me that manual? The one who helped me Awaken?"
Fatty's eyes went wide. "The... the guy? The Masked Guy? The one who killed the tiger?"
"He's real," Lin Hao said. "And he has... accepted me. As a disciple."
Fatty looked like he was going to faint. He was standing next to the disciple of a god.
"This," Lin Hao gestured to the manor, "is His estate. He values privacy above all else. He doesn't exist on paper. He doesn't speak to mortals."
Lin Hao walked to the trunk of the car. He popped it open.
Inside sat a sleek, metal briefcase.
He handed it to Fatty.
"Open it."
Fatty, his hands trembling, unlatched the case.
He stared.
It was filled, tightly packed, with stacks of used, non-sequential hundred-dollar bills. Five hundred thousand dollars in cash.
"This is petty cash," Lin Hao said calmly.
"Petty...?" Fatty squeaked.
"My Master needs a manager," Lin Hao explained. "He needs someone to run this place. To hire the cleaners, the cooks, the contractors. To buy the furniture. To pay the bills. To deal with the world so he doesn't have to."
Lin Hao stepped closer, his voice dropping, becoming deadly serious.
"But he can't be seen. So, I can't be the one doing it. If I start spending millions, the BSA will ask questions. They'll find him."
He pointed at Fatty.
"But you... you're nobody. No offense."
"None taken!" Fatty said, hugging the briefcase.
"You are now 'Mr. Zhang,'" Lin Hao said. "You are the property manager for an anonymous, reclusive billionaire investor who lives overseas. That is the story. You hire people. You fire people. You sign the checks."
"And the most important rule," Lin Hao said, his eyes locking onto Fatty's. "You never, ever come into the West Wing without permission. You never ask who is in there. You never ask where the money comes from."
"You will live here. You will be safe here. And you will be very, very rich."
Lin Hao held out his hand.
"Can you be the face, Fatty? Can you lie to the world for us?"
Fatty Zhang looked at the mansion. He looked at the cash. He looked at Lin Hao, the guy who had saved his life, who was now offering him a key to the kingdom.
He snapped the briefcase shut. He stood up straighter, his goofy demeanor vanishing, replaced by a surprising, bulldog-like determination.
"Mr. Zhang," Fatty said, testing the name. He nodded. "I like it."
He shook Lin Hao's hand.
"I'm in, Boss. The West Wing doesn't exist. And the billionaire is a eccentric old guy named... uh... Mr. X."
Lin Hao smiled.
"Perfect. Now, let's go inside. It's freezing, and we have a lot of work to do."