CHAPTER 31 — The Fog of London
London felt like a graveyard of empires.
The rain here wasn't like Shanghai's neon drizzle; it was heavy, gray, and smelled of soot. Li Zheng Yuan and Gu Wei Chen arrived at a private airfield in Farnborough, met not by police, but by a fleet of vintage Rolls Royces.
"The European Syndicates call themselves 'The Council,'" Gu Wei Chen remarked, checking the chamber of his weapon as the car sped toward Mayfair. "They think because their money is four hundred years old, it's untouchable."
Li Zheng Yuan watched the Thames crawl by. "Old money is just stagnant blood, Wei Chen. It's slow. It's arrogant. It's ripe for the taking."
They checked into a townhouse that didn't exist on any public registry. Inside, Sofia Rossi was already waiting, her face pale, her eyes tired. She had crossed the line, and there was no going back.
"The Council knows you're here," Sofia said, dropping a decrypted tablet on the table. "They've activated 'The Bishop'—their most elite fixer. He doesn't use hackers or armies. He uses accidents."
Li Zheng Yuan leaned over the tablet. A photo of a man in a priest's collar appeared. No name. Just a shadow.
"An accident?" Zheng Yuan whispered, his reflection in the window looking back at him with a predatory gleam. "I am the accident they never saw coming."
CHAPTER 32 — The Bishop's Move
The first strike happened at a high-society gala at the British Museum.
Li Zheng Yuan was supposed to be the guest of honor, a billionaire philanthropist looking to donate to the arts. He stood under the shadow of the Rosetta Stone, a glass of champagne in his hand.
Don't drink it, the Voice hissed. It was louder now, more visceral. The bubbles are wrong.
Zheng Yuan paused, the glass an inch from his lips. He poured the liquid into a nearby potted fern. Within seconds, the plant began to wilt, its leaves turning a sickly black.
Across the room, a man in a black suit with a white collar tilted his head. The Bishop. He didn't flee. He smiled.
Suddenly, the fire alarms screamed. The crowd panicked, a sea of silk and tuxedos rushing for the exits. In the chaos, Gu Wei Chen was separated, blocked by a falling security gate.
The Bishop moved through the crowd like a ghost, a thin garrote wire glinting in his hand. He stepped behind Li Zheng Yuan, the wire snapping taut.
"Old money sends its regards, CEO Li," the Bishop whispered.
Zheng Yuan didn't struggle. He leaned back into the wire, his eyes rolling back as the "Shadow" took full command. He didn't feel pain. He felt... hunger.
"You're late for confession," Zheng Yuan rasped.
With a sudden, violent twist, Zheng Yuan grabbed the Bishop's head and slammed it backward into the stone display of an Egyptian sarcophagus. The glass shattered.
CHAPTER 33 — The Unholy Alliance
Gu Wei Chen kicked through the service door, his gun drawn, but he stopped dead.
Li Zheng Yuan was standing over the unconscious Bishop. His knuckles were bleeding, his tie was ripped, and his eyes... they weren't human. They were twin abysses of pure, focused malice.
"Zheng Yuan?" Wei Chen called out, his voice cautious for the first time.
The CEO turned slowly. For a second, Wei Chen saw a stranger. Then, the shutter fell. The cold, corporate mask slid back into place.
"He's alive," Zheng Yuan said, his voice returning to its calm, melodic hum. "We need him. He knows the locations of the Council's offshore vaults."
They dragged the Bishop to a safehouse in the East End, a place where the screams would be drowned out by the whistles of the trains.
Sofia Rossi watched from the corner, horrified but mesmerized. She saw Li Zheng Yuan sit across from the tied-up assassin, not with a weapon, but with a ledger.
"I'm not going to kill you, Bishop," Zheng Yuan said, leaning in. "I'm going to buy you. I'll give you ten times what the Council pays you, and in return, you'll give me their heads on a silver platter."
The Bishop spat blood on Zheng Yuan's shoes. "They are the foundations of the world. You are just a flicker of light from the East."
Zheng Yuan smiled, a chillingly beautiful expression. "Then watch how quickly a flicker can start a fire."
He turned to Gu Wei Chen. "Wei Chen, call Chen Rui in Shanghai. Tell him to start the 'Blackout Protocol' on the London Stock Exchange. If they won't let us in the front door, we'll burn the house down and buy the ashes."
The conquest of Europe had begun. Not with a handshake, but with a stranglehold.