The meeting at Celestial Phoenix Hotel had set the underworld ablaze. In just one night, Ochieng had solidified his position among the Eight Province Leaders, shaking the very foundation of China's most powerful hidden forces.
But power came with a price.
And tonight, someone was willing to collect.
---
The streets of Shanghai's Financial District pulsed with late-night energy. Luxury cars cruised past, neon lights reflecting on their polished surfaces. Inside Heaven's Crown Nightclub, a place reserved for the upper echelon, Ochieng sat in a private booth.
Across from him, Hua Mei, a stunning woman with jade-like skin and piercing eyes, sipped on an ice-cold Louis XIII Cognac.
"So, the rumors are true. The boy from nowhere has become the man everyone fears."
Ochieng didn't respond, merely watching as the ice in his whiskey glass melted.
Hua Mei leaned closer, her delicate fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "You know what happens when someone rises too quickly, don't you?"
Ochieng finally spoke, his voice deep and calm. "They either become a legend or a target."
Hua Mei smirked. "And which do you think you are?"
He set his glass down. "Both."
Just then, the door to the private lounge slammed open.
A man in a tailored silver suit strode in—Liang Shen, the second son of the Dragon Society's Grand Elder.
Behind him, six men in black suits flanked the doorway, their hands resting on the hilts of hidden weapons.
The entire club seemed to hold its breath.
"Ochieng." Liang's voice carried the weight of arrogance and warning. "You humiliated my brother last night. Did you think there wouldn't be consequences?"
Ochieng didn't move. His fingers tapped lazily against the wooden table. "Your brother lost because he was weak. That's not my problem."
Liang's face darkened. "Arrogant bastard."
With a flick of his wrist, his men stepped forward—
But before they could even draw their weapons, a blur of motion sliced through the air.
A dagger whizzed past, embedding itself into the wall mere inches from Liang's throat.
Silence.
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward—Lucas, Ochieng's right-hand man, twirling another dagger between his fingers.
"The next one won't miss."
Ochieng finally stood, adjusting his suit. "Tell your father if he wants revenge, he should come himself. Otherwise, don't waste my time."
Liang clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. But he knew better.
Tonight, he had lost.
And Ochieng had sent a message—one the entire underworld would remember.
The Silent Trillionaire had arrived.