Eliza remained impassive. She rose gracefully, smoothed her skirt, and took a seat on the adjacent chair with natural elegance.
Chloe offered an apologetic glance. At Fyren's nod, she withdrew.
Xena sauntered over. "Who would've thought, Fyren? You've become quite the coveted prize."
Fyren frowned. "Barging into Houde Group's CEO office like that - have you forgotten you're the vice president? Must you always be so ill-mannered?"
"Look who's talking about manners!" Xena shot Eliza a sidelong glance. "What's this? Some sort of mating dance?"
Fyren flushed. "That's uncalled for. Mating dance?"
Eliza crossed her legs. "I'm courting Fyren. Got a problem with that, Xena?"
Xena's lips curled. "The whole of Crystalpeak knows the Lengs annulled your engagement. Doesn't this seem rather... beneath you?"
"How archaic." Eliza's laugh tinkled like broken glass. "Pursuing a man diminishes my worth? Since when do I care about petty gossip?"
Xena closed the distance, looping her arm through Fyren's. "He's already taken. Ravished me in his car - Uncle and Aunt Zhang witnessed everything!"
Fyren's face turned ashen. "Ravished? That's—! I was just teaching you a lesson!"
Eliza's smile didn't reach her eyes. "A man like mine should turn heads. Sampling street food occasionally means nothing. I'm his five-course meal."
Xena's nails dug into Fyren's arm. "Street food? More like a bankrupt's last resort! When you're flipping pancakes for scraps, we'll stop by out of pity!"
"Enough!" Fyren wedged himself between them.
Xena's voice turned venomous. "I get you saved her life, Fyren, but must you keep groveling at her feet?"
Fyren stammered, "I'm not—"
Eliza traced Fyren's jawline. "You know my feelings. Have your fun, but not with her. She's... unsanitary."
"That's not—" Fyren began.
Xena hissed, "Your parents approved our match. Keep this up and I'll make every family dinner a living hell!"
"Since when—?"
Eliza purred, "I'll move in tonight. Twin flames, male and female - we complete each other, don't we?"
"STOP!" Fyren's shout echoed off the marble walls.
Inside, his soul screamed:
[Is there anyone more wretched than me? Anyone?!]
[Who could possibly—]
The Helmsman's iron mask gleamed dully in the throne room's gloom.
The Tactician materialized from shadows. "My liege."
"Hmm." The masked figure's obsidian eyes gleamed. "My cultivation advances. You've managed the organization well."
"The vision was always yours, Lord Helmsman. Crystalpeak Chapter thrives by your design."
A mirthless chuckle echoed beneath the mask. "The Upper Quadportal nears. You shall all be rewarded."
"Thank you, Helmsman."
"How is the Young Lord faring?"
"Not well."
Humph. The Helmsman's mask emitted a metallic sneer. "Some borderland military exploits inflated his ego to stratospheric heights. The boy remains wet behind the ears."
"Indeed. Compared to your strategic brilliance, Helmsman, the Young Lord appears... unseasoned."
The Helmsman's gauntlet shattered the throne armrest. "His incompetence cost us a hundred billion! Our coffers bleed dry - next month's payroll hangs in the balance, debts pile like corpses! This is intolerable!"
The Tactician bowed. "The Young Lord aims to consolidate Crystalpeak's Four Great Houses. Each possesses assets exceeding a hundred billion. Consider this initial investment... strategic patronage. The long game favors us."
"Hmph. The whelp tosses around 'fifty billion' like pocket change - as casually as begging for five hundred dollars."
"The Central Lodge mandates full support: manpower, resources, funds. We but follow orders. Neither headquarters nor the Young Lord would disregard your contributions."
"I comprehend the politics. Enough. Has the Copper King arrived?"
"The very matter I wished to report."
"Proceed."
"He's defected to Fyren."
CRACK. The Helmsman's boot heel splintered marble. "What?"
The Tactician's hood trembled. "No intermediaries, no negotiations. Immediate allegiance. They've severed all ties and now conspire openly with Fyren."
The Helmsman's voice dropped to a sawtooth whisper. "Fools. Does that gilded bastard promise safety? Have they forgotten our oath?"
"Worse tidings follow."
The iron mask tilted. "Don't tell me—"
"Your foresight cuts true. The Copper King completed a five-billion transfer. Four installments: 1.49 billion to Fyren's Dasheng Group private account; the remainder divided among three newly established shells. Embezzlement seems likely."
A roar shook the chamber.
The throne's remaining armrest exploded into shrapnel. "I'll flay them alive! Traitorous swine!"
"Compose yourself, Helmsman. One final matter requires judgment."
"Now what?!"
"The Young Lord demands another five billion. Urgently."
Iron met stone as the Helmsman ripped off his mask, revealing a face twisted like battlefield wreckage. "You think this a fucking game?!" Spittle flecked the Tactician's robes. "A billion? Two? Manageable. But fifty? Then another fifty? Another? Not even the Central Bank's mint could sustain this profligate!"
"Helmsman, please maintain your decorum and authority!"
"Authority? Damn it all!" The Helmsman abandoned all dignity, tears streaming down his face. "I gave him my life's savings, and not only did he turn the Iron King against me, but he let fifty billion slip into Fyren's pockets!"
"I scraped together every last coin, even considered pawning my underwear, to raise that fifty billion! And it all went straight to Fyren!"
"Now he demands another fifty billion? No! Not a single cent! Let him solve his own problems. If he's so bold, let him beg from his high-and-mighty superiors! I'm cleaned out!"
The Tactician interjected quickly: "Helmsman, we've already invested one billion. Backing out now would mean losing everything."
"What choice do I have!?" The Helmsman leapt up, screaming. "Even if I starve myself, I can't produce fifty billion! Should I sell my own ass!?"
The Tactician rubbed his chin. "That's... an option, though time might be—"
"Go to hell! Can't you recognize sarcasm when you hear it?"
The Tactician raised his hands. "Helmsman, please compose yourself!"
Shaking with rage, the Helmsman commanded: "Find him! Find Otto! Get my hundred billion back!"
"Helmsman! Don't!" the Tactician warned.
"Why the hell not!?"
"That hundred billion never passed through the Young Lord's hands! Our own people delivered it to Fyren. Both the Copper King and Iron King attempted to harm the Young Lord. If this feud becomes public, we'll bear the blame. The higher-ups will hold us responsible... Your position as Helmsman might be forfeit."
The Helmsman collapsed into his chair. "Then... what do we do? Where can I possibly find more money to give him?"
After a pause, the Tactician suggested: "We could liquidate assets."
"What?"
"We have no choice but to gamble. If the Young Lord gets this fifty billion, the returns could reach five hundred billion - or even five trillion. We'll recover all losses. My estimates show selling all domestic and overseas assets could yield about three billion in cash."
"That still leaves us ten billion short!"
"We'll need high-interest loans."
"I—"
The Helmsman nearly vomited.
"I, the noble Helmsman of the Mighty Syndicate's Crystalpeak branch, reduced to borrowing from loan sharks?"
"Have the Red and Black Departments take on more contracts—small margins but high volume. Sell everything we can and send the funds to the Young Lord immediately."
"My... my life's work! My empire!"
"Helmsman! The time for decisions is now! If the Central Lodge learns about two consecutive betrayals resulting in massive embezzlement... We'll be branded incompetent fools! The consequences..."
The Helmsman paled with fear.
His face turned ashen as he slumped on the throne, staring blankly into space before slowly raising his head. "Proceed as you suggested. Keep this quiet."
At that moment, the doors swung open, revealing a tall, handsome young man.
The youth strode in with confident steps, a self-assured smile playing on his lips as he dropped to one knee. "Silver King reporting! The missions assigned by the Helmsman and Tactician have been completed ahead of schedule!"
The Helmsman sprang up excitedly, rushing down the steps to help him rise. "Silver! You've returned!"
"Helmsman... your mask?"
"Never mind the mask! The Copper King has betrayed us too! And he handed my fortune to another man!"
Silver King's face darkened instantly. "He dared?!"
The Helmsman gripped Silver King's arm like a brother. "Your elder brother hasn't returned yet. This matter falls to you. I'll scrape together more funds. You must find the Young Lord. And bring me the Copper King and Iron King alive - make them return every cent!"
Silver King trembled with rage. "Worry not, Helmsman! My men will extract your money even if we have to break their bones and drain their blood!"
"Excellent! You're truly our most reliable! These two idiots are driving me mad. I'm utterly furious with them!"
"Hahaha!" Silver King's laughter boomed. "Set your heart at ease, Helmsman. With me handling this, we'll reverse our fortunes and have the final say!"
"Then I entrust this to you, brother!"
"Helmsman!"
"Brother!"
"Helmsman!"...
Fyren studied the Copper King, the fat man, and the skinny one before him.
"Enjoy yourselves last night?"
Copper King answered eagerly. "Magnificent! Four ladies and a dozen bottles of premium liquor. We blew through over two hundred grand in one night."
Fyren smiled. "Good. Those who spend know how to earn."
"Yes, my lord."
"From today, you'll go into seclusion. Report all needs to Chloe. No unauthorized movements. I'm preparing a major operation for you. Succeed, and the rewards will be substantial."
"My deepest gratitude for your guidance, young lord!"
"Remember - from this moment, you're mine. No contact with the Branch whatsoever. If I discover..."
"The Branch is worthless!" Copper King declared instantly. "That Helmsman isn't fit to polish your boots!"
Fyren nodded in satisfaction.
As he exited, Fyren pressed a hand to his chest.
His heart felt leaden.
What now? If this leaks... I'm a dead man, aren't I?