The grand hall stood still, yet the air was charged with something undeniable. A shift. A storm that had been lurking beneath the surface.
Ochieng cracked his neck, stepping forward. His stance was relaxed, yet the sharpness in his eyes held the promise of something terrifying.
Aiden Xu, usually the untouchable prodigy, had just defended instead of attacked.
Lucien Zhao, the king of the underworld's eight provinces, finally spoke. His voice was velvet and iron.
"Aiden. Finish this."
But Aiden…
Didn't move.
He wasn't smiling anymore. The moment he clashed with Ochieng, something had unsettled him.
Raw power.
Not just speed. Not just skill. But something deeper.
Ochieng's strikes had no hesitation. Like a man who had already decided the outcome of this fight.
And that? That made Aiden hesitate for the first time.
But hesitation was fatal.
Ochieng lunged.
Aiden barely blocked the first strike, but—
The second? The third?
Too late.
A sickening crack echoed through the hall as Ochieng's fist drove into Aiden's ribs, launching him backward.
Aiden crashed against the marble pillars, cratering the stone.
Lucien Zhao's fingers tightened on his armrest.
This shouldn't be happening.
Not to Aiden.
Not to his ace.
The silence was deafening.
Then—
Aiden coughed blood.
It splattered onto the polished floors.
Gasps rippled through the elites watching from the shadows.
Ochieng had just done the impossible.
He had drawn first real blood.
Aiden Xu, the devil of the Zhao Syndicate, was on his knees.
And Ochieng?
He stood untouched.