Two weeks had passed since the Titans launched their missile, the one that nearly decimated a portion of the Blake family’s territory with its nuclear payload. The world was still reeling from the attack, but what nobody expected was Austin Blake’s response—or rather, his lack of one.The Blake family didn’t retaliate. There were no bombings, no threats of war, no immediate bloodshed. Instead, Austin did something most would call foolish: he played the long game. He opened up the family’s resources to the public, to the victims of the missile attack. People who had lost their homes, their livelihoods, or even their lives in the blast zone, were given compensation. Not just monetary handouts, but real support. Rebuilding efforts, aid, housing, and medical help were dispatched swiftly and with precision. It was the kind of response no one expected from the powerful mafia leader. It was the kind of response that made the public start to look at Austin Blake in a different light.And

The training room reeked of sweat and determination. Austin stretched his neck, the crack of his joints echoing off the walls. His muscles ached, but it was the kind of pain he thrived on—proof of progress. The cultivation had been grueling, but the surge of energy coursing through him told him it was worth every second. Fifth stage, and he could feel the power clawing to the surface. The world felt smaller somehow, almost laughably insignificant, and he liked it that way.He grabbed a towel, wiped his face, and made his way upstairs. The staff had already prepared his meal, the aroma wafting through the sprawling estate. Austin ate in silence, his mind already shifting gears to the day ahead. The food was a formality; the real fuel was the power he’d accumulated in that room.The meeting with the refinery delegates was quick and efficient, just the way Austin liked things. He didn’t care much for pleasantries, and neither did they. They presented numbers, discussed strategies for e

Austin sat at the head of the long, polished table in a chamber beneath the Blake family estate. The room was filled with power. Each person here represented influence—political, financial, or physical. Together, they were the Shadow Council, a rising force meant to challenge the Big Five.Senator Hayes leaned back in his chair, watching the discussion with the sharp eyes of a predator. King Tade, silent and brooding, radiated a quiet authority from his end of the table. Shanks, ever the cynic, tapped his fingers against the wood, his expression skeptical.Austin stood, his calm gaze sweeping across them. “We have made progress. The Moroni convoy was just the start. The Big Five are vulnerable, but we must move carefully. One wrong step, and this council could fall apart.”Shanks snorted. “Careful? That’s not exactly a winning strategy, Blake. The Big Five didn’t get to the top by playing nice.”“They also didn’t get there by underestimating their opponents,” Austin countered smoothly

Evans stood on the balcony overlooking the grand ballroom. The chandeliers cast a warm glow over the sea of attendees, all dressed to the nines, sipping expensive champagne, and pretending they cared about charity. He hated every single one of them. “Smile, boss,” Paul said from behind him, handing him a fresh drink. “The cameras are watching.” Evans turned, forcing his lips into a tight grin. His face felt like it would crack. “They’re watching, alright,” he muttered, downing the whiskey in one swig. “But this isn’t for them. This is for the board.” Paul smirked. “The upper echelons breathing down your neck again?” “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Evans said, his voice low. He leaned on the railing, his knuckles white against the dark wood. “They think I’ve lost control. Think I’m reckless. But they were all there when we greenlit the missile, weren’t they?” Paul nodded. “Hypocrites, the lot of them. But this? This charity stunt will smooth things over.” Evans scoffed. “If on

The icy wind howled through the mountains as Austin stood by the edge of the cliff, his breath visible in the cold air. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he adjusted his scarf. Lady Katerina stood beside him, her expression as sharp as the wind slicing through the trees below. Her pale face was unreadable, but her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. “Winter’s an appropriate time for this kind of work, don’t you think?” she said, her voice low, almost conversational. Austin smirked, the cold doing little to temper his resolve. “Appropriate. Efficient. The snow hides all sorts of things.” She chuckled, the sound humorless. “Let’s make this quick. The bastard’s not worth dragging it out.” Ahead of them, the isolated cabin loomed like a shadow against the frosted trees. Inside was their target—a seventh-stage cultivator who had refused Austin’s generous invitation to join the Blake family’s fold. His arrogance had sealed his fate. ---The cabin door burst open with a thund