Inside the deepest chamber of the Nine Scorpion Cave, the air pulsed with heat and pressure. A faint green glow radiated from Jack Sullivan’s body as he sat cross-legged, bare-chested, surrounded by the crushed remains of venomous scorpion cores. His breathing was slow, deliberate, and deep.For the last three days, Jack hadn’t moved. Not even once.The Scorpion Essence, distilled from the Emperor Scorpion’s body and the most potent venom sacs, now coursed through his veins. It burned, reshaped, and empowered.His skin glistened with sweat, but under it, something more terrifying was forming.Scorpion strength…His fingers twitched, now strong enough to crack steel with a flick. His back was lined with corded muscle, but it wasn’t brute strength alone—it was a precision power, venomous and fast.If I’d had this power during the Robert fight, Jack thought, I could’ve shattered his defenses in one strike. He wouldn’t have walked away.His chest rose slowly.This changes everything.Outs

Inside the Shaw family estate, the atmosphere was quieter than usual.Charlotte Shaw sat stiffly on the antique leather chair, fingers laced tightly in her lap. Across from her, Richard Shaw poured himself a cup of tea, moving with deliberate grace.“You’ll apologize,” he said calmly.Charlotte’s brows furrowed. “I already said I regret what happened.”Richard looked at her over the rim of his cup. “Regret is not apology.”“I just…” she hesitated, then admitted, “I don’t want you to be the one to do it.”He set the cup down with a soft clink. “Then you shouldn’t have needed me to.”The silence between them was heavy, but not cruel.“I will personally represent the Shaw family at the Harvest Festival in Eastridge City,” he continued. “Our presence is expected. Our humility is required.”Charlotte looked away. Her pride bruised, her voice small.“I never thought it would come to this.”Richard leaned back. “That’s because you never thought he was more than a shadow. Now you know better.

Jason Martinez, now drenched in wine and pride, straightened his coat and took a slow, threatening step forward."You think this is funny?" he hissed. "You dare to humiliate the son of Keith Rodriguez? Do you even understand who you're dealing with?"Jack Sullivan remained seated, legs crossed, one arm lazily resting on the back of his chair. His other hand slowly reached for the wine bottle on the table—a rare, imported vintage worth more than most people's monthly salaries.Another entitled brat who thinks his father's name is a shield. They never learn.He didn't say a word.Jason's voice rose. "I came here with courtesy. With a proposal. And you choose violence? Disrespect?"Courtesy? Is that what he calls barging into my home, making demands like I owe him something?Jack stood up, wine bottle in hand. His eyes were calm, utterly unbothered."Respect," Jack repeated softly. "You want that?"Jason sneered. "You'd better show it, before you regret—"They always threaten. Always pos