Jiang City, nightfall. Neon lights from towering skyscrapers intertwined into a sea of brilliance, with endless noise lurking beneath the prosperity. The streets bustled with traffic, pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks, and the air carried the faint scent of gasoline mixed with the aroma of night market delicacies. A worn-out taxi struggled through the congestion, its engine letting out a hoarse roar before finally pulling over by the roadside. The door opened, and a young man stepped out.
He wore a faded T-shirt and jeans, with a tattered backpack slung over his shoulder. His appearance was unremarkable—sharp yet understated features. However, his deep eyes held an unfathomable storm, carrying an icy chill that sent shivers down one's spine. His name was Lin Feng. Three years ago, he was the young master of Jiang City's Lin Corporation, standing atop this city's pinnacle. Now, he was back.
Lifting his gaze, he saw the Tianhuang Pavilion Hotel—the most luxurious five-star hotel in Jiang City, an exclusive club reserved for the elite. The majestic stone lions flanking the entrance stood imposingly, while the gilded signboard shimmered under the lights. Lin Feng took a deep breath and strode toward the entrance. His return was so low-key that no one noticed, but he knew this city would soon tremble because of him.
"Sir, this is a members-only hotel. Do you have a reservation?" The doorman frowned, scrutinizing him with a hint of disdain. A poorly dressed young man seemed completely out of place in the lavish setting of Tianhuang Pavilion. Several wealthy guests stepping out of luxury cars cast curious glances, whispering, "Where did this country bumpkin come from?"
Lin Feng ignored the murmurs, smiling faintly as he casually pulled a black card from his pocket and handed it over. "Will this do?" His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.
The doorman took the card and turned pale instantly. His hands trembled, almost dropping it. This was the Supreme Black Card of Tianhuang Pavilion! Globally limited to just ten, its holders were either ultra-wealthy or of supreme status—even Jiang City's richest tycoon, Li Tianhao, was unqualified to own one. The doorman swallowed hard, his legs going weak as his voice quivered. "S-Sir, please come in! I didn't recognize greatness before me, please forgive my rudeness!"
"It's fine." Lin Feng waved dismissively and stepped inside, his gait composed, yet his presence carried an invisible pressure. The doorman wiped cold sweat from his forehead, watching Lin Feng disappear into the lobby, heart pounding. "Who is this man?"
Inside, the Tianhuang Pavilion lobby radiated opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast dazzling light, and the plush carpet muffled footsteps into near silence. Lin Feng settled into a quiet corner, ordered a cup of coffee, and scanned the crowd of elites. Dressed in lavish attire, they chatted and laughed, but he knew many among them had once betrayed the Lin family when they fell three years ago. Sipping his coffee, its bitterness spread across his tongue as he sneered inwardly: "Laugh while you can—you won't be laughing for long."
Three years ago, internal strife within the Lin family saw him framed by his uncle, Lin Zhengxiong, who colluded with external enemies. Overnight, he lost everything. His parents perished, the family empire was carved up, and he was forced into exile overseas. In those three years, he clawed his way from a street beggar to the undefeated king of underground fight clubs, eventually rising to lead the enigmatic organization "Nightblade." His power and wealth now stood unrivaled. Today, he had returned, fueled by an unquenchable fury, to settle old scores.
A waitress served his coffee, whispering, "Sir, the lobby is crowded tonight. Please be careful." Lin Feng nodded slightly, but his gaze inadvertently landed on the center of the hall. A familiar figure appeared—Zhao Tianlong, the second son of Zhao Corporation, and his long-time rival. Three years ago, Zhao Tianlong had seized the chance when the Lin family fell, stealing away his fiancée, Liu Wan'er. Now, he was one of Jiang City's most prominent socialites.
Dressed in a designer suit, Zhao Tianlong lounged with an alluring woman draped over him, boasting, "This bottle of wine costs five hundred thousand! Most people won't taste something this exquisite in their lifetime!" Laughter and flattery echoed around him, with someone exclaiming, "Second Young Master Zhao is truly extravagant!"
His gaze swept across the hall and quickly locked onto Lin Feng in the corner. He froze momentarily before bursting into laughter. "Well, if it isn't that worthless Lin family brat! Heard you were kicked out three years ago and now live worse than a stray dog. How dare you show your face here?"
The atmosphere shifted instantly. All eyes turned to Lin Feng. Some chuckled, others jeered, while Liu Wan'er covered her mouth, giggling mockingly. "Lin Feng, don't blame me for being heartless. You were useless! With Tianlong, I now live a life of luxury."
Lin Feng set down his coffee cup and slowly stood up, his eyes flashing with cold light. He said indifferently, "Zhao Tianlong, Liu Wan'er, the debts from three years ago—we'll settle them soon."
His voice was not loud, but the lively hall momentarily hushed.
"Settle accounts? You?" Zhao Tianlong sneered and waved for his bodyguards. "Throw him out! Don't let him taint Tianhuang Pavilion with his presence!" Four guards charged at Lin Feng, but he barely moved—his fists and feet lashed out like lightning, and within seconds, all four men were writhing on the floor, groaning in pain.
Lin Feng dusted off his hands and locked eyes with Zhao Tianlong. "Save your energy. You'll need it—things are about to get very difficult for you." With that, he turned and walked toward the elevator, leaving behind a stunned silence. Zhao Tianlong's face contorted with rage as he clenched his fists. "Lin Feng, you just wait!"
As the elevator doors closed, Lin Feng leaned against the wall, a faint smirk forming on his lips. This was just the beginning. Zhao Tianlong's humiliation tonight was merely the first stepping stone on his path to revenge.