A deathly silence hung over the hall.
The nobles, warriors, and elders—all frozen.
Their gazes flickered between Ochieng and the crumpled warrior on the ground.
Blood seeped into the cracks of the marble floor, a crimson stain on the elegance of the banquet hall.
Zhao Tianlong's fingers dug into the armrest of his chair.
His rage was visible, yet he did not lash out.
Not yet.
Instead, he locked eyes with Ochieng and uttered, "What do you want?"
His voice was low, controlled—but beneath it, there was something else.
Something he did not want to acknowledge.
Fear.
--
Ochieng leaned against the long dining table, picking up a fruit with casual ease.
He twirled it between his fingers before taking a slow bite.
CRUNCH.
The sound was almost deafening in the silent hall.
Then, wiping the juice from his lips, he finally answered.
"What do I want?"
He smiled.
A smile that sent chills down the spines of everyone present.
"Tell me, Zhao Tianlong…"
"How does it feel? Knowing that the name you tried to erase is now the one standing above you?"
Zhao Tianlong's pupils shrank.
The elders stirred.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
One noble gulped.
"This… this can't be. He was cast away! How could he have…"
An elder's voice trembled.
"He was just a failure… A child without talent…"
"Then why… why is he standing there like an emperor?!"
Ochieng's laughter was soft.
But it echoed.
"A failure?" He mused.
He glanced around the room, his golden eyes sweeping across the faces of those who once mocked him.
Those who once sneered at him.
Those who once cast him away like garbage.
"You all made a mistake."
His voice was no longer soft.
It was final. Absolute.
"And now… you will pay for it."
--
The air turned suffocating.
A few warriors instinctively reached for their weapons—only to find that their hands wouldn't move.
Panic spread.
"What… what is this pressure?!"
One warrior collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.
A noble's wine glass shattered in his grip.
Zhao Tianlong clenched his fists.
He had lived decades.
He had faced countless enemies.
Yet, never before had he felt such an overwhelming force press down upon him.
A presence that demanded submission.
A presence that told him—
This man is beyond you.
But how?
How could the child they abandoned—
The boy they deemed worthless—
How could he have become this?
---
Ochieng's golden gaze finally returned to Zhao Tianlong.
He stepped forward.
Slow. Deliberate.
Until he was mere inches away from the patriarch.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said—
"You once told me… that my name was a curse."
Zhao Tianlong's breath hitched.
The words.
They were the same words he had spoken to a child long ago.
A child who had knelt before him, begging for acknowledgment.
Begging for love.
And he had looked down at him and uttered—
"You are a disgrace. Your name is a curse. Forget it."
And yet now—
That same name carried a weight he could not bear.
Ochieng tilted his head slightly.
His voice was calm. Cold.
"Do you still believe that, Zhao Tianlong?"
The patriarch's lips trembled.
But he said nothing.
Ochieng smirked.
Then, he turned around.
And with slow, measured steps—
He walked away.
But just as he reached the doors of the banquet hall, he paused.
Without looking back, he said—
"This was merely a greeting."
The elders stiffened.
The warriors held their breath.
Ochieng's voice turned chilling.
"The real reckoning… begins soon."
Then, with a flick of his sleeve—
BOOM.
The banquet hall doors swung open violently.
The wind howled through the chamber.
And just like that—
He was gone.
Leaving behind only a shattered silence.
And a family that finally realized—
They had provoked something they could never control.
---