The gold-plated elevators of the Mu Group were designed to filter out the "unworthy." They required biometric scans, executive keycards, and a certain aura of wealth that Han Feng had lacked for three years. Usually, they didn't stop for trash.
But tonight, the electronics didn't have a choice. As Han Feng approached the sensors, the air around him rippled with a distorted, violet-gold static. The scanners didn't just read his presence; they whimpered. The heavy glass doors hissed open, not because they recognized him, but because the machinery was terrified of what he had become.
Han Feng stepped out onto the penthouse floor.
One hour ago, he was a broken man with shattered ribs and a face pressed into the gutter. He was a memory—a "cockroach" to be stepped on and forgotten. Now, his skin hummed with a violent, golden heat that turned the lingering rainwater on his suit into thin, wispy veils of steam.
His eyes were no longer the dull, defeated brown of a servant. They were molten gold, burning with an internal light that made the hallway security cameras glitch and die the moment his gaze passed over them.
He didn't run. He walked with a heavy, deliberate pace, his footsteps thudding against the plush carpet like the heartbeat of a giant. He reached the double doors of the boardroom—the same room where his life had been dismantled only sixty minutes prior.
Inside, the celebration was in full swing.
The clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, jazz-inflected lounge music filtered through the wood. He could hear the laughter—shrill, arrogant, and mocking. Young Master Zhao's voice boomed above the rest, recounting the "hilarious" way Han Feng's ribs had snapped under his boot.
Han Feng placed his hands on the doors. He didn't turn the handles. He simply pushed.
The heavy mahogany doors didn't just open; they groaned, the hinges straining under a pressure they weren't built to sustain.
The laughter died instantly.
The boardroom was filled with the elite of the Azure Capital. Ten of the city's top female executives and board members sat around the long obsidian table, draped in silks and diamonds. At the head of the table sat Mu Rong. Young Master Zhao had his arm draped possessively over the back of her chair, his hand sliding low on her hip, his fingers playing with the hem of her skirt.
"You?" Mu Rong stood up so quickly her chair nearly toppled. Her face, usually a mask of glacial perfection, twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. "I told security to dump you in the landfill. How did you get back in here? Guards! Security!"
Han Feng didn't answer. He didn't need to. He took one step into the room, and the temperature seemed to rise by twenty degrees.
[SYSTEM COMMAND: ACTIVATE AURA — OVERWHELMING LUST.]
[COST: 50 AROUSAL XP.]
It wasn't a smell, and it wasn't a sound. It was a physical weight—a thick, predatory wave of Qi that flooded the room like a dam breaking. The air transformed, becoming heavy and sweet, like honey spiked with musk.
The reaction was instantaneous.
The female board members, women who prided themselves on their iron-willed professionalism, gasped in unison. A high-ranking CFO dropped her wine glass. It shattered on the marble, red wine splattering like blood, but she didn't even look down. Her face flushed a deep, feverish red. Her breathing became jagged, her chest heaving as the aura bypassed her brain and spoke directly to her biology.
Across the table, a veteran executive gripped the edge of her seat so hard her knuckles turned white, her eyes glazing over as she stared at Han Feng's chest. She felt a phantom heat spreading through her veins, a primal urge that made her want to tear off her tailored suit and crawl toward him.
"What... what did you do?" Mu Rong stammered.
The "Ice Queen" was melting. Her legs shook, her knees knocking together beneath her skirt. She felt a sudden, violent throb of heat between her thighs that made her want to scream and beg at the same time. The "Pure Qi" she had worked so hard to cultivate was being turned against her, boiling in her own meridians.
Young Master Zhao, however, was oblivious to the subtle shifts in the air. His "Yang" energy was too crude, too arrogant to sense the trap. He snarled, his face contorting with the need to re-establish his dominance.
"You persistent rat! I'll finish you this time! I'll tear your tongue out and feed it to the dogs!"
Zhao lunged across the table, his fist glowing with a bright, golden Qi—the power he had stolen from the Han family scrolls. To the others, he was a blur of lethal motion. To Han Feng, he was moving through molasses.
Han Feng didn't even shift his feet. As Zhao's fist neared his face, Han Feng reached out with a hand that glowed with a violet-gold hue. He caught Zhao's wrist mid-air.
Crunch.
The sound of snapping bone was like a dry branch breaking in the woods. Zhao's scream was short and sharp as he dropped to his knees, his wrist bent at an impossible angle. Han Feng didn't let go. He leaned in, his molten eyes boring into Zhao's skull, seeing the terror finally beginning to take root in the "prodigy's" soul.
"You talk too much for a battery," Han Feng whispered.
Mu Rong, driven by a desperate, panicked instinct to survive, saw her chance. She pulled a concealed jade dagger from a strap on her thigh and swung it at Han Feng's temple. "Die, you monster!"
Han Feng caught her wrist an inch from his eye without even looking at her. His grip was a steel vice, cold and absolute. He yanked her forward, pulling her flush against his chest. He could feel her heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped, terrified bird.
"Look at you," Han Feng growled into her ear, his voice a low vibration that seemed to bypass her ears and resonate in her very bones. "The great CEO Mu Rong. The Goddess of the Azure Capital. You're trembling so hard you can't even hold a knife. Is this what a 'cockroach' feels like?"
Mu Rong's eyes were wide, the pupils blown so large the blue of her irises was barely a ring. She was flooded with a mix of soul-crushing terror and a skyrocketing desire she had no weapons to fight. Her knees finally gave out. She slid down his body, her silk dress bunching up as she collapsed onto the carpet at his feet, in front of the very board of directors she had ruled with an iron fist.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: DOMINANCE ESTABLISHED.]
[TARGET: MU RONG — WILLPOWER COMPROMISED.]
[CORRUPTION LEVEL: 5%... 7%... 10%...]
[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: 'ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY' (LEVEL 1).]
Han Feng looked down at the fallen CEO, the golden glow in his eyes pulsing with every heavy beat of his heart. The room was deathly silent, save for the ragged, heavy breathing of the women around the table. The executives who had once mocked his "trash" status now looked on in a stunned, heavy trance, their bodies betraying their minds.
"Lock the doors," Han Feng commanded.
He didn't speak to anyone in particular, but the System responded to his will. The electronic locks on the boardroom doors engaged with a heavy, pneumatic thud, sealing the room from the outside world. The lights dimmed, leaving only the predatory glow of Han Feng's aura to illuminate the space.
Han Feng leaned down, his shadow looming over the shivering Mu Rong. He reached out and gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
"Now," he whispered, his voice echoing with a supernatural resonance that made the crystal glasses on the table vibrate. "We are going to discuss the true meaning of 'Purity.' And this time, you're going to pay for every word."
The "Ghost" had returned. And for the women of the Mu Group, the night was only just beginning.