Fyren flew into a panic, slapping Otto's chest. "Brother! Hey, what's wrong? Don't scare me! Stay with me, brother!"
Fumbling for his phone, he dialed frantically. "Funeral home? Yeah, my brother... he's passed. Last night our master beat him up, and today he got so mad... He's not dead yet, but he's dying. Any minute now."
"Why the questions? Everyone's like this these days. Should I call a hospital? You know what? Do your job! Wait, you said you can't cremate him if he's not dead? Is that standard?"
"I don't care about your policies! I want him buried ASAP! Name your price—anything to get him in that furnace!"
"You're insane! Idiot!"
Fyren turned to Otto. "Thanks, bro. Looks like we need to hold off. They said no cremation till you're actually dead."
Otto rolled his eyes and passed out from sheer rage.
Chloe gasped. "Will he be okay?"
Fyren snorted. "He's the chosen one. Probably not." He stormed out, face stern. "Let's move. Silver King's on his way."
As Fyren reached the elevator, Iron King intercepted him. "Fyren!"
"Seen Silver King?"
"In the elevator—coming up now."
"Time to act. You know the drill."
"Leave it to me."
Fyren waited by the elevator, Chloe fidgeting at his side. He squeezed her hand. "Relax. Do as we practiced last night."
"Okay."
The doors slid open. Silver King froze at the sight of Fyren. He and his assistant had studied the files, but were certain Fyren didn't recognize them.
Chloe spoke up: "Young Lord, Fyren's been overdoing the act lately."
Fyren smiled thinly. "Teleportation magic drained my power. Gotta lie low for a bit."
"Understood."
They stepped into the elevator, finding Silver King and his assistant rooted like statues. The pair's minds raced:
Title: Young Lord
Key info: Fyren is acting.
Critical detail: Teleportation magic.
These clues overlapped, making Silver King's heart pound.
Fyren addressed him: "Not getting out?"
"Uh, heading down."
"Qianfeng employee?"
Silver King started, then recovered. "Just joined. Haven't officially started."
Fyren offered his hand. "Fyren."
"Fyren?"
"Yep."
Chloe interjected: "Young Lord—"
Fyren shot her a sharp glare (not lost on Silver King). She corrected herself: "Fyren. Silver should be here by now. Maybe he's already linked up with... you know who."
Fyren smiled. "Let's hope."
"Are you truly abandoning them?"
Fyren's tone turned steely. "After what happened with Copper King and Iron King, do you think I'd trust them again?"
"But they say Silver King is highly capable."
Fyren scoffed. "A bunch of muscle-bound fools who can't even dress properly in suits. How could they operate under my supervision? They're nothing but pawns in the grand scheme."
"Understood."
Beep!
The elevator doors slid open. Fyren stepped out, Chloe trailing close behind. Inside the elevator, Silver King and his assistant stood frozen, minds reeling from the flood of information.
It was obvious now... the one in the elevator just now was the Young Lord! He'd used teleportation magic with Fyren, then posed as a disciple. So Fyren was the impostor?
The assistant was on the brink of tears. "Brother! What do we do? It looks like we made the same mistake!"
Silver King's entire body broke out in a cold sweat. He ground his teeth. "No wonder Copper and Iron messed up so badly! This isn't just a blunder—Fyren has perfected his act. Not just them, maybe even the Helmsman couldn't see through it!"
"Brother! So what's the plan? From the Young Lord's tone, it seems he's sacrificing us!" The assistant's voice trembled. "But we have fifty billion in our hands! Is he really letting that go?"
Silver King raised his head, his mind reeling. "Upstairs, they're discussing projects worth hundreds of billions, totaling over a trillion. Fifty billion is pocket change to the Young Lord. He's using our fifty billion to lull Fyren. If he wants to swallow Qianfeng whole, he'll gain far more than just a hundred billion in assets."
The assistant was near hysteria. "Then we're doomed! Just like Copper and Iron? The Branch won't take us, and the Young Lord will kill us!"
"No! It's not over!" Silver King snapped. "Shut up!"
He pressed his palm against the elevator's glass mirror, staring at his sweat-drenched reflection. "There's still a way to turn this around! We haven't transferred the funds yet... Fyren hasn't succeeded, and the Young Lord is still in control."
"Brother..." The assistant finally broke down. "I don't want to be a traitor. I've dealt with traitors before—it's painful."
"Steady, brother." Silver King grabbed the back of the assistant's head, pressing their foreheads together. "We can still make amends. The Young Lord is angry with the Branch, with Copper and Iron. He's never met us—this is about protecting the bigger picture. If we play our part and pledge loyalty, we can salvage this."
"Really, brother?"
"Have I ever lied to you?"
The assistant shook his head.
"Stick to my plan. Let's go after the Young Lord."
Silver King and his assistant crept to the first-floor lobby, spotting Fyren in the far corner. One hand in his pocket, he was holding a phone and gazing through the glass window at the street, as if lost in thought.
The pair inched closer, ducking behind a tall potted plant to eavesdrop.
Fyren's voice carried:
"Just follow the script. No need for extra moves. Once we take down Qianfeng, you'll be set. All the chaos upstairs—everyone's scrambling, but no one knows the real mastermind is watching the street from the first floor. Haha, trust me."
"Everything I do succeeds. He won't get rewarded or punished. I'll deal with him later. And Crystalpeak's Branch? It's obsolete. Once I stabilize things, I'll dismantle it and put a new team in charge."
"I don't care about their so-called talent. I'm sick of those fools! Without them meddling, the Young Lord's plans would've been done ages ago. No excuse—dragging things out like this, the Branch has outlived its use. That's final."
Silver King and his assistant exchanged a look, then steeled themselves. "Let's move."
They hurried toward Fyren and dropped to their knees. "Young Lord! We pay our respects!"
Fyren turned, eyes narrowing. "In the elevator—you're not from Qianfeng. Who are you?"
"Young Lord, I'm Silver King, here to pledge allegiance!"
"Young Lord, I'm his assistant, here to serve you!"
Fyren waved them up impatiently. "Get up—kneeling draws attention."
"Yes, my mistake."
Fyren settled on a sofa, crossing his legs, hands resting casually on the armrests as he eyed them coldly. "How'd you figure it out?"
Silver King replied promptly: "Upon arriving in Crystalpeak, I investigated Fyren and the Young Lord. That Otto lacks vision—no great man's mettle. But you, Young Lord—though you look like Fyren, your stride is powerful, your presence imposing, your spirit boundless—you have a hero's bearing..."
"Spare me the flattery. Get to the point."
"Right!" Silver King adjusted. "So I pretended to join the fake Young Lord's camp, infiltrating to gather intel for you."
"Cut the crap. If you messed up, just admit it."
Silver King flushed. "Your teleportation technique is too masterful—impossible to see through. Luckily, fate guided me to recognize you in the elevator." His voice cracked: "Young Lord! For my loyalty, my sincere repentance, please don't abandon me and my brother!"
Fyren inspected his nails. "What good are you to me? Here's an idea: join those two imbeciles, Copper King and Iron King, and become Fyren's lackey."
Silver King dropped to his knees again, weeping. "Young Lord, I beg you for a chance to atone! Your mercy will be etched in my heart forever. From this day forth, I'll obey your every command, bear any hardship, even face death—"
"Get up, you fool! People are watching!" Fyren snapped, feigning irritation.
Just then, Chloe approached, feigning surprise. "Ot... Fyren, the situation upstairs is wrapping up."
Fyren frowned. "This is Silver King."
"Ah? Him?" Chloe chuckled. "He's better than those previous idiots—at least he dresses properly."
"Dammit, always causing trouble at critical moments," Fyren grumbled.
Chloe pressed on: "Young Lord, for the greater good, we must address the situation upstairs first." She shot a meaningful glance, which Silver King and his assistant eagerly intercepted.
The pair promptly vowed: "We brothers swear to serve your cause, no complaints, no regrets!"
Fyren rubbed his nose. "Fine, you can stay for now. But listen well: if you dare sabotage my plans, I'll flay you alive and strip your tendons!"
"We dare not, Young Lord," Silver King groveled. "I'll handle Copper and Iron myself—leave it to me."
"Fuck, since when are two ants too tough to crush?" Fyren scoffed. "In great undertakings, such pests are nothing."
"Understood, Young Lord."
Just then, upstairs, Eliza and Hakan's negotiation reached a breaking point.