Money was undoubtedly important.
However, for the elites in the martial arts world, money was but a fleeting commodity—something that flowed effortlessly into their hands. For them, wealth didn't require hard work. It came to them almost as a matter of course, with wealthy families offering tribute like it was second nature.
The White Dragon King was one of those elites.
Each year, the Swift family gave him large sums of money, treating him almost like a living deity, a gesture of veneration that was far more than mere homage.
This arrangement was not just out of respect—it was out of necessity. The White Dragon King, as a venerable martial artist, had the power to ensure that powerful families like the Swift family continued to thrive.
A heaven master was no longer enough in Houston. You needed someone like the White Dragon King to truly stand above the rest.
At this very moment, in a sprawling manor, Alger led Laura through the grounds toward the White Dragon King's residence.
They had been walking for over forty minutes, their steps echoing on the well-maintained path. To show respect, neither of them dared to drive through the massive gates. They walked on foot, acknowledging the vastness and significance of their visit.
It wasn't that Alger was overly cautious—he knew full well that the Swift family's rise to power had been built on the backs of their ancestors. But as time passed and generations shifted, that power could easily slip away without the right kind of protection.
The White Dragon King had become that protection, and Alger couldn't afford to take him lightly.
After a long walk, they reached the mansion where the White Dragon King resided.
He listened to Laura's account of the situation with mild amusement, then sneered.
"A monk, you say?"
A monk might wield Taoist powers, and early on, they could be formidable—perhaps even stronger than a typical martial artist. But once a martial artist reached the venerable realm, their power far exceeded that of any monk. Especially a monk in his twenties.
The White Dragon King scoffed.
"A mere boy, in his twenties? Do you really think I, a venerable master, would waste my time with such a thing?" He looked at Alger with disdain. "You're asking me to deal with a monk? A monk, Alger?"
His tone was icy, like the very idea of taking action against someone like John was beneath him.
The White Dragon King had no need to prove his strength. He had no shortage of wealthy families begging for his support, each offering more money than he could ever spend. But he had his principles.
The Swift family had already exhausted one of their three chances. When they had initially approached him for help, he had agreed under one condition: after three uses of his power, the alliance would be dissolved. No exceptions.
Alger froze, realizing the gravity of the situation.
One chance had already been used, and now there were only two left. If those were spent, and Alger didn't find another benefactor, the Swift family would likely fall into decline.
As Alger hesitated, Laura leaned into him, a soft, coquettish smile on her lips as she rubbed against his arm. Her voice was sweet, almost pleading. "Honey, I really can't stand this any longer."
The effect was instant. Alger's resolve solidified, and he straightened. "White Dragon King," he said firmly, "I'm sure. Please, kill that monk."
It was clear that Alger had a deep affection for Laura. He was eager to do whatever it took to please her, even if it meant sacrificing the family's precious remaining chances with the White Dragon King.
The White Dragon King sneered, clearly unimpressed. "It's sad, really, that the Swift family has come to this, under your leadership."
His words were harsh, but Alger didn't dare to respond. There was no refuting the truth in them. His father had warned him not to marry Laura, seeing her only as a pretty face, someone unworthy of a place in the Swift family.
But Alger had married her anyway, and since his father's death, he had acted without restraint, even going so far as to demand a divorce from his first wife just to be with Laura.
The White Dragon King's voice cut through his thoughts. "Your family's future is no longer my concern. I've helped you twice now, and I'll help you once more. But this is the last time."
He didn't care for Alger's internal struggles. After all, his own pride was at stake.
With a dismissive wave, he sent Alger and Laura away.
Once they were gone, The White Dragon King called for his disciple, Bill.
"Go to New York, kill this monk. He's no more than a pest. But don't trouble me with it—I have no time for such trivial matters."
Bill, a heaven master in his own right, bowed respectfully before taking his leave. The White Dragon King knew that sending Bill to handle such a lowly task would be more than enough.
Meanwhile, back in New York, on the set where Anita was filming, John was lost in the moment. He sat there, mesmerized by the graceful movements of Anita, who had just finished a scene. She sat beside him, chatting and laughing, radiating charm as always.
She had yet another scene to shoot, and so, she kept the cheongsam on, its silk fabric shimmering under the studio lights. As she sat next to John, the view of her crossed legs in the delicate outfit made it hard for him to concentrate. The sight was simply too captivating.
Before he could lose himself further in the moment, a new presence interrupted his thoughts. A pair of long, well-toned legs stopped directly in front of him, casting a shadow over his distracted gaze.