"Hi, I got you!"
The parvenu vulgarian flinched at John's booming voice. Spinning around, his eyes widened in horror.
In a flash, he threw several bills on the counter and shouted, "Keep the change!"
Then he bolted—leaving the two women dangling on his arms behind like abandoned luggage.
"Think you can run away?" John sneered.
He had finally cornered this slippery bastard. No way he was letting him escape now. Without hesitation, he gave chase.
But just as he darted out of the restaurant, someone stepped directly into his path—a Taoist priest. The old man smiled serenely and said, "John, fate brings us together again, as expected…"
"Cut the crap!" John snapped. "Where's the gold chain and the watch? And whose robes are those, huh?"
Gone was the awe John once held for this man. All that reverence had crumbled to dust.
Fraud.
Everything about him is fake.
"You old bastard—you've been raking in cash selling my paintings, haven't you?"
The so-called priest, now exposed, was none other than Perry Moreno—John's own master. The enigmatic old devil who'd fooled him more times than he could count.
Perry shook his head, still wearing that innocent expression. "John, I have no idea what you're talking about. Don't misunderstand me."
"I'm not here to argue." John grabbed Perry's wrist. "You're coming with me."
"John, easy there! No need to be rough—"
"Oh, now you're talking about being gentle?" John cut him off coldly.
He dragged the old man into a nearby tavern, practically throwing him into a seat before taking the spot across from him like an interrogator confronting a criminal.
"Start talking. Now."
Perry hunched his shoulders, looking pitiful. "Alright, alright. I'll tell you... I actually hid the gold chain—"
"You know damn well that's not what I'm asking!"
There were too many unanswered questions:
The fire at the welfare home.
The truth about his seven sisters.
The Nameless Divine Skill.
The mystery of Circle Mountain.
Everything—layers of secrets stacked one on top of another.
Even though he now knew Warren had set the most recent fire, what about the first one?
John remembered Alexandra telling him that when he was still an infant, a Taoist priest had rescued him and taken him to the welfare home. That priest had to be connected to Perry. It was too convenient.
And what about Queenie?
Her parents claimed she had died—yet Ben Clare had taken her away when she was just a child. That had to be part of the same game.
He didn't know the backstories of the other sisters yet, but it was obvious now. The pattern was clear.
All of them had been brought together before John was even born.
This had been a setup.
And Perry Moreno… he was one of the puppet masters behind it.
"Let's start with my sisters," John said grimly. "Why were we all gathered at the welfare house?"
"Hmm…" Perry squinted, clearly scrambling for a dodge.
"You don't want to talk?"
John's mouth curled into a thin smile as he waved over the tavern owner. "Hey! Bring some wine!"
"What kind of wine?" the owner asked.
"The strongest you've got."
"You got it!"
Soon, the tavern keeper returned with a hefty clay jar. The moment he popped the lid, a rich, intoxicating aroma filled the room.
This was no ordinary wine—it was a local treasure, aged and potent. It smelled expensive.
Perry's nose twitched. His eyes widened. His lips parted just a little. But he didn't reach for the cup.
He knew John was baiting him.
John poured a bowl full, his tone unusually soft. "Master, despite all your scams, you did raise me. You trained me. And I know you don't really mean me harm. So... think of this wine as a token of gratitude."
Back at the Taoist temple, John had discovered Perry's fatal weakness.
The old man couldn't resist good wine. He'd fall for a drink quicker than a monk for enlightenment.
"Thank you," Perry murmured, his eyes fixed on the bowl like a starving dog. "But I gave up drinking a long time ago."
"You sure?" John said slyly. "What a pity…"
He turned back to the owner. "Can I return this jar?"
"Return?" The owner looked insulted. "You must be kidding. This wine is our finest—our most prized brew. I only brought it out because you flashed that black card from the Commerce of City. Once opened, the fragrance disperses. It can't be re-corked."
"What a waste," John said with a sigh. "Guess I'll just pay and pour it out then."
"Don't!" Perry shot up and snatched the jar with both hands, glaring at the tavern keeper. "How can you even think of pouring this out? This is mine!"
"But I thought you quit drinking."
"Can't a man taste it with chopsticks?"
Perry dipped a chopstick into the bowl and savored the drop on his tongue.
Then he did it again.
And again.
And again.
Ten minutes later, he was clutching the bowl in both hands and gulping it down like water.
"John… you really do know me," he slurred. "Such a kind child..."