Shanghai. Marvel Industries HQ.
The building didn't scrape the sky.
It pierced it.
A blade of mirrored steel towering above the city, its logo—an angular M carved in obsidian—catching the light like it owned the sun.
Inside, everything moved like clockwork.
Black suits. Silver badges. Perfect hair.
Drones buzzed silently down the hallways, delivering documents no human would dare mishandle. Screens flickered with numbers that changed faster than breath.
Everywhere, whispers spread like static.
Li Tian Marvel is coming home.
At 11:02 AM, the private jet touched down.
Not early. Not late. Exact.
Tian stepped off first.
Red sunglasses. Black suit. No tie. A single gold ring on his thumb, glinting like a warning.
Paparazzi waited behind a roped-off section, screaming his name.
Flashes exploded.
He lit a cigarette right on the tarmac and didn't bother to look at them.
"Where's my car?" he asked, exhaling.
A black Maybach glided forward, door already open. Inside, Mr. Zhi sat stone-faced, as always.
"Welcome back to China, Mr. Marvel," he said.
Tian slid in, still smoking.
The Marvel Estate was a study in contradictions—ancient stone walls covered in modern glass, koi ponds next to biometric gates. A place trying to honor tradition while strangling it with power.
Inside, Tian found him.
Li Feng. The King.
Still upright. Still dressed in perfectly pressed white.
But thinner. Paler. His eyes looked like they'd seen things he couldn't afford to say aloud.
The room was silent as Tian approached.
No hug. No handshake.
Just the weight of empire pressing down between them.
Li Feng spoke first.
"It's time you learn to build what you one day must rule."
Tian scoffed, slow and deliberate. "What if I don't want your throne?"
"You don't get to choose," the old man replied.
Tian took off his sunglasses and looked him in the eyes.
"Neither did you."
The koi pond rippled outside. Red fish, darting beneath glassy water, circling endlessly.
Tian stared into it, watching his reflection fracture and reform. A crownless prince. A ghost in his own legacy.
Inside, Mr. Zhi reappeared, holding a small black box.
"Your official company ID," he said.
Tian opened it.
Marvel Industries. Strategic Cultural Liaison.
He laughed. A loud, genuine bark that echoed through the silence.
"So I'm your corporate mascot now?"
No one answered.
He put the badge in his pocket without looking at it.
"Fine," Tian muttered. "Let's see how long the circus lasts."