In the penthouse suite of The Yurei Group's headquarters — a towering monolith of black glass and quiet menace — Milo Varn stared at a painting that wasn't really a painting.
It looked like abstract chaos.
But to those who knew?
It was a map.
A celestial formation painted in blood and gold, charting the coordinates of the Hidden Veins of Power — ley lines, qi rivers, and forgotten burial realms that even ancient cultivators feared to name.
Milo touched the corner with one gloved hand.
The wall hummed.
"He's moving," came a voice from the shadows behind him.
A woman stepped out — Soraya, head of Yurei's occult intelligence wing. Long silver hair. Pierced eyes. And a scent like crushed lotus and ash.
"Danton reported?" Milo asked.
"No. That's why I'm concerned."
Milo's jaw flexed.
Chess Golding had always been an anomaly. But Milo had underestimated how much of the old world was buried beneath that man's skin.
"You ever hear of the Celestial Fang Sect, Soraya?" he asked.
She stiffened. "My grandmother mentioned it. Thought it was a legend."
"It was. Until I dined with one of them in Fei'jin."
Soraya blinked. "You met one?"
"He didn't eat," Milo said with a thin smile. "Only watched me. Eyes like frozen stars. And a voice that didn't echo in air — it echoed in memory."
He turned to her, eyes gleaming.
"That's who Chess Golding belongs to."
In a warehouse on the city's edge, a group of corporate mercenaries were running a recon drill.
The drill ended early.
Because someone had broken all 12 of their drone cameras… without triggering a single alarm.
At the center of the floor, their captain found a strange symbol carved into the concrete.
A circle split by a single claw mark.
The mark of the Celestial Fang.
Back in the Jefferson estate, Elsa sat with Clarissa, going through a list of cybersecurity firms.
"We're being watched," Elsa said simply. "Whoever sent that envelope isn't just playing games — they're testing for weakness."
Clarissa nodded. "Then let's make them think we've got one."
Elsa smiled. A spark in her eyes.
Across town, Milo descended into his private archives — an underground vault lined with relics, talismans, and forbidden books.
He stopped in front of one.
Wrapped in dragonskin. Locked in six iron rings.
The Book of Withered Names.
He placed his hand on the cover, whispering an old phrase.
The lock pulsed.
Pages turned.
And there — in ink that writhed like smoke — was a name.
Chess Golding
Bloodline: UnknownAffiliation: Celestial Fang Sect (Heir Level)Threat Index: Unquantified
Milo laughed, low and dark.
"So… the heir walks among us," he murmured.
Then his eyes gleamed.
"Let's wake the old ones."
Somewhere far beyond the city, in a monastery carved into the bones of a dead mountain, a gong echoed once.
A man in red robes stirred from meditation.
His eyes were sealed shut — sewn shut.
But he smiled.
"So… the boy breathes again."