Location: Scarlet Pavilion, Western Heights
The invitation was hand-delivered.
Not emailed.
Not messaged.
A folded card sealed with deep red wax, bearing only a symbol — an orchid dripping ink.
Xu Shanyue's personal seal.
"Attendance is not optional," the note inside read.
"Dress well. Smile better."
Lin Feng arrived fashionably late.
Of course.
The Scarlet Pavilion towered over the western district like an ancestral ghost — all curved wood, mirrored glass, and blood-colored lanterns.
As he stepped through the entry archway, the system chimed:
"Caution: Host entering zone with elevated hostility index.
Suggested aura: Understated dominance + subtle menace + tailored suit."
He straightened his collar.
"Done."
Inside the Banquet
It wasn't a party.
It was a lineup of power — family heads, next-generation heirs, business titans, and political whisperers. The top table curved like a crescent blade, with Xu Shanyue seated at the tip, clad in crimson silk that flowed like liquid threat.
A seat at her right remained empty.
Until Lin Feng walked in.
A ripple passed through the room — hushed, resentful, wary.
"That's him?"
"The outsider who's making Zixuan bleed?"
"Why did Shanyue bring him here?"
He ignored it all and took his seat without a word.
Shanyue didn't greet him immediately.
She raised her glass instead.
"To silence," she said.
"The most underestimated tactic in war."
Everyone drank.
Lin sipped water.
"To silence," he echoed, smiling faintly.
"And to those who make others speak for them… out of fear."
A few coughs. A few stares.
One smirk from Shanyue.
The game had begun.
Mid-Banquet – Strategic Probing
First came Gu Wenshao, second son of the Gu banking house.
"Lin Feng," he said, tilting his wine.
"Word is, you acquired half of Luo's logistics wing in under a week.
Tell me — is that real skill… or just luck?"
Lin didn't look at him.
"If it was luck, Luo Zixuan's face wouldn't be so red tonight."
Polite laughter — edged and dangerous.
Then Miss Qin Yue, media heiress.
"Some say you buy your way forward with pretty girls and gift receipts.
Care to respond?"
Lin looked at her, calm.
"Some say a journalist's job is to find truth.
Others just repeat what losers whisper after losing."
This time, a few jaws tightened.
Xu Shanyue finally spoke again.
"Enough teasing."
She turned to Lin.
"Let me ask the real question."
"Go ahead."
"You're already wealthier than most of them. You don't crave status.
So why are you still in this game?"
Lin leaned back in his chair.
His answer was simple:
"Because every time I win… someone who thought they were untouchable gets reminded they're not."
Silence.
Then a slow clap — from the leftmost table, where a figure stood.
Someone no one expected to appear:
Luo Zixuan.
He walked forward in a tailored black jacket, flanked by two Crimson Circle enforcers.
"Lin Feng," he said smoothly.
"If you're so fond of reminders... let's give the city a new one."
He placed a single file folder on the banquet table. It landed with a thud.
"The auction of the century. One property. Three factions.
Winner takes control of the South Pearl Port — and with it, full access to overseas import control."
He looked around.
"Three bidders have been chosen.
Guess who the third one is?"
Lin Feng opened the folder.
Saw the terms.
And smiled.
"Well," he said, glancing at Shanyue,
"hope your wine budget is ready to cry."