Inside Xiao Mei’s company, Noah Steele watched the time on his phone tick steadily toward 9:00 a.m.
Each second felt deliberate. Inevitable.
“Ten… nine… eight…”
His lips curved slightly.
“Two… one. It begins.”
A cold gleam flashed in Noah’s eyes.
Three corporations—no, two now. Wang Jianguo had already been absorbed, folded neatly into his plans. That left only the remaining two.
Are you ready? he thought calmly.
The invitation from death has been delivered.
His fingers descended onto the keyboard.
Commands poured out in rapid succession, precise and merciless. The sharp clatter of keys filled the room—heavy, rhythmic, relentless. It sounded less like typing and more like a war drum, echoing across an ancient battlefield.
To those who understood, the sound meant only one thing:
