The Beggar in the Lobby Was the Supreme King

Chapter 003

In the murky landscape of Ambershire, the Wilson family was a name that inspired a particular kind of dread, despite their status as a mere third-tier clan. They didn't deal in technology or real estate; their empire was built on the "gray" industries—luxury massage parlors, underground casinos, and high-end leisure clubs. To maintain their grip on the West District, they kept a small army of brutal street fighters. In that part of the city, the mere mention of the Wilson family was enough to turn a conversation cold.

Ethan Smith arrived at the gated entrance of the Wilson Villa accompanied by two of his most elite Guards of Supreme. The air was thick with the scent of rain and blooming jasmine, a sharp contrast to the violence about to unfold. One of the guards stepped forward, his voice amplified by an internal strength that made the very windows of the villa rattle.

"Matthew Wilson! Oliver Wilson! Crawl out here and beg for mercy!" the guard roared. "If you do not, the Wilson family ends tonight, and every single one of your businesses will be reduced to ash!"

The heavy oak doors of the luxury estate swung open, and more than twenty men spilled out onto the manicured lawn. At their center stood Matthew Wilson, the patriarch, and beside him, a man with a distinct, limping gait—Oliver Wilson.

"You've got a lot of nerve, kid," Oliver Wilson spat, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Ethan. "Threatening the Wilsons in our own home is a death sentence. You're a dead man walking."

Ethan looked at the limping man, a cold, predatory smile playing on his lips. "Oliver, don't you recognize me? Fifteen years ago, a five-year-old boy escaped your clutches. I told you then that I would come back to claim your pathetic life."

Recognition finally dawned on Oliver’s face. His eyes widened, and he instinctively clutched his right leg. Fifteen years ago, that escape had cost him dearly; his masters had broken his leg as punishment for his incompetence. "You... the brat? This leg is a daily reminder of the failure you caused. Today, I'm going to settle that debt with interest."

Matthew Wilson stepped forward, unimpressed. He gestured to a patch of open ground near the rose bushes. "In this world, boy, your mouth needs to be backed by something more than words. Since you’ve come here to die, I’ve already prepared your accommodations."

A group of ten workers emerged from the side of the villa, carrying shovels and pickaxes. Under Matthew’s cold direction, they began to dig. In less than ten minutes, three deep, rectangular pits had been carved into the earth.

"Throw them in," Matthew Wilson commanded, his voice devoid of emotion.

Twenty professional bodyguards, men seasoned in street brawls and debt collection, surged toward Ethan. They never even reached him. The two Guards of Supreme moved like ghosts, their silhouettes blurring in the dim light. They drew their sub-and-mother blades, and the air was suddenly filled with the sound of whistling steel and the metallic tang of blood.

The screams that followed were guttural and absolute. Within seconds, the twenty "elite" guards were on the ground, their severed limbs littering the lawn. They weren't dead—Ethan wanted them to feel the weight of their choices—but they would never hold a weapon again.

Oliver and Matthew stood frozen, their faces drained of color. This wasn't a fight; it was an execution. They were looking at a level of martial prowess that shouldn't exist in a place like Ambershire.

In the silence that followed, Ethan’s phone vibrated. It was a message from Catherine Jones. The Moonlight Club and the Starry Club—the crown jewels of the Wilson empire—had been raided and dismantled. More importantly, the secret underground chambers holding abducted children had been discovered, and the media was already descending like vultures.

Just then, Matthew’s phone rang. He answered with a trembling hand. "What is it?"

"Dad! It's over!" his son’s voice screamed through the speaker. "The Moonlight Club is gone! Some demons took out the entire security force in minutes. The police and the press are everywhere... they found the 'inventory' in the basement. The kids are being released!"

Matthew’s knees buckled. Before he could process the loss, his other line rang. It was the manager of the Starry Club, sobbing. "Chairman, it's a bloodbath here. The club is a wreck, and parents are arriving on-site to claim their children. The Eagleeye Department is moving in!"

Matthew Wilson felt as though he had aged a decade in a single heartbeat. He clutched his chest, a spray of crimson blood erupting from his mouth as his heart failed to cope with the shock. The Wilson family was dead. Even if the law didn't kill them, the shadowy figures they worked for certainly would.

"I did that," Ethan said, stepping over a groaning guard. "Tell me, Matthew, is this 'talent' enough for you?"

Matthew collapsed onto the grass, his eyes vacant. "You don't understand... you've ruined the plans of someone far more powerful than a third-tier family. You’ll pay for this. Your whole family will burn."

Ethan’s eyes flared with an ancient, icy fire. "Then I’ll find them too. Catherine, kill the butler. Take the Chairman to the holding cell. I want to know who is 'above' them."

"Please!" Oliver Wilson suddenly dropped to his knees, his forehead hitting the dirt. "I was just following orders! It was Matthew! I have $10 million in an offshore account—it's yours! Just let me live!"

Ten million dollars? To the Supreme King, who controlled the trillions of the Hall of Supreme, it was less than pocket change. Ethan didn't even look back as the guard’s blade ended Oliver’s pleas mid-sentence.

While the Wilson Villa fell, a police cruiser screeched to a halt at the Azure Villa—Iris Smith’s private residence. A woman in a crisp uniform burst inside, bypassing security with a master key. She didn't knock; she ran straight for the master suite.

She grabbed the sleeping Iris by the shoulders and shook her violently. "Iris! Wake up! There's been a m******e downtown! Did you have something to do with this?"

This was Bree Smith, the fourth sister and the Deputy Governor of Ambershire’s police force. She was a woman of iron discipline, often called the "Modern-Day Mulan" for her fierce dedication to the law.

Iris groaned, her mind still clouded by the expensive wine. "Just one more glass, Ethan..."

Bree didn't have time for games. she grabbed a glass of ice water from the nightstand and dumped it down Iris's collar. The shock worked instantly. Iris bolted upright, gasping as the freezing water cleared the cobwebs from her brain.

"Bree? What are you doing here?" Iris asked, shivering.

"There are ten bodies at the restaurant where you were seen dining! Ten! The Governor is breathing down my neck!" Bree paced the room, her boots clicking sharply on the hardwood. "Tell me the truth, Iris. Did you hire someone? You can't take the fall for ten murders!"

Iris paled as the memories of the night began to surface. She remembered the thugs, the blades... and the pink-clad girl. "It was Ethan... no, wait, I mean, I did it!"

"Don't lie to me!" Bree shouted, her frustration boiling over. "You couldn't kill a fly, let alone ten professional hitmen. Who is this Ethan you keep mentioning?"

"Ethan... our brother. The little one. He's back, Bree."

Bree froze. "The eighth child? The one who was taken fifteen years ago? Iris, you've been scammed. We've seen dozens of fakes."

"No," Iris said, grabbing her phone and pulling up the security footage from the Mosaic Tower. "Look. The Dragon Birthmark. It’s him. He’s really back."

Bree stared at the screen, her eyes softening as the familiar mark of their lost brother appeared. Her eyes misted over. He was back. But the joy was instantly eclipsed by the horror of the situation. "If that’s him, then he’s just committed a mass homicide. The Governor has ordered a full-scale manhunt!"

Suddenly, Bree’s phone rang. The caller ID showed the Governor himself. Her heart skipped a beat. Had the warrant been issued? She took a deep breath and answered.

"Deputy Governor Smith," the Governor’s voice boomed. "Forget the restaurant for a moment. I have a higher priority. We’ve just received intel on a massive human trafficking ring operating out of the West District. I want you to raid the Wilson family immediately. This comes from the top—burn them to the ground."

Bree blinked, stunned by the sudden shift in orders. "But sir, the restaurant murders—"

"The Wilsons are the priority! They’ve been snatching children for years, and someone just blew their operation wide open. Move now!"

Bree hung up, a look of grim determination on her face. She looked at Iris. "Stay here. When our 'little brother' comes back, tell him to keep his head down. I have to go to the Wilson Villa."