The Urban Sovereign Returns

Episode 4

"Off you go now, Ethan! And remember, don't buy the expensive meat. Use that spare change for parking or anything else, just don't lose it!"

Martha Thorne’s shrill voice from the breakfast table this morning still buzzed in Ethan’s ears like an irritating fly. He let out a short sigh, combing his slightly dishevelled hair back as he pushed the trolley down the aisle of FreshMart City, the city centre's busiest and most luxurious supermarket.

In his hand, a sheet of shopping list paper looked crumpled and sweat-stained. It contained only mundane items: fresh broccoli, garlic, washing-up liquid, and detergent. A stark contrast to his former status, having once commanded tens of thousands of mercenaries overseas.

Only two more years, Master, Ethan thought calmly. He sorted through several stalks of broccoli with eyes trained to detect all manner of poisons, though now he only used them to find the least wilted florets.

As he was bending down to retrieve a bag of salt from the bottom shelf, the usually noisy supermarket aisle suddenly fell silent. Measured, firm footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. Ethan remained in position, but his keen senses had already picked up a familiar aura.

A procession of men in expensive black suits walked in. In the centre of the group, an elderly man with silver hair and a stiff posture—Thomas Heng—was listening to a report from the store manager. Thomas Heng was not merely a businessman; he was the custodian of hidden assets for the nation’s most influential families.

Thomas’s footsteps abruptly halted. His sharp eyes behind gold-rimmed spectacles fixed upon the figure of the man in faded jeans who was placing the salt into his trolley.

Thomas Heng’s previously haughty face suddenly drained of colour. His lips trembled, and a cold sweat began to bead on his wrinkled skin.

"Mr Heng? Would you like us to check the wine stock in the back?" his confused assistant asked.

Thomas did not hear a word. His world seemed to split in two. Standing before him was a legend who had been technically 'dead' to the world three years ago. The man who held the Sovereign’s seal.

Thomas took a step forward, his legs trembling. He was about to prostrate himself on the floor to offer the highest reverence—an ancient tradition of their order reserved for one ruler alone. "S-sov—"

Just as Thomas’s mouth opened, Ethan looked up.

Their eyes met. There was no warmth there. Only a flash of frozen authority, a silent command delivered through a gaze. Ethan shook his head slightly, so subtly that no one else noticed.

*Remain a stranger, or your head will be separated from your neck before sunset.*

That was the unspoken message Thomas Heng clearly read. The old man jolted, clenching his jaw so hard his teeth ached. He was forced to suppress the instinctive urge to kneel.

Ethan calmly looked away, returning his focus to the rows of corned beef tins as if he were the world’s most meticulous husband.

"Mr Heng, are you alright?" His assistant began to sense something was wrong, as his master had stood frozen for ten full seconds.

Thomas Heng swallowed hard. His voice sounded hoarse and nearly breaking. "I... I am fine. Continue the walk. I just feel dizzy; the light here is too bright."

Thomas was forced to keep moving. However, as he passed Ethan, the old man unconsciously drew a sharp breath and bowed his head a few inches, a subconscious movement made by a servant seeing his master in exile.

Ethan only whispered very softly, barely audible over the air moving through the gaps in the cooking oil shelf. "You are getting old, Heng. Don't let your hands tremble in front of your subordinates."

Thomas Heng felt as if his heart had been struck by lightning. He dared not reply. He continued walking, his back somehow stooping lower than usual. His subordinates and the supermarket manager could only whisper in astonishment at the strange behaviour of the Banking Tycoon.

Upon reaching the supermarket exit, Ethan completed his payment using the loose change Martha had deliberately given him that morning. Carrying two plastic carrier bags, he walked towards the car park under the scorching midday sun.

However, before he reached the pavement, he saw out of the corner of his eye: Thomas Heng’s black limousine was still parked by the roadside.

The car door opened, and Thomas Heng stood beside the vehicle, ignoring the heat. As Ethan’s figure passed in his shabby clothes, the old man—who was most feared by Jasper Wang—no longer cared about his surroundings.

Thomas Heng brought his feet together stiffly, then slowly bowed ninety degrees towards Ethan’s retreating back. He held the position for a considerable time, oblivious to the stares of people who recognised his face as a figure of the city elite.

An assistant ran up to Thomas. "Sir! What are you doing? Bowing to that scruffy young man? Reporters could see us!"

Thomas Heng slowly straightened up, his face filled with deep reverence, mixed with chilling dread.

"Silence yourself," Thomas hissed, his eyes sharp once more, staring into the distance where Ethan had vanished. "If this entire city were destroyed and razed to the ground, that man is the only reason you and I might still be allowed to breathe tomorrow."

"What do you mean, Sir? Who is he?" the assistant trembled, hearing the brittle tone of his superior’s voice.

Thomas took a long breath, pulled a dull black ring from his pocket, and clenched it tightly. "Send a secret message to all our banking branches. Everyone connected to the name Thorne, place them under the strictest surveillance. And whichever young man insulted that man this morning..."

Thomas paused. A flash of bloodlust appeared momentarily in his eyes. "Destroy their credit lines tonight. Don't leave a single scrap."

He then got back into his car hastily. Thomas knew the tiger was playing a part, but his claws were beginning to emerge from beneath the calm facade.

Meanwhile, Ethan walked calmly down the alleyway, completely unconcerned that his actions minutes earlier had initiated a financial storm that would wipe out the entire Thorne family overnight. All that was on his mind was: would Clara like the broccoli he had just bought?