The guards approached with steady, heavy steps. Their faces were carved into cold masks, the kind meant to intimidate.

The loud music, flashing lights, and moving bodies around Liam and Isabella didn't matter anymore, with everything else blurring into the background as the approaching presence took over the atmosphere.

Liam turned to Isabella with a soft laugh, amused at the guards' posturing and deluded intimidating approach.

"Your friends are back. And they look really pissed," he said to her.

Isabella turned her head instinctively. The moment she saw the two guards pushing through the crowd, her body tensed. She released a frustrated exhale, her jaw tightening.

"They really don't want to give up," she muttered.

Her voice dropped lower, filled with worry and resignation.

"I'll go with them," she said quickly. "Ethan, please—don't say anything, don't do anything. I don't want to drag you into this."

Liam smiled at her gently, appreciating the intention. But unfortunately for her, he had already stepped into the mess. So, there's no "staying out of it" anymore.

And besides... he wanted to meet this arrogant young master. He was amused, curious, maybe even entertained.

With Liam's power, influence, and status on Earth, he wasn't just a young master. He's the final boss of young masters.

The guards reached them. One stood directly in front of Liam, the other before Isabella.

The taller one looked at Liam with cold authority and spoke with a voice that doesn't allow refusal: "Our young master is inviting you and the lady to join him for a drink."

Liam raised a brow, then smiled.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes," the guard replied stiffly.

Liam chuckled softly, turning to Isabella.

"Looks like I'll have to implicate myself a little more," he said.

"I'm… I'm so sorry...," Isabella said with her expression falling into guilt instantly, and her eyes soft and apologetic.

"It's fine. Come on. Let's not keep your admirer waiting," Liam smiled and waved the apology away with ease, and confidence.

He stood up smoothly and extended his hand towards her.

Isabella hesitated, torn between fear and trust—but eventually she placed her hand in his. Her fingers trembled slightly, but Liam's grip was steady, warm, reassuring.

She didn't know why… but when he held her hand, her fear eased just a little.

The guards watched the exchange, and scoffed internally.

Another arrogant fool, they thought.

To them, Liam's just trying to impress a woman.

They had seen it many times—men acting tough until reality hit them. In the end, their pride shattered, their bones followed, and the girl they tried to defend paid the price.

They couldn't wait to see Liam kneel and beg.

The guards turned sharply.

"This way."

As they walked, Isabella's worry grew heavier with each step. Her breathing became shallow, her fingers curling nervously around Liam's arm.

He felt it instantly and squeezed her arm gently.

"Relax. Everything will be alright," he said softly.

She looked up at him. His calm expression should have irritated her. She can't imagine how anyone could be so relaxed in a situation like this?

But for some reason… She believed him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Liam nodded, eyes facing forward as they climbed the steps leading to the VIP section of the club.

The hallway was quieter than the main floor, with dim lighting and doors lined on both sides. Each one had a gold plate and was guarded discreetly. Music thumped faintly behind the thick, soundproofed walls.

The guards stopped in front of one of the rooms. They opened the door and stepped aside.

"Please go in."

Liam walked in first, still holding Isabella's hand. She followed him closely, hesitant but trusting.

Inside the VIP room, the lighting was softer, tinted a warm red. The air smelled faintly of perfume and expensive liquor.

At the center of the room was a sunken lounge, couches arranged in a half-circle.

On the middle couch sat a young Chinese man, no older than twenty-three. His hair was styled immaculately, his suit tailored to perfection, and his grin dripping with indulgence.

Women surrounded him—five of them—dancing in sensual motions, their bodies brushing against him. One of them straddled his lap, moving her hips slowly while he sipped from a glass and watched lazily.

Liam took the scene in with a faint, amused smile.

Without hesitation and without being invited, he walked straight to the couch opposite the young master and sat down calmly, crossing one leg over the other.

The entire room froze. The dancers stopped, the young master blinked in a mix of confusion and disbelief, and the guards stared in disbelief.

Liam looked at Isabella and gently tapped the space next to him.

"Sit. Don't stand there. Your legs might hurt," he said.

Isabella almost choked on her breath.

This man… was unbelievable.

Her eyes darted between him and the young master. Fear twisted inside her. But the certainty and lack of fear in Liam's gaze made her feel safe.

Eventually, she sat beside him, her body angled close, as if his presence was a shield.

Liam turned toward the young master, who was staring at him with a twisted expression filled with half confusion, half disbelief, as if silently asking what on earth was happening.

Liam didn't bother giving him an explanation. He simply reached for the whiskey bottle, poured himself a glass, and asked calmly, "Isabella, do you want anything?"

She shook her head quickly. "I'm fine."

He nodded, lifted the glass, and downed it in one smooth motion. Then he set it back on the table with a soft clink.

"Thanks for the drink," he said casually to the young master, as if the situation were completely normal.

He rose to his feet and glanced at Isabella.

"Let's go."

Isabella froze. She looked at Liam, then at the young master, then at the guards whose eyes were burning with shock and barely restrained rage. Her heartbeat spiked. She felt unsafe staying here, but she also felt that Liam was provoking things far beyond reasonable.

Liam noticed her worry immediately and spoke softly, "You don't need to stress. We've already taken the drink he offered. We're done here."

Still, she hesitated.

So Liam turned his attention fully back to the young master, his tone polite but firm.

"Right, Yuan Hao? We're allowed to leave now?"

The young master stiffened when he heard his name spoken so casually and his eyes narrowed sharply.

He had been watching Liam since the moment he entered. He watched how he sat without asking, drank without permission, spoke without fear. Every action was a slap across the face.

It made his rage boiled.

And then Liam spoke his name—his name—without having been introduced.

Yuan Hao's irritation snapped and exploded. His face darkened as he leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into a cold, controlled whisper.

"So you still choose to act this way… even though you clearly know who I am?"

"Wrong question," Liam replied calmly. "The real question is: who exactly do you think you are to posture like this in front of me?"

The words cracked through the room like lightning.

Yuan Hao laughed, clapping slowly, the sound hollow and mocking.

"You've got guts," he spat.

He turned to his guards.

"Break his legs and an arm, and make him kneel."

The guards nodded instantly and charged. But they didn't even get halfway, as Liam raised his hand lazily and flicked his wrist.

A ripple of force—silent but violent—burst outward.

THUD! BOOM!

Both guards were ripped off their feet and sent crashing backwards against the far wall with a heavy thud. They slumped to the ground, coughing, unable to rise.

Isabella gasped sharply.

The dancers screamed and scrambled away.

The young master's smile died instantly.

Before Yuan Hao could blink, Liam vanished.

One moment he was beside Isabella… the next he stood directly in front of him, so close that the man could see his reflection in Liam's emotionless eyes.

Liam's hand rested lightly on the young master's shoulder, though it felt like a mountain pressing on his soul.

Liam's voice dropped to a chilling, lethal whisper.

"Let me ask you again," he said. "Who do you think you are to act arrogant before me?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

For the first time in his privileged, sheltered life, Yuan Hao felt something he had never felt from anyone other than his father.

Fear.

Real fear.

His vision trembled, his throat tightened and his spine tingled with a cold that seemed to seep into his bones.

Every instinct in his body screamed the same thing:

You stepped on the tail of a sleeping tiger.

And this tiger didn't seem interested in letting him walk away unharmed.

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