Chapter 37: I Will Kill Some Dragons!

Chapter 37: I Will Kill Some Dragons!

The transition from a deep sleep was slow and heavy. For a moment, I was lost in the lingering sensations of a vivid dream, the warmth of the room pressing in on me as I gradually regained consciousness. I felt a hand resting on mine, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I realized I wasn't alone in the den.

The heavy fog in my head started to lift, replaced by the quiet stillness of the house in the middle of the night. I let out a breath, trying to piece together how I’d ended up on the couch.

"Mary?"

Mary was sitting right on the edge of the cushions, already dressed in her police uniform and preparing for her shift. The overhead lights flicked on, and

I squinted against the sudden glare. Hana was standing by the door in her pajamas, having just hit the switch.

"When I came down here, you had completely passed out," Hana explained, walking over with a soft look. "I noticed what you had pulled up on your computer, and I called Mary. We were worried about you, Rick."

Mary popped a piece of gum into her mouth, looking at me with a protective, serious expression.

"I’ve known about your background since we were kids," Mary said softly. "Your dad wanted to keep you away from your mother's family, especially with everything involving the Tang lineage. I didn't know how to tell you, but after Scott showed up, the timing felt impossible."

I reached out, pulling Mary into a tight hug. "I was stunned last night," I admitted, my voice steadying as my analytical mind re-centered. "But nothing has changed between us. You were trying to protect me, and I get that. You can head to work knowing I’m not letting this news get to me."

Mary pulled back, a small smirk playing on her lips. "You sure? You’re taking this surprisingly well."

I chuckled, gently nudging her toward the door. "Go on, get to work before you’re late."

Hana handed me a bottle of water. "Drink this. You need to stay hydrated. Mary’s heading out, so come upstairs and get some real rest."

After Mary left, I spent a few minutes in the shower, letting the hot water clear my head. My thoughts were already processing the direction of the situation. The Tang family history was a complication, but it didn't change my objectives. If anything, it gave me more reason to stay ahead of Scott.

The next few days were a blur of activity as we settled into the new house, but my focus eventually shifted to a more pressing matter: Dr. Chris Honda.

I stood in the shadows of the night, scoping out the area of a high-end apartment complex. My phone displayed a custom application I’d developed, which tracked the digital signals of specific individuals. It confirmed Honda was still at the hospital, giving me a window to move.

Using my instincts for navigating urban environments, I scaled the exterior wall, bypassing the main lobby and its security cameras. I reached the balcony of his high-rise unit and made quick work of the window lock, slipping inside the darkened apartment.

I moved with silent precision, heading straight for the bedroom. Arrogant people often hide their most sensitive items in predictable places. It took less than three minutes to locate a hidden USB drive. I quickly interfaced with his desktop, copying the files and establishing a remote-access link that would allow me to monitor his digital activity indefinitely.

In a small floor safe, I found a significant amount of cash—funds that would be much better utilized for my upcoming operations. I replaced the drive with a blank one and reset his security feeds, ensuring no trace of my visit remained. Honda had tried to align himself with Scott Tang to pressure me; this was just the first wave of the consequences.

I made a silent exit, disappearing back into the street-level shadows. I moved through the alleys, avoiding cameras and keeping a low profile as I headed back toward my staging area.

As I walked, my instincts flared. I was being followed.

I didn't panic. I increased my pace, turning into a narrow alley between two buildings and immediately used the brickwork to scramble onto the roof. Crouched in the shadows, I watched the street below.

A man wearing the green and white colors of the Hidden Dragons syndicate stepped into the alley, looking around frantically while speaking into a phone.

[ I lost him. He went into the alley, but he's gone. Send the backup to Elm and Randall, now! ]

I watched from the ledge, my mind racing. Why were the Hidden Dragons hunting me? I pulled out my phone and sent an encrypted message to Tina Feng.

[ Rick: Tina, I've got Hidden Dragons on my tail. Any idea who pulled the trigger on this? ]

The response came back almost instantly.

[ Tina: They're after you? I'm checking on this right now. Stay out of sight and watch your back. ]

While I wait for her response, I see some sudden action happening right at the mouth of the narrow alley down below.

A man dressed in a traditional, loose-fitting brown cassock over a crisp white undershirt steps out from the street corner, talking directly to the Hidden Dragons thug. The thug immediately lifts his arm, pointing his finger straight into the dark alleyway. The bald man pauses, slowly lifting his head until his gaze locks directly onto my position crouching in the shadows of the ledge. A cold, knowing smile spreads across his lips, letting me know instantly that he has me spotted. Damn. Just by the fluid way he carries his weight, my instincts warn me that this guy is a Master-level martial artist.

"Amitabha! Hello, young practitioner," the monk's deep, resonant voice carries clearly up to the roof. "Why don't you come down here for a peaceful dialogue?"

I shift my posture slightly, keeping my right hand buried deep beneath the heavy fabric of my long coat to hide the suppressed handgun from his view, and I yell straight down to the street.

"Sorry, my mother explicitly told me to never talk to or take candy from total strangers! Why don't you save your peaceful dialogue for the piece-of-shit man standing right next to you?"

The monk looks to be around thirty years old, his shaven head completely bare under the dim streetlights. He keeps that calm, peaceful smile plastered across his face, but my hardwired senses detect a massive, suffocating wave of hostility radiating off him. There is absolutely no doubt about his abilities; this bastard came here tonight looking for a lethal fight.

I know for a fact that Tina is actively trying to coordinate information on her end, but I cannot afford to divert my tactical attention from this guy for a single millisecond. In the hidden history of the underworld, some of the very first operational ninjas were actually rogue monks. The martial monks of this world aren't an exact historical match to the ones from my previous life on Earth, but the comical, stubborn stereotypes are still fully present in their behavior.

Before I can even plan a retreat path, the monk launches himself forward. With a few fluid, lightning-fast leaps and precise bounces off the opposing brick walls of the alley, he clears the vertical distance effortlessly. He sticks a perfect landing right on the narrow concrete building ledge, standing a mere five feet away from me. He adjusts his brown robes, staring me down.

"So you are Rick Lee?" the monk says softly, his tone dripping with a fake sense of pity. "I am truly sorry, young one, but you seem to carry far too many dark sins on your soul. I must permanently cripple your limbs tonight so you do not spread your wickedness any further into the modern world. Please forgive this humble monk for being so heavy-handed."

"So you are just a rabid dog barking on a leash for Kimberly Long?" I counter, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as I lock my fingers around the grip of the Beretta.

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he delivers a blatant lie.

"No, I don't work for anyone but the true Buddha! Now, just relax your body, and I shall make this entire process incredibly quick."

The exact millisecond the monk sprints forward to close the gap, my Gun-Fu instinct takes complete control of my muscles. I execute a lightning-fast quick-draw, snapping the barrel of my Beretta M9A4 straight up to point-blank range.

The monk instantly shifts his weight, actively trying to predict my trajectory by tracking the physical alignment of my barrel and watching my trigger finger to time his evasion—exactly the way my father used to do during our training. Under normal circumstances against a standard shooter, a martial artist of his caliber could appear to effortlessly dodge bullets through pure prediction. But this bastard has absolutely no idea that I combine high-tier martial arts directly with lethal firearms mechanics.

Thew! Thew! Thew!

Feeling the raw killing intent radiating off his form, I don't hesitate. I fire three rapid, calculated shots through the suppressor: one aimed directly for the center of his forehead, and a tight pair targeting his heart. Thanks to the high-end suppressor screwed onto the threads, the muzzle blasts sound no louder than a low-powered air rifle echoing off the brick.

Thump!

Because the monk completely underestimated my physical abilities, his evasion timing was totally wrecked. There was no way he could cleanly dodge my Gun-Fu while balanced on a narrow wall ledge without throwing himself completely into a blind jump. His body hits the gravel of the rooftop with a heavy, unmoving thud, dead a mere five feet away from me. It is honestly sad, really. Whoever pulled the financial trigger to send this guy to kill me clearly forgot to show him my recent warehouse fight videos.

Thew!

Not forgetting the lowlife fucker down in the street who had called for my hit in the first place, I pivot on my heel, lean over the ledge, and fire a long-range shot straight down the alley. I was actually aiming right for his dick, but the bullet catches him squarely in the joint, blasting his kneecap clean off his leg.

"AHHHHHH!"

The thug's agonizing scream echoes through the empty street. I don't linger to admire the work. I immediately launch myself forward, leaping across the gaps of the adjacent rooftops using my Master Acrobatics to completely escape the area, knowing the local police infrastructure is going to get absolutely nuts here very soon. As I run, I strip the thin latex gloves off my hands to ensure no trace of gunpowder residue remains on my skin in case I get brought in for emergency questioning. I need to get back to my staging area, secure my normal legal firearms, and stash this specific murder weapon far away from any upcoming ballistic investigations.

While attempting to remotely breach the local network to erase the surrounding street camera feeds, I freeze in confusion. Every single traffic and business camera in a three-block radius has already been completely shut down. I stare at the telemetry on my phone. Okay, is someone actively helping me from the digital shadows? This is the literal second time my electronic trail has been wiped clean by an outside force.

I sprint through the dark, reaching the hidden lot of my old apartment in record time. I quickly stash all of my tactical gear and the one hundred thousand dollars of stolen cash directly into the trunk of the old BMW, change into a clean, normal-looking grey jogging outfit, and immediately head back out onto the sidewalk at a steady run. I know my street-smart profile well; the police will likely pick me up for general questioning within the next half hour based on the shooting report.

My smartphone vibrates inside my pocket. I pull it up, reading the encrypted text feed from Tina.

[ Tina: I just found out the contract details. The Hidden Dragons are actively looking for you. Are you alright? ]

[ Rick: Too late. A Master monk from the Mountain Temple tried to permanently cripple me on a roof, so I had to send his ass straight to the Buddha. I also blew off the kneecap of the fucking snitch who called him in. The Hidden Dragons have an active hit out on my life, so it looks like I am going to have to systematically kill some idiots to fix this. ]

[ Tina: No way... holy crap, you actually killed one of the Mountain Temple Monks?! Fuck, Rick, this is incredibly bad... well, mostly bad for the wealthy people who hired him. ]

[ Rick: Well, I need to call my private lawyer early to set up an alibi, so if you don't have any specific intelligence on their numbers, I am logging out of this chat. ]

[ Tina: Absolutely do not start killing the Hidden Dragon forces just yet! You cannot physically fight their entire syndicate network alone. Let me handle the diplomacy on this. ]

[ Rick: I am not an official member of your Fire Birds syndicate, Tina, so there is very little your diplomacy can do for me. But you go ahead and tell them that I can easily take out the entire Long main house before they manage to kill me! In fact, I am heading straight to their estate right now to start the harvest! ]

I violently swipe the screen, cutting off the connection before she can reply.

"Fuck, yes! I finally managed to be the one to hang up on a woman first, haha!" I let out a sharp, gritty laugh, the adrenaline pumping hard through my veins. "Alright, time to get back to the garage, climb into the Hummer, and go crash a high-society party. Fuck the Long family!"

I jog back to our new estate, head straight down to the den, and strap my legal HK P30 handguns firmly onto my torso under my heavy coat. I climb straight into the driver's seat of the Hummer—which functions more like a military battering ram than a family vehicle—fully prepared to go knock on their fucking doors with maximum kinetic force. They want to fuck with my life? Let's see how they like the response.

I pull up the GPS coordinates for the main Long family estate on my dashboard screen, throwing the transmission into drive as I head down south.

Let's be clear: I am not acting crazy or irrational here. The Long family is actively sending Master-level assassins directly into my path, which means my co-wives, Hana and Mary, are in immediate physical danger if the syndicate ever decides to take them hostage to force my hand. To protect my family, I have to draw their absolute tactical attention toward me and violently shake their cages until they back off.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Suddenly, my private smartphone—which I had explicitly turned completely off a few minutes ago—begins to blare loudly from the console. I stare at the screen as the power overrides my settings, forcing the incoming line straight into speaker mode. A heavily scrambled, distorted voice echoes out into the cabin of the Hummer.

[ Rick Lee, what exactly are you planning to do right now? ]

"I am going to systematically kill some Dragons so they learn to never touch my reverse scale," I spit out, my voice laced with pure venom as I keep my eyes on the road. "And who the hell are you, and why are you helping me wipe my electronic footprint?"

[ I am explicitly not helping you commit a massacre, Rick. I am actively trying to prevent a multi-clan war from breaking out in the streets. ]

"Really?" I let out a harsh, mocking chuckle. "Well, that Mountain Temple monk successfully reached my position tonight. I only got lucky because he was completely stupid, so I killed him. The Long clan will keep sending these bald donkeys until my wives end up dead, so I have to teach them a painful, bloody lesson before I eventually reincarnate again."

[ The central government has already acted on this matter, Rick, so there is absolutely no need for you to deploy lethal force tonight. That is the exact reason I bypassed your device protocols to call you. The situation has been completely handled. ]

"Kimberly Long?" I demand, my foot hovering over the brake pedal.

[ She is currently in the process of being arrested by federal authorities for attempted murder. Her lawyers will most likely get her off the charges down the line, but she will not be able to move assets like this ever again. The entire structural foundation of the Long family would cease to exist if she tries a secondary strike. ]

"Why the hell are you helping a commoner like me?"

[ Because you cannot safely reincarnate a third time, Rick. If you die tonight, it would take an incredibly long period of cosmic time before your essence could ever return to this world... ]

My heart skips a hard beat. I violently stomp on the brakes, pulling the heavy Hummer over to the shoulder of the road and turning off the engine. The silence in the cabin is absolute.

"Reincarnation isn't real," I lie smoothly, my analytical mind racing to find a defense mechanism. "I was just making a stupid joke to Tina."

[ No, it is entirely real, and you are the only soul on this planet who has successfully achieved it across timelines... Yellow Emperor... ]

"..............."

[ Just turn the vehicle around, go back to your home, and be with your family, Rick. And please, do not bother attempting to trace this digital frequency; my computer use abilities are completely on par with your own. Just consider me your personal Guardian Angel. Click... do, do, do... ]

The line goes completely dead, the screen flashing dark.

Phew. I exhale a long, ragged breath against the steering wheel, trying to force my frantic thoughts back into a stable order.

I am completely astonished. The reality that my past life as a reincarnated soul is actively known by an outside intelligence entity is terrifying. And what the hell did that scrambled voice mean by calling me the Yellow Emperor? I was complete shit in my previous life on Earth, and I haven't been much better in this current one, right?

Is this exactly what my biological uncle, Anthony Tang, was trying to reference at the Ball? That there are massive, invisible forces constantly looking out for my safety from the shadows?

"Fuck!" I mutter into the dark cabin, a cold sweat breaking out across my neck. "Was I seriously just about to go total murder-hobo on a major noble estate?"

Staring out the windshield, I feel like I finally understand my father's old choices a bit more clearly now. The exact second you allow yourself to truly love someone, you have no choice but to get stronger to protect them, sigh.

I turn the key, starting the heavy engine of the Hummer. Carrying a deeply complicated, heavy mood in my chest, I swing the vehicle into a U-turn and begin the long drive back home to my wives.