Singapore – A City of Lights and Secrets
The neon skyline of Singapore flickered against the midnight sky, casting long shadows over the bustling streets below. To an ordinary man, the city pulsed with life—unbothered, unshaken. But Vincent was not an ordinary man.
He could feel it.
An undercurrent of power, hidden beneath the layers of civilization. The world may have moved forward with technology, but the old ways—the true power—never faded. It simply adapted, lurking beneath modernity's veil.
Vincent stepped off the private jet, his waist-length white hair flowing as the night breeze carried whispers of the unknown. Behind him, Lucien followed, his usual arrogance dimmed by the weight of their recent encounters.
"You sure about this?" Lucien muttered.
Vincent didn't answer. He didn't need to.
The only reason he was here was because of her.
Denise Zeng Ely – A Name That Carried Weight
Denise Zeng Ely wasn't just the heiress of a wealthy family.
She was something else.
Her family, the Zeng Clan, wasn't among the Twelve Hidden Families, but their history was ancient. Legends whispered that the Zeng once touched the edge of true power, only to turn away.
Vincent never cared for such tales. The strong dictated their own truths.
But now, Denise had reached out to him.
And he was listening.
Their car rolled through the city, moving toward a secluded villa perched atop a hill overlooking the Singapore Strait. The estate was silent, its design elegant yet fortified—a structure meant to keep unwanted forces out.
Vincent stepped out, his presence alone distorting the air.
Denise stood at the entrance, her silhouette outlined against the dim lighting. She wore a simple yet refined black dress, her midnight hair cascading down her back.
She met his gaze without hesitation.
"You came faster than I expected."
Vincent's crimson eyes burned into hers. "I don't waste time."
Denise let out a small chuckle, but there was tension beneath it. "Good. Because we don't have much."
She turned and led them inside.
Vincent followed, but he was already aware. Something was here.
The Forgotten Relic
The moment they stepped into the inner chambers, Vincent felt it.
A pulse of something old, something ancient.
Denise exhaled slowly. "I need to show you something."
She moved to a sealed obsidian case, her fingers glowing faintly as they pressed against the lock. A surge of golden energy flickered—an ancient barrier designed to keep out those unworthy.
Vincent's expression remained unreadable.
With a soft click, the case opened. Inside, resting on a velvet cloth, was a fragment of something broken—something familiar.
Lucien stiffened. "No way—"
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
It was the same energy as the artifact he destroyed in Beijing.
Denise watched him carefully. "Now you understand, don't you?"
Vincent reached out, his fingers brushing against the fragment.
And then—
The world… trembled.
A voice, distant yet deafening, echoed in his mind.
"You cannot outrun fate."
Vincent's fingers tightened.
Fate?
There was no fate in his world. Only his will.
The fragment trembled violently before shattering into nothingness, disintegrating in his grasp. The entire room shuddered, as if reality itself recoiled at his rejection of fate.
Denise's breath hitched. "You—"
Vincent turned his gaze to her. "Where did you get this?"
She hesitated for only a moment before saying—
"The Vatican."
Lucien swore under his breath.
Vincent remained motionless, but his presence shifted. A storm was brewing within him, silent yet inevitable.
Denise continued, her voice lower now. "I have reason to believe the artifact you destroyed in Beijing wasn't the only one. The Vatican has been collecting them—pieces of something greater."
Vincent tilted his head slightly. "And?"
Denise met his gaze. "And they know about you."
For the first time since entering the room, Lucien took a slow step forward. "Hold on. Are you saying the Vatican has been keeping track of Vincent?"
Denise nodded. "Not just him. Your entire family."
Silence.
Then—
A slow, chilling smile spread across Vincent's lips.
"So, they finally decided to make their move."
Denise exhaled. "They're not making a move, Vincent. They've already started."
Lucien clenched his fists. "Damn it. This is worse than I thought."
Vincent, however, remained unshaken. His gaze burned with something deeper—something ancient.
Let them come.
If they thought they could dictate his fate…
They would learn the hard way.
Fate did not control him.
He controlled fate.