Prologue: The Unworthy
The sound was not a scream, but a protest. The shriek of rubber desperately clawing at asphalt, trying to reclaim traction that physics had already revoked. It was the last sound Li Wei heard before the world dissolved into a violent, unforgiving physics equation.
There was the impact—a hollow, crushing thud that resonated deep within the cage of his bones, a sensation more felt than heard. Then, the weightless, surreal sensation of flight. The city—a blur of neon signs and sterile office lights—tilted on its axis, spinning around him as he was thrown from the epicenter of the collision. This wasn't a life flashing before his eyes; it was a life being violently ripped away, and in its place, his mind, clinging to its last moments of coherence, offered him only the faces that defined its edges.
First, the anchors. The ones that held him fast to the world.
His mother's face, materializing from the chaos. Not as she was now, lined with quiet worry for her son who worked too much, but as she was in his childhood. Her eyes, warm and crinkled at the corners, gazed down at him with a doting, unconditional love that had always been his sanctuary. He could almost smell the faint scent of jasmine tea that always clung to her clothes. Behind her, the strong, silent presence of his father. A man of few words, whose pride was not shouted but shown in the steady, reliable weight of his hand on Li Wei's shoulder, a gesture that said, I am here. You are mine. You are enough.
They were the foundation. The reason he had pushed so hard, dreamed so big. To make them proud. To give them a life of ease after their decades of sacrifice. The thought of their grief, the light in their eyes extinguished by a phone call from a frantic stranger, was a sharper pain than any the truck could inflict.
Then, the poison. The faces that had just hours ago twisted his reality into a nightmare.
Lin Jie and Zhang Wei.
The faces of his brothers.
But not the faces he had known for over a decade. The memory that surged forth was from the boardroom. Their features, once familiar and trusted, were now masks of cold, polished triumph. Lin Jie's mouth, usually pressed into a thin line of concentration over a spreadsheet, was curved into a faint, dismissive smirk. His eyes, behind their rimless glasses, held no trace of their shared all-nighters or celebrated successes, only the cool, calculated gleam of a predator seeing its trap spring shut.
And Zhang Wei. His charismatic, boisterous friend, whose laugh had once filled every room. His expression was one of open, gloating mockery. A raised eyebrow, a tilt of the head that seemed to say, "Did you really think you were one of us? Did you really think you were our equal?"
The juxtaposition was a psychic wound. The pure, selfless love of his parents against the venomous, calculated betrayal of his partners. The injustice of it was a fire in his soul, burning hotter than the agony blooming in his shattered body.
His back met the unforgiving pavement with a final, bone-jarring crunch. Darkness swirled at the edges of his vision, a thick, oily tide ready to pull him under. The world began to mute, the sounds of gasps and distant car horns fading into a dull hum.
But deep within, something refused to go quietly. A final, defiant spark. His right hand, lying twisted at his side, clenched into a fist. His nails dug into his palm, a small, focused point of pain against the overwhelming numbness. It was a conscious act, a message to himself, to the universe, to the gods of chance who had let this happen.
A vow, etched not on paper, but on his dying breath.
If I live... I will not rest. I will not forget. I will tear down everything you've built. I will make your lives a living hell, a reflection of the emptiness you've created in mine. I swear it.
The darkness surged, eager to claim him. And as it did, there was not peace, not acceptance, but a searing, all-consuming rage.
And then, a flash of pure, blinding white light.
It consumed everything.
---
The white light did not bring darkness. It brought memory. It was a key, turning in the lock of his mind, throwing open the door to a past that now felt like a beautiful, painted lie.
Three years earlier. The air in the cramped dorm room was thick with the smell of instant noodles, cheap coffee, and the electric hum of ambition.
"It's genius, Wei! Absolutely genius!" Zhang Wei boomed, slapping the rickety desk so hard the laptop screen wobbled. He was all kinetic energy and dazzling smiles, his ability to sell a dream already evident.
Li Wei smiled, a tired but exhilarated pull at his lips. Code scrolled down the screen in front of him—the raw, beating heart of the project. "It's just a prototype. There's a long way to go."
"A long way we will travel together, as brothers!" Zhang Wei declared, throwing an arm around a more reserved Lin Jie, who was frowning at an Excel spreadsheet.
"Financially, it's a mess," Lin Jie said without looking up, his finger tracing a column of numbers. "The initial capital outlay for server space alone is prohibitive. And a three-way split of equity is… problematic."
Li Wei's heart sank slightly. This was always the risk. An idea was one thing, but reality, with its budgets and bottom lines, was another.
Lin Jie finally looked up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His gaze was serious, analytical. "A three-way equal split creates deadlock. 33.3% each. No one has a deciding vote. It's inefficient. It's weak."
"So, what are you saying?" Li Wei asked, the fear of dissolution tightening his chest.
"I'm saying the idea is yours, Wei. The code is yours. The vision is yours. Zhang Wei and I are support. Vital support, but support nonetheless." Lin Jie turned his screen around. It showed a new equity structure. "You take 50%. Zhang Wei and I will take 25% each. You remain the majority shareholder. The final say is always yours. It's the only structure that makes logical sense."
Li Wei was stunned. "No, I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking," Zhang Wei interrupted, his smile softer now, genuine. "We're insisting. You're the leader. This is your ship. We're just the first mates helping you steer it. Right, Lin Jie?"
Lin Jie nodded, a rare, small smile touching his lips. "Precisely. It's the most logical path to success."
The warmth that flooded Li Wei was overwhelming. This wasn't just business; it was trust. It was brotherhood. They believed in him so much they were willingly placing their futures in his hands. They toasted with warm beer from the convenience store, the clink of the cans sounding like a sacred pact.
"To Tri-Star Ventures!" Zhang Wei shouted. "To us," Li Wei said, his voice thick with emotion. "To a logical and profitable future," Lin Jie added, and they all laughed.
The memory was so vivid, so warm. He could feel the cheap polyester of the dorm couch, taste the bitter beer. He could see the earnestness on their faces. It had been real. He would have staked his life on it.
And in a way, he just had.
The flashback shifted, montaging forward. The converted garage that served as their first office, smelling of motor oil and hope. The first time their server crashed from unexpected traffic, and they all pulled a frantic 48-hour shift to fix it, ordering pizza at 4 a.m. and laughing through the stress. Zhang Wei, securing their first major client with nothing but a prototype and his silver tongue. Lin Jie, navigating their first multi-million-RMB funding round with the ruthless precision of a chess master, securing them a valuation they'd only dreamed of.
They moved into a gleaming skyscraper in Shanghai's Pudong district. The Tri-Star logo—three interconnected stars—was emblazoned on the wall behind a reception desk made of imported marble. They had done it. They were billionaires on paper, the darlings of the tech world.
But the light in the memory began to harden, the warmth leaching away to be replaced by a subtle chill.
He remembered Lin Jie questioning his proposal to invest a portion of their profits into a new, green data center initiative. "The ROI is too slow, Wei. It's a sentimental decision, not a business one. We have shareholders to think about now." The word "sentimental" was spoken like a curse.
He remembered calling Zhang Wei's phone to join a client dinner, only to be told, "Ah, sorry, brother! It was a last-minute thing with Chairman Luo. Very informal. Didn't think you'd want to be bothered." He'd seen photos on WeChat the next day—a lavish, multi-course banquet.
He remembered passing Lin Jie's office and seeing the door slightly ajar, Zhang Wei inside, their heads close together in conversation. They fell silent when he walked in. "Just going over the logistics for the quarterly review," Lin Jie had said smoothly. "Nothing for you to worry about."
He had worried. But each time, he'd rationalized it. Lin Jie is just being the cautious CFO. Zhang Wei is networking, it's what he does. They're my brothers. I trust them. He had built a cage of his own trust, and they were quietly locking the door behind him.
---
The memory snapped into sharp, horrifying focus. The present-day boardroom.
He had walked in with a smile, a proposal for a new charitable foundation in his tablet. He wanted to use their wealth for good. He couldn't wait to tell them.
The air in the room was arctic. The panoramic view of the Huangpu River behind them seemed to mock the tension within. Lin Jie and Zhang Wei were already seated. They did not smile. A man in a severe black suit—a stranger—sat beside them.
"Wei," Lin Jie began, his voice devoid of all warmth. It was the tone he used for terminating incompetent employees. "Please sit."
"What's this about?" Li Wei asked, his smile fading.
Zhang Wei didn't meet his eyes. He examined his own perfectly manicured nails.
It was the stranger who spoke. "Li Wei, I am legal counsel representing the majority shareholders of Tri-Star Ventures. You are here to answer serious allegations of embezzlement and gross misconduct."
The words didn't make sense. They were sounds, empty of meaning. Embezzlement?
Lin Jie slid a tablet across the polished table. On it were spreadsheets, financial transfers, doctored emails—a web of compelling, fabricated evidence all leading back to an offshore account linked to Li Wei's name.
"The evidence is irrefutable," Lin Jie said, his voice cold. "You have been systematically siphoning company funds for the better part of a year."
"This is insane!" Li Wei choked out, his heart hammering against his ribs. "You know this isn't true! Lin Jie! Zhang Wei! Look at me!"
Zhang Wei finally looked up. And there it was. The mocking expression that would haunt Li Wei's final moments. It was a look of pitying contempt.
"We trusted you, Wei," Zhang Wei said, his voice a parody of disappointment. "We gave you everything."
The betrayal was so absolute, so meticulously planned, that it felt like the floor had vanished beneath him. They quoted clauses from the shareholder agreement he'd signed in that dusty dorm room—clauses Lin Jie had drafted, clauses he now realized had been designed for this very moment.
The offer was presented. Not a discussion. A verdict.
"Sign over your shares to us for a sum of one RMB," Lin Jie said. "Do it quietly, and we will not press criminal charges. We will not release this evidence to the public. Think of your parents, Wei. Do you really want them to see their son, the thief, plastered across every news outlet? Do you want to leave them with that shame?"
They had aimed with surgical precision. Not at his wealth, not at his pride, but at his love for his parents. They knew his core, and they used it as a weapon to destroy him.
His hand shook as he scrawled his name on the document that signed away his life's work. The pen felt like a betrayal in itself. He stood up, the world tilting around him, and walked out without a word. He didn't look back. The sound of the boardroom door closing behind him was the sound of his own tomb sealing.
---
The memory ended.
Li Wei's consciousness slammed back into the present. The cold pavement. The metallic taste of blood. The distant, fading sounds of the city.
The white light was still there. But it wasn't memory anymore.
It was something else.
It pulsed, blindingly bright, filling his entire being. It wasn't silent. It was a deafening roar, a digital scream of shattering glass and screeching data, tearing through his mind.
Impossible text, sharp and glitching, burned itself onto the inside of his eyelids against the blinding white:
[CRITICAL PHYSICAL TRAUMA DETECTED] [HOST'S NEURAL SIGNATURE: ALIGNED WITH EXTREME VENGEANCE PARAMETERS] [CONGRUENCY: 99.9%] [...OVERRIDING STANDARD SYSTEM PROTOCOL...] [...PURGING 'APOCALYPSE SURVIVAL' FRAMEWORK...] [LOADING SPECIALIZED MODULE...] [TYRANT'S RETRIBUTION SYSTEM v.1.0 ACTIVATED]
The pain vanished. The sound ceased. Everything went still and silent, save for the crisp, clear lines of text that now hung in the void before him.
A voice, cool and utterly devoid of emotion, yet immensely powerful, spoke not to his ears, but directly into the core of his soul.
"Greetings, Host. Your request for retribution has been approved."