"You hurt my daughter without saying, now you want to hurt my nephew, because of you, our Johnson family is now in a precarious state. You tell me what to do!" Simon Johnson''s voice thundered through my living room.


    I stared back at him, feeling nothing but cold contempt. His family had caused me nothing but grief, yet here they stood in my home, demanding restitution for wounds they''d inflicted on themselves.


    "What you should do," I said, my voice steady, "is leave my house before I have you removed for trespassing."


    Christian Johnson stepped forward, his face mottled with rage. "You think we came here to be dismissed? No, Knight. You destroyed my son''s career. You owe us."


    "I owe you nothing," I replied. "Your son abused his power. He threatened me and my business. He got exactly what he deserved."


    "You always think you''re so righteous," Beatrice Sterling interjected from behind them. I hadn''t even noticed her sitting quietly in the corner. "My sister suffered because of you, and now the Johnsons suffer too."


    Iughed without humor. "Your sister cheated on me while I ved away for your family. And as for the Johnsons—they made their own bed."


    Christian''s eyes narrowed to slits. "We wantpensation. Five million, at minimum."


    "Excuse me?" I couldn''t believe his audacity.


    "You heard me," Christian pressed. "Five million to make this right. Otherwise, you have no idea what the Johnson family can do to you."


    I felt my patience evaporating. "Are you threatening me? After what happened to your son today?"


    "It''s not a threat," Simon cut in. "It''s a statement of fact. The Johnson family has deeper connections than you could possibly imagine."


    I studied their faces—Simon''s cold fury, Christian''s naked greed, Beatrice''s smug certainty. Only Ka looked uncertain, her eyes darting between her father and me.


    "Tell me, Christian," I said slowly. "Are you here representing the Johnson family in an official capacity?"


    Christian hesitated, his eyes calcting. "I''m here as Daxon''s father, demanding justice."


    I pressed further. "So you''re not speaking on behalf of the Johnson family? This isn''t an official Johnson family matter?"


    He scoffed. "I don''t need family permission to protect my son''s interests. This is between you and me."


    A cold smile spread across my face. "I see. So you''re acting independently. Just to be clear."


    Something in my tone must have rmed Simon, because he suddenly looked wary. "What does that matter? We''re all Johnsons here."


    "Not me," Christian said quickly, sensing an opportunity. "I''m asking for this money for my son alone. If I get it, the Johnson family doesn''t need to be involved at all."


    I noticed Simon''s bewildered expression, but Christian was too focused on the potential payday to see it. He thought he was being clever, creating a direct connection between himself and the money.


    "So just to be absolutely clear," I said, "you''re saying this has nothing to do with the Johnson family. This is just you, Christian Johnson, acting independently for your son."


    "Exactly," Christian nodded eagerly. "Just between us. Five million, and this goes away."


    I nodded slowly. "I appreciate the rification."


    With lightning speed that caught everyone off guard, I lunged forward. Before Christian could react, my hand closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground.


    "What are you—" Simon began, but froze when he saw the deadly intent in my eyes.


    "I made a promise to William Sterling," I said, my voice eerily calm as Christian choked in my grip. "I promised I wouldn''t harm any members of the Johnson family."


    Christian''s eyes bulged as he wed at my hand.


    "But you just made it very clear," I continued, "that you''re not here as a Johnson. This isn''t Johnson family business. It''s just you, acting alone." <mark ss="in-imprint-b">The most up-to-date version is on *.</mark>


    "Let him go!" Ka screamed. "You''re killing him!"


    "That''s precisely the point," I replied, tightening my grip. "He created a loophole in my promise. How convenient."


    Christian''s face was turning purple, his struggles weakening.


    "Liam, please!" Beatrice begged. "This is murder!"


    "No," I corrected her. "This is justice. For three years of humiliation. For the threats against my business. For the arrogance toe into my home and demand money."


    With one final squeeze, I felt something crack beneath my fingers. Christian''s body went limp, his eyes wide and unseeing. I released him, and he crumpled to the floor.


    Simon and Beatrice stared in horror. Ka screamed, falling to her knees beside her father''s body.


    "Get out," I said coldly. "Take him with you. And remember—I promised William Sterling I wouldn''t harm the Johnson family. So long as you identify as Johnsons, that promise holds. But the moment you try to separate yourselves for your own benefit..." I let the threat hang in the air.


    Simon grabbed Beatrice''s arm and backed toward the door. "You''re insane," he whispered. "You won''t get away with this."


    "I already have," I replied. "Now take him and go."


    They hurriedly dragged Christian''s body out, Ka sobbing hysterically as they went. The door mmed behind them, leaving me alone in sudden silence.


    I felt no remorse, only a cold certainty that I had done what was necessary. My enemies needed to understand that I was no longer the man they could push around.


    ---


    Two dayster, I found myself walking through the doors of the Traditional Medicine Hospital. My supply of medicinal herbs had been depleted faster than expected, and I needed specific ingredients for my next batch of pills.


    The hospital bustled with activity, patients filling every avable seat in the waiting area. Many looked dejected, some clearly in pain.


    "Excuse me," I approached the reception desk. "I''m looking to purchase some medicinal herbs."


    The nurse barely nced up. "Third floor, eastern wing. But there''s a long wait today. Dr. Davenport is giving free consultations."


    "Dr. Davenport?" I asked.


    "Desmond Davenport," she replied with reverence. "The Traditional Medicine God himself. He only does this once a month. Peoplee from all over."


    I nodded my thanks and headed upstairs. The third floor was even more crowded, with a line stretching down the hallway. At the front, I could see a distinguished-looking man in his sixties, silver-haired and wearing an immacte white coat. A younger assistant stood beside him, clipboard in hand.


    As I browsed the herb selection, keeping one eye on the proceedings, a thin woman in threadbare clothes approached Dr. Davenport. Her hands trembled as she presented a small cloth-wrapped package.


    "Dr. Davenport," she said, her voice quavering, "I''ve been waiting since dawn. My son has been coughing blood for weeks."


    Davenport''s assistant stepped forward. "Did you bring an offering for the doctor?"


    The woman unwrapped her package, revealing a small, worn jade bracelet. "It was my mother''s. It''s all I have."


    The assistant sniffed dismissively and showed the bracelet to Davenport, who barely nced at it before shaking his head.


    "Dr. Davenport''s expertise is valuable," the assistant said loudly. "This is... insufficient. Perhaps you should try the general clinic downstairs."


    "But they sent me here," the woman protested, tears forming. "They said only Dr. Davenport could help with this condition."


    "Then perhaps you should find something more suitable to show your appreciation," the assistant replied coldly.


    As the woman was ushered away, still pleading, a well-dressed man pushed to the front of the line. No one protested—his expensive suit and confident demeanor seemed to grant him immunity from the rules.


    He pulled out an exquisite jade pendant and presented it with a flourish. "Dr. Davenport, I hope you can help me today."


    Davenport''s entire demeanor changed. His previously stern face broke into a warm smile as he personally epted the jade pendant, examining it with obvious approval.


    "My friend," Davenport said, patting the wealthy man''s shoulder, "what''s wrong with you?"


    I felt my blood boil as I watched this naked disy of greed masquerading as medicine. The "Traditional Medicine God" was nothing but amon fraud, selling his skills to the highest bidder while the truly desperate were left to suffer.


    My hand tightened around the herb container I was holding until it nearly cracked. This supposed paragon of healing was the very embodiment of everything wrong with the system I was fighting against.