"Who are you, some old geezer? What''s it got to do with you? Did I ask for your opinion?"


    The terminal fell silent at the man''s words. I felt my blood boil as this arrogant stranger openly disrespected Michael Ashworth—one of Veridia City''s most respected figures. The dangerous heat of anger coursed through my veins, threatening to shatter myposure.


    Michael''s face remained dignified despite the insult, but I could see how the confrontation was draining his already limited strength.


    "Young man," Michael said calmly, "there''s no need for hostility. We''re simply trying to purchase tickets like everyone else."


    The man—who I''dter learn was named Brandon Lee—scoffed and turned back to the ticket seller. "I said I want all the remaining tickets."


    "That''s impossible, sir," the seller replied nervously. "We need to amodate all passengers."


    Brandon mmed more money on the counter. "Does this make it possible?"


    I stepped forward, positioning myself between Brandon and Michael. "That''s enough."


    Brandon''s eyes narrowed as he sized me up. "What are you going to do about it, boyfriend?"


    Hispanion snickered behind him, feeding his arrogance.


    "Apologize to Mr. Ashworth," I demanded, my voice low but firm.


    Something flickered in Brandon''s eyes at the mention of the Ashworth name, but his pride wouldn''t allow him to back down. Instead, he leaned closer, smirking.


    "Tell you what," he said, loud enough for nearby passengers to hear. "I''ll sell you one ticket—but only if your girlfriend agrees to have dinner with me tonight."


    Isabelle''s face flushed with anger. "Excuse me?"


    "You heard me, beautiful. Ditch this loser and spend the evening with a real man." Brandon''s gaze traveled down her body suggestively. "I promise you won''t regret it."


    The sound of the p echoed through the terminal before I''d even realized my hand had moved. Brandon stumbled backward, his cheek instantly reddening from the impact. Shock registered on his face, quickly reced by murderous rage. This content originates from *, My Virtual Library Empire.</abbr>


    "You hit me," he sputtered in disbelief. "Do you have any idea who I am?"


    I stood my ground, unflinching. "Someone who needs to learn respect."


    Hispanion tugged urgently at Brandon''s sleeve. "Brandon, let''s go. That''s Michael Ashworth—the Michael Ashworth."


    Brandon shrugged him off, his eyes locked on mine. "I don''t care if he''s the emperor himself. Nobody hits me and walks away."


    The terminal security began pushing through the crowd, drawn by themotion.


    "My uncle owns half of North Province Ind," Brandon hissed. "You''re dead, you hear me? Dead!"


    The ticket seller, sensing the escting tension, quickly intervened. "Sir, I can sell you three tickets for the next ferry. Please—there''s no need for trouble."


    Brandon jabbed a finger in my direction. "This isn''t over. Not by a long shot." He stormed off, shoving through the gathered onlookers with hispanion hurrying after him.


    Michael ced a steady hand on my arm. "That was unnecessary, Liam."


    I turned to face him, still seething. "He disrespected you and harassed Isabelle. I couldn''t let that stand."


    Isabelle stepped closer, her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and gratitude. "Grandfather''s right, though. We''re supposed to be having a rxing day."


    "And we will," I promised, turning to the ticket seller. "Three tickets, please."


    As I paid for our passage, I couldn''t shake the uneasy feeling that Brandon''s threat wasn''t empty. Something told me we''d see him again before the day was through.


    ---


    The ferry ride to North Province Ind was peaceful, the gentle rocking of the boat and the sea breeze seemingly revitalizing Michael. He sat on the upper deck, face turned toward the sun, looking more at ease than I''d seen him in weeks.


    "I used to bring Isabelle here when she was small," Michael reminisced, watching the ind growrger on the horizon. "She would collect seashells along the eastern shore."


    Isabelle smiled at the memory. "And you would pretend they were treasures from mermaid kingdoms."


    I observed them quietly, savoring the rare moment of joy between grandfather and granddaughter. Yet I couldn''t fully rx, my senses heightened after the confrontation at the terminal. Every time someone walked past us, I tensed, half-expecting to see Brandon''s smug face.


    The ferry docked with a gentle bump against the pier. As we disembarked, I took in the ind''s lush beauty—rolling hills covered in emerald vegetation, quaint buildings along the waterfront, and the distant peak of a small mountain rising from the ind''s center.


    "The air here feels different," Imented, noticing the unusual density of the qi surrounding us. "It''s thicker, more concentrated."


    Michael nodded approvingly. "You have good instincts, Liam. This ind sits at the intersection of three major energy meridians. The ancients considered it sacred ground."


    We strolled down the main street, with Michael pointing outndmarks and sharing stories from past visits. Despite his frailty, his eyes sparkled with life as he revisited cherished memories.


    "There," Isabelle said, pointing to a charming tea house set back from the road. "That looks like a perfect spot to rest."


    The tea house was built in traditional style, its wooden beams weathered by decades of sea air. Inside, papernterns cast a warm glow over low tables, and the aroma of premium tea filled the air.


    A hostess led us to a private alcove overlooking a small garden. Michael sank gratefully onto the cushioned seat, his exhaustion evident despite his attempts to hide it.


    "You should try the Eight Treasures tea," Michael told us as we settled in. "It''s a local specialty—quite revitalizing."


    After cing our order, I studied our surroundings carefully. The tea house was moderately busy, mostly filled with tourists and a few locals. Nothing seemed immediately concerning, but I couldn''t shake my unease.


    "Liam," Isabelle said softly, cing her hand over mine. "Try to rx. We''re here to enjoy ourselves, remember?"


    I forced a smile. "You''re right. I''m sorry."


    The tea arrived—a fragrant brew served in delicate porcin cups. Michael closed his eyes as he took his first sip, savoring the vor.


    "Just as I remembered," he sighed contentedly.


    For a brief moment, it seemed the day might unfold peacefully after all. But that illusion shattered when the tea house door mmed open, and five men in matching dark suits strode in.


    The lead man—tall and broad-shouldered with a thin scar across his left cheek—scanned the room until his gaze locked on our table. A cold smile spread across his face as he approached, hispanions fanning out behind him.


    "Mr. Ashworth," he said with exaggerated politeness. "What a surprise to find you on our little ind."


    Michael set down his teacup, his expression neutral. "I don''t believe we''ve been introduced."


    "My name is Morales," the man replied, cing both hands on our table and leaning forward. "I work for Mr. Lee—the owner of the Northern Star Hotel chain and several other... enterprises on this ind."


    My jaw tightened. So Brandon had wasted no time contacting his uncle''s people.


    "And what can we do for you, Mr. Morales?" Michael asked, his voice betraying nothing.


    Morales''s gaze shifted to me. "My employer''s nephew described an unfortunate incident at the ferry terminal. Something about a man who doesn''t know his ce."


    I met his stare unflinchingly. "If you''re referring to the man who insulted Mr. Ashworth and harassed his granddaughter, then yes, there was an incident."


    Morales''s smile never reached his eyes. "Brandon can be... impulsive. But he is family. And on this ind, the Lee family deserves respect."


    "Respect is earned," I replied evenly. "Not demanded."


    One of Morales''spanions stepped forward, his hand moving toward his jacket, but Morales stopped him with a subtle gesture.


    "Mr. Lee would like to speak with you personally," Morales continued. "To resolve this misunderstanding."


    Michael set his cup down with deliberate calm. "There''s no misunderstanding. My granddaughter was harassed, and this young man defended her honor. If your employer wishes to speak with me, he can make a proper appointment through my office in Veridia City."


    Morales''s expression hardened. "I don''t think you understand the situation, Mr. Ashworth. This isn''t a request."


    I stood slowly, positioning myself between Michael, Isabelle, and the men. "We''re not going anywhere with you."


    The tea house had fallen silent, the other patrons watching the confrontation with wide eyes. A few had discreetly slipped out the back door.


    "Very well," Morales said, straightening. "If you insist on doing this the hard way..."


    He nodded to his men, who began spreading out to surround our table.


    Michael rose to his feet with surprising steadiness. "Do you know who I am, young man?"


    "A wealthy old man far from home," Morales replied coldly.


    "I am Michael Ashworth," he stated, his voice carrying the weight of his name. "And if your employer has any sense at all, he''ll call you off immediately."


    For the first time, uncertainty flickered across Morales''s face. The Ashworth name carried weight even here.


    Just then, a phone rang. One of the men answered it, listened briefly, then approached Morales and whispered in his ear.


    Morales''s expression shifted as he received what appeared to be new instructions. When he turned back to us, his smile had returned—colder than before.


    "It seems Mr. Lee''s nephew would like to handle this personally," he announced. "He''s on his way."


    Less than five minutester, Brandon Lee strutted into the tea house, his face still bearing the red mark of my p. His eyes burned with vindictive satisfaction when he saw us cornered.


    "Well, well," he drawled, approaching our table. "Look who couldn''t resist visiting my family''s ind."


    I remained standing, my body tense and ready. "We''re trying to enjoy a peaceful day. I suggest you do the same—elsewhere."


    Brandonughed, an ugly sound devoid of humor. "You pped me in public. Did you think there wouldn''t be consequences?"


    "Your behavior deserved worse," I replied.


    His face darkened with rage. "You have no idea who you''re dealing with."


    "A spoiled child hiding behind his uncle''s reputation," Michael interjected, his voice cutting. "How disappointing."


    Brandon''s attention snapped to Michael. "The famous Michael Ashworth," he sneered. "Not so powerful here, are you? My uncle runs this ind. Your name means nothing."


    "Then perhaps your uncle shoulde speak to me himself," Michael suggested calmly. "I doubt he''d approve of harassing visitors who contribute significantly to the ind''s economy."


    Brandon''s face flushed with anger. He turned to Morales. "Take them—both of them! The old man too!"


    "Sir?" Morales looked momentarily uncertain.


    "You heard me!" Brandon snarled. "First, lock them up and then take your time dealing with them!"