The Art Of Corporate Self-Destraction

I was born with a silver coffin. A legacy forged not in gold, but in contracts, lawsuits, and corporate blood. My name is Lu Siyan, heir to the empire of the demon-king known as Father. An empire built on broken backs, smiling fangs, and boardroom executions. And today—today is the day it all begins to fall. Not with victory. Not with power. But with something far more terrifying. Failure. Glorious, theatrical, headline-worthy failure. The kind that unravels dynasties, bankrupts legacies, and makes shareholders weep into golden tissues. My vengeance is not a sword—it’s a balance sheet hemorrhaging red ink. They thought I was weak. A drama-addled heir, born to inherit, not dismantle. They were wrong. I will lose with such magnificence, even the economy will collapse in awe. And when my father sees the empire he built rot from the inside, devoured by the chaos he raised? He’ll understand. This is not rebellion. This is performance art in flames. Call it insanity. Call it legacy. I call it Act One.