The "Hidden Dragon" lounge was merely the foyer for the main event: a subterranean casino where the air smelled of expensive tobacco and high-stakes desperation. Chen Feng walked in with "Gary" (the former God of Wealth) stumbling behind him, still clutching a calculator like a holy relic.
"Listen, Gary," Chen Feng said, adjusting his charcoal-grey cuffs. "The problem with your spreadsheets is that you're treating money like a number. In this realm, wealth is a flow—a tide. You're trying to swim against it. Watch."
Chen Feng walked to the high-stakes roulette table. He didn't look at the wheel. He looked at the subtle tilt of the floor, the humidity in the air, and the rhythm of the croupier's wrist. He flicked a single 10,000-yuan chip onto 17 Black.
The wheel spun. The ball rattled like a trapped bird.
17 Black.
Gary's jaw hit the floor. "My Lord... that's a 35-to-1 payout. You didn't even use a Wealth-Gathering Array!"
"I didn't need to," Chen Feng whispered, pocketing the winnings and handing a stack of chips to the trembling accountant. "I just felt where the ball wanted to rest. Now, go buy a suit that doesn't smell like tax season. We have a 'Date' with the Ice Queen."
Lin Xuerui didn't do "dinner and a movie." Her idea of a date was a private tour of the Grand History Museum, which she had closed to the public for the evening.
They stood in the Hall of Ancient Relics, surrounded by shattered swords and rusted armor. Xuerui looked at Chen Feng, her icy blue eyes reflecting the dim museum lights.
"Your theory about love being a Wi-Fi signal," she began, her voice echoing in the marble hall. "It's cynical. You speak as if a connection is something that just happens to you, rather than something you build."
Chen Feng leaned against the display case of a broken bronze tripod. "Building requires a foundation, Xuerui. You are a woman who wants to freeze time so nothing can hurt you. I am a man who has seen time collapse and realized that nothing is permanent."
"Then why did you help me?" she asked, stepping closer. For a moment, the temperature in the room plummeted. The "Ice Queen" was losing control of her inner chill.
"You healed me. You see through the facades. You act like a man waiting for a bus that will never come, yet you have the hands of someone who could move mountains."
Chen Feng looked at her. For a split second, the sarcasm vanished. "Because the bus already came, Xuerui. It was called the Reset. I'm just enjoying the peace of the station."
The silence was shattered not by a gadget, but by the heavy, rhythmic thud of a sledgehammer hitting the museum's rear security door.
Six men in black tactical gear burst into the hall. These weren't the clumsy thugs from the street; they moved with the coordinated grace of professional mercenaries. They didn't have fancy energy weapons—they had suppressed submachine guns and combat knives.
"Get behind the statue!" Chen Feng commanded, shoving Xuerui toward a granite depiction of a forgotten general.
The assassins ignored the priceless artifacts. They moved in a pincer formation, their target clear: Chen Feng.
One of the men, a giant with a scarred face, stepped forward, discarding his firearm for a heavy broadsword that looked suspiciously like a relic from the old world. He looked at Chen Feng with a grimace of recognition.
"The 'Sovereign' is living quite the life," the giant growled. "But the world didn't reset for you to play house, Chen Feng. It reset so the real powers could take what you were too soft to keep. We aren't here for the Su Group's money. We're here to make sure the old era stays buried."
"You're working for someone who remembers the Nine Heavens," Chen Feng realized, his eyes narrowing. "A 'Remnant' who thinks they can rule this new, fragile world through fear."
The giant lunged, the heavy sword whistling through the air.
Chen Feng didn't dodge. He caught the blade between two fingers—not with a flash of light, but with the perfect, terrifying precision of a master who knew exactly where the metal was weakest.
Snap.
The ancient steel shattered like glass. Chen Feng stepped inside the giant's guard and tapped him lightly on the chest. The man flew backward, smashing through a row of display cases before landing in a heap of broken pottery.
The other five assassins froze. They looked at their broken leader, then at the man in the charcoal suit who hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Leave," Chen Feng said, his voice dropping to a tone that made the very air in the museum feel heavy. "Tell your 'Master' that I don't care about his plans for world domination. But if he interrupts my lunch or scares my friends again, I will stop being a 'Salted Fish' and start being a fisherman. And he won't like the hook."
The assassins scrambled to pick up their leader and fled into the night.
Lin Xuerui stepped out from behind the statue, her face pale. She looked at the shattered sword on the floor, then at Chen Feng.
"They weren't just killers," she whispered. "They knew you."
"They knew a ghost," Chen Feng said, picking up a shard of the broken blade and turning it over in his hand. "It seems my retirement is being interrupted by a fan club from the past."
He looked at Gary, who had popped his head out from behind a sarcophagus. "Gary! Stop hiding. We need to find out who's funding these 'Remnants.' And tell Xiao Bo to bring the moped. I have a feeling I'm going to need a lot of caffeine for what's coming next."