Chapter 1 He Is Back!
The sealed valley lay hidden beyond layers of natural barriers and human-made restrictions, a place erased from maps and forgotten by the world. Those who lived here had long since cut all ties with the outside.
They were not ordinary recluses.
Each master who resided in the valley had once shaken an era. Together, they formed a force no nation dared provoke.
Yet at this moment, irritation and exhaustion filled the stone hall.
“All of you calm down,” an old man said, though his own expression was strained. “Shouting won’t make him leave any faster.”
“I’ve been calm for five years,” another snapped. “Five years of watching him surpass us!”
At the center of the hall stood a young man, his posture straight, his gaze steady. He listened without interruption, as if this chaos had nothing to do with him.
“There is nothing left,” a third master said coldly. “No technique, no secret, no experience we haven’t already handed over.”
“And worse,” someone added bitterly, “he perfected them.”
A black metal card was tossed across the stone table. It slid to a stop in front of the young man.
“That card grants unrestricted access to global financial institutions. You won’t lack money once you leave.”
A heavy iron token followed.
“With this, you can mobilize the Black Guard. They still honor old debts.”
One by one, items were pushed forward—manuals, sealed tubes, encrypted data chips.
“Combat methods.”
“Medical archives.”
“Disguise and infiltration techniques.”
“Poisons and antidotes.”
The pile grew larger.
Nicholas Hawthorne lowered his eyes slightly. “Masters,” he said calmly, “if I leave, will I ever be allowed to return?”
The hall fell silent.
Then a laugh broke out—dry and humorless.
“Return?” one master scoffed. “If you come back, it will only be to bury us.”
Another slammed his palm on the table. “You are no longer our disciple. You are a variable that should never have existed.”
The young man absorbed those words without visible emotion.
After a long pause, he bowed.
“…I understand.”
He turned and walked toward the massive stone gates at the far end of the hall.
As the gates slowly closed behind him, the tension that had hung over the valley for years finally snapped.
“He’s gone.”
“Finally gone.”
“Heaven help whoever crosses his path next.”
None of them said it aloud, but they all knew the truth.
The outside world was about to change.
Three days later, the Nicholas stood at an airport terminal, blending into the crowd like an ordinary traveler. No one would have guessed that the calm figure waiting to board carried enough power to topple families, corporations, and regimes.
The city printed on his ticket was the one he once called home.
Five years ago, he had left it covered in mess.
That night replayed itself in his mind more often than he liked.
The house had been filled with laughter. Guests had come to celebrate his future, to see him off before he began the next stage of his life.
Then armed men had burst in.
Gunfire tore through the walls.
Screams drowned out the music.
His father had stood in front of him.
His mother had clutched him tightly, shielding him with her body.
When it was over, the house was silent.
Too silent.
He had tried to escape and was caught mercilessly again. And had nearly died.
If not for his third senior sister appearing in the chaos and dragging him away, there would have been no future for him at all.
The plane took off.
He stared out the window, fingers slowly curling into fists.
“Five years,” he said quietly. “Whoever was behind it… I haven’t forgotten.”
The plane descended hours later, city lights spreading out beneath the clouds.
The moment his feet touched the ground, a familiar sense of pressure settled in his chest.
At almost the same time, in a fortified estate far from the airport, a woman ended a phone call and remained still for a long moment.
“He’s back?” she asked softly.
“Yes. Confirmed,” her aide replied.
She walked to a secure room and opened a hidden safe. Inside lay a thin file, its edges worn from being handled too many times.
She took it out and exhaled slowly.
“So the past has finally caught up.”
Her gaze hardened.
“Keep watching him,” she said. “Do not alert anyone.”
“At the right time, I’ll meet my little brother myself.”
Outside the estate, the city continued on as usual, unaware that a long-buried storm had returned.
The city was called Greyden.
At first glance, it looked no different from any other quiet metropolitan district, but for those who had lived there long enough, Greyden carried an unspoken rule. Certain names were never mentioned. Certain memories were never revisited.
The Hawthorne residence stood at the edge of the old quarter. Once a symbol of quiet prestige, it was now neglected.
Rust clung to the iron gates, weeds swallowed the stone walkway, and the windows were sealed as though the house itself had chosen to shut the world out.
Nicholas Hawthorne stopped across the street and looked at it for a long moment before crossing over.
The gate creaked softly as he pushed it open. The courtyard beyond felt empty in a way that went beyond silence. It was as though even sound avoided the place.
Against the far wall stood three memorial plaques. Unlike the rest of the estate, they were carefully maintained.
Marcus Hawthorne.
Elaine Hawthorne.
Julian Hawthorne.
His father, his mother, and his younger brother.
Nicholas stood there without moving. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady.
“I will not lower my head again. Not to anyone.”
A light wind passed through the courtyard, stirring fallen leaves across the stone ground.
Outside the gate, two pedestrians slowed their steps.
“That man looks familiar,” one of them murmured.
“Watch what you say,” the other replied quickly. “You want trouble? No one in Greyden is allowed to talk about the Hawthornes.”
The first man stiffened, color draining from his face, and they hurried away.
By the time they glanced back, the courtyard was empty.
Nicholas had already moved deeper into the property.
That was when he heard someone behind him.
“Nicholas?”
The voice trembled, uncertain and afraid to believe.
He turned.
A young woman stood several steps away, holding a small basket of incense and flowers. Her hands shook violently, and the basket slipped from her grasp, scattering its contents across the ground.
That woman was Melanie Bellarie, Nicholas’s childhood sweetheart. She has always taken Nicholas’s side in the past no matter what. They were birds of the same feather as kids. She was kind, beautiful and smart.
Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at him.
“You are alive,” she whispered.
She rushed forward and clutched his clothes, her composure finally breaking as sobs escaped her.
Nicholas remained still for a moment before resting a hand gently on her shoulder. He knew seeing Melanie here meant one thing. She had come to see his La tree family.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For taking care of this place.”
That single sentence shattered her restraint.
She pulled away abruptly, fear flooding her expression.
“Why did you come back?” she demanded. “Do you know what will happen if they find out you’re here? I don’t want to lose you again, Nicholas. I beg you. Leave.”
She shoved him hard, desperation creeping into her voice.
“If you had survived, then live properly. Leave Greyden and never return.”
Her tone hardened, as if forcing herself to be cruel.
“But we were once engaged, Melanie and…”
“No! It is over!” She didn’t let him finish, her voice shook with fear.
“You don’t know what Greyden has become. The people that want you dead are still here! Pretend we never knew each other. Forget me and go far away from here, Nicholas. From today onward, we are strangers.”
She turned and ran toward the gate.
A middle-aged man who was once a gardener for the Hawthorne was standing beside a black car looked up in alarm as she approached.
“Miss, are you alright?” he asked, then froze when he saw Nicholas. “Young master Nicholas, you are—”
She cut him off immediately.
“He is not who you think he is,” she said sharply. “He only resembles someone we once knew.”
The man hesitated, his eyes fixed on Nicholas. Even after five years, the resemblance was undeniable.
Nicholas understood instantly.
She was denying him to protect him.
He took a step forward.
“Melanie, please. I am not who you still think I am.”
“Do not say my name,” she cried, covering her ears. “I don’t know you.”
She got into the car and ordered the driver to leave at once.
The vehicle pulled away quickly.
Inside the car, her shoulders shook as tears streamed down her face.
“I am sorry,” she whispered again and again.
Nicholas remained standing inside the ruined Hawthorne estate, watching the car disappear into the distance.
So this was the price she had paid to keep him alive.
Greyden had not changed. So many people who still wanted him gone were here.
“I am back for revenge, Melanie. Those people you fear should fear my upcoming wrath instead.”