After the Storm subsided, Xie Family members immediately whisked Xie Qi away.
The incident of an S-Grade Combat System esper losing control and sparking a riot at the Gongguan would have shot straight to the top of social news headlines if word got out. But the Xie Family handled the intelligence lockdown with practiced ease, always nipping such matters in the bud.
Not that the Gongguan was ever a place meant to stand openly under public scrutiny anyway. Everyone there was in the same boat, mutually restrained—most lacked the guts or desire to step forward and stir trouble.
Of course, fooling the Secret Tower entirely was impossible.
Once the riot had erupted, the focus shouldn’t have been on concealment but on “damage control,” scrambling to prove the esper’s controllability from other angles. That was why Wen Jiang had initially considered a quick, decisive clash—pitting his Supernatural Ability head-on to forcibly suppress Xie Qi.
In the end, he hadn’t gone that route, but he’d still played a pivotal role in the cleanup phase.
Xie Qi’s rampage had been a grand spectacle, wrecking the Gongguan and even triggering meteorological anomalies. Fortunately, the situation was brought under control swiftly, with zero significant casualties—the few minor cases didn’t even register, rounding off to nothing.
A riot in such a densely packed crowd, and yet everyone walked away unscathed. Wasn’t that a twisted kind of proof of self-control?
Moreover, Xie Qi had shut down his Storm through sheer force of will at the last moment, smoothing the follow-up handling immensely. These were solid bargaining chips for negotiating with the Secret Tower. The Xie Family secretary had arrived pale as a ghost, but after reviewing the data reports and chatting specifics with Wen Jiang, his color returned. He even shot Wen Jiang a look tinged with gratitude.
The outlook wasn’t rosy, but it wasn’t utterly hopeless either. Wen Jiang crossed paths with the Xie Family butler, exchanging a handshake amid a barrage of thanks.
The elites lingering at the Gongguan to handle the aftermath were sharp—they pieced together that Xie Qi’s restraint tied back to Wen Jiang, spotting a potential “opportunity” in the process.
The Xie Family doctor who’d tagged along—Wen Jiang suspected he was the one who’d proposed the “relief therapy”—eyed him like a miracle cure. But perhaps the timing and venue were off, or maybe he guessed it’d enrage the young master if he pushed it, so he held back from approaching Wen Jiang to discuss future “assistance.”
Wen Jiang underwent a physical exam and preliminary questioning. He watched as they jabbed the unconscious Xie Qi with another sedative shot before loading him into a vehicle. He overheard Xie Family reps haggling with the Secret Tower’s interim liaison over Xie Qi’s destination. More people trickled in steadily, livening up the Gongguan once more.
Wen Jiang spotted his three familiar poker buddies. Reps from the Wen Family, Lin Family, Jiang Family, and even Qian Family were on site. He didn’t know the others well, but he exchanged a few words with the Qian Family folks—they’d rushed over on Qian Lang’s emergency orders. Spotting Wen Jiang, they apologized with a quick “Our apologies,” then clustered around for a once-over and basic checkup.
As the key figure at the Storm’s epicenter, Wen Jiang’s physical and mental state drew intense scrutiny. Some might’ve hoped for severe injuries—or at least some mental trauma from the horrors witnessed. Too bad Wen Jiang stayed cool as ice. His calm wasn’t feigned; no amount of piercing stares could catch a single tremor, quiver in his voice, or shaky micro-expression.
It was downright odd. He’d been closest to the Storm, should’ve witnessed the most brutality, yet he looked like he’d just taken a casual afternoon stroll.
As an actor accustomed to the spotlight, Wen Jiang showed zero unease or stiffness amid the crowd. In the end, onlookers on the fringes could only muse over his striking features or speculate on his tie to Xie Qi.
Others outright hoped he’d emerge unscathed. The Xie Family doctor beamed post-exam. The Qian Family crew sighed in relief afterward, joking that they could finally report back to the young master without issue.
As for the other three families, in some clichéd storybook tale, this scene might’ve screamed classic “one house in crisis, rivals swoop in for the kill”—slapping on tags like “corporate warfare,” “power plays,” “feuding dynasties,” or “elite vendettas.” But reality felt far simpler.
Lin Xun pushed through the crowd first, asking after Wen Jiang with a grave, tense expression. To many there, it was a rare sight—the Lin Family heir acting this way was unheard of, unprecedented prime gossip fodder for the next week. Pity the other key player seemed oblivious.
Wen Jiang was busy replying to Qian Lang’s texts. The guy had been terrified—calls unanswered, he’d bombarded him with messages. Wen Jiang updated him on Xie Qi’s status, parroting the butler’s reassurances for comfort.
Wen Jiang: I’m fine too.
Wen Jiang: Little dino pat on the head.jpg
Lin Xun chattered incessantly at his side like a twittering bird. Wen Jiang had no bandwidth for him right now, nor for coddling the Lin heir’s ego. He went with the most efficient tack, not even glancing up: “Shut up.”
He paused, then added matter-of-factly: “And don’t cause trouble.”
Things were chaotic enough—no need for “elite vendetta” drama.
The Lin Family entourage’s eyes bugged out. Lin Xun froze, then rubbed his nose, a faint unnatural flush creeping up his face.
Heaven and earth as witness, he knew damn well this wasn’t the time or place for blushing or funny ideas. But it was a reflex he’d picked up lately, barely under his control. Out in public, he reined it in somewhat compared to private moments.
He started to say something else but ended up meekly replying, “Got it,” and clamping his mouth shut in front of his own people.
Wen Tianlu shot him a cool sidelong glance, finding the whole thing repulsive.
“You’re next,” Wen Jiang said flatly, scrolling his phone, his words pointed.
The Wen Family reps kept their eyes down, pretending nothing happened. Wen Tianlu paused, then curved his eyes into a soft smile, beaming as he replied, “Sure thing.”
Jiang Hehu glared at them both with blatant disgust, like You two are gross.
Jiang Hehu waited silently for two beats, but Wen Jiang offered no follow-up. He blinked in disbelief, then visibly bristled with irritation.
Before he could erupt, Wen Jiang—who’d just fired off his last message—looked up at him. Jiang Hehu’s brewing words twisted in his mouth. He scowled warily: “What?!”
……What the hell are you doing? Wen Jiang stared at him deadpan.
Jiang Hehu halted a beat, then barreled on self-assuredly, casual tone masking everything: “Yeah, yeah, I know. As if I’d do anything!”
The other Jiang Family arrivals didn’t dare breathe.
Wen Jiang gave a level “Mm.”
He wasn’t banking on verbal promises to fix everything, but they beat nothing.
Behind them, the Xie Family doctor and secretary exchanged glances amid the mounting stress. They latched onto a light diversion—a chance to steal a breather and clear their heads. The doctor couldn’t resist nudging the secretary: “This must be the young master’s……”
Unsure how to label Wen Jiang’s role, the secretary got it instantly and nodded vigorously, laden with implication: “Exactly. The young master took him to the ‘Birthday Gift.'”
The doctor nodded knowingly, mirroring the secretary’s gossip-hungry glint.
That deliberate, restrained flirtiness—toned down only for public eyes, treating onlookers as props in their game, all winks and subtle moves that made brows furrow—stood worlds apart from crisp, distanced commands.
Pre-incident assumptions screamed cheating scandal, post-incident pegging Wen Jiang and that irrelevant celeb as treacherous lovers. But after digging in, things looked surprisingly clean… and oopsie-daisy.
This guy—er, future young madam? Young mister? Whatever—clearly had poise. The type who might just keep the household in check one day…
The butler cleared his throat lowly, cutting their eyeing: “Time for us to take our leave.”
He regarded Wen Jiang, his gaze softening, sensing some unspoken emotion behind that impassive face.
Or maybe it didn’t matter if he couldn’t read it. Either way, Wen Jiang’s actions showed genuine care—no deceit.
Sure, Wen Jiang had helped immensely, but one could argue Xie Qi might not have lost it if Wen Jiang hadn’t shown up. That was illogical, like choking on a fishbone while watching dancers, then executing the chef and all distractions. The Xie Family didn’t roll like tyrannical emperors—at least not with potential “family.”
“No need to worry overly,” the butler told Wen Jiang. “As the young master’s good friend, we’ll contact you the moment he wakes.”
“Friend,” huh.
What kind of “friend” stood at the eye of the Storm?
Reactions varied. Lin Xun stayed neutral, Wen Tianlu kept smiling, Jiang Hehu scoffed. No one chimed in. Eyes crossed openly and covertly onto Wen Jiang. He blinked, nodded, and said: “Appreciate it.”
Post-rain leaves gleamed fresh green. Outside the Gongguan gates, the pool lay in wind-ravaged chaos—debris and unidentifiable shards strewn everywhere. Xie Family drove Wen Jiang home. Even after leaving, he caught faint damp rain scent in the air.
He figured he wouldn’t see Xie Qi for a few days.
But eventually, they’d meet again.
