The engagement was less than three weeks away.
But for someone like Vũ Ngạo Thiên, the closer the moment approached, the more violently the chessboard needed to tremble.
An ordinary man would want the woman he loved to live in peace.
A man driven by vengeance would want her to become useful.
Vũ Ngạo Thiên belonged to a third kind:
a man who both loved and hated — and knew how to turn love into an instrument.
And this was the stage he enjoyed most:
the craft of the game-maker.
The Second Tremor — Not Targeting Tống Group, but the "Heir"
Everything Ngạo Thiên had done before had merely been preliminary testing.
Small disturbances, like touching the surface of water to watch the ripples.
Now that he understood the depth, he struck deeper:
Dĩ Yến's position as heir.
That night, inside the financial control room of Vũ Holdings, a report file was dispatched containing only a single line of command:
"Activate minor satellite fluctuation – Level 2."
No one knew who sent it.
No one knew which server transmitted it.
No one knew whose hand stood behind it.
But forty-eight hours later, Tống Group staggered.
– Secondary capital flow stalled.
– A subsidiary expenditure was frozen.
– An overseas partner suddenly demanded "risk verification."
None of it fatal.
But enough to create panic.
At the shareholder meeting, tension burned like sunlight on steel.
"Where is the heir?"
"She must take responsibility."
"ÉCLAT is now a major division — she must answer for it."
Tống Hành wished to shield his daughter.
Yet he understood something deeper:
The moment Dĩ Yến accepted the title of heir, every problem within the conglomerate could point toward her.
He looked at her as one might look at a fragile seedling once protected from the wind —
now forced onto the battlefield.
He took her hand quietly.
"Yến… you must step forward."
Her eyes darkened.
But she nodded.
No one realized this was precisely the move Ngạo Thiên had anticipated.
No one else could save the situation.
She had to save herself.
Why Before the Engagement?
Because Ngạo Thiên wanted her to rise onto the stage as the goddess he had forged.
If the tremor came after the engagement, people would say he had helped her.
They would say she relied on the Vũ family.
He refused that narrative.
She had to prove her worth before entering the Vũ household.
A beautiful chess piece was not enough.
It had to possess strategic value.
ÉCLAT had grown powerful.
But within a conglomerate like Tống Group, she was still viewed as merely a young heir.
So he created the second tremor —
large enough, painful enough, real enough.
The board of directors had no choice but to push her to the center.
Soon headlines emerged:
"Can ÉCLAT stabilize Tống Group during this turbulence?"
"Does Tống Dĩ Yến possess true leadership capability?"
She was forced to stand.
To lead.
To rescue.
And when she succeeded, she would become the lifeline of Tống Group.
That was precisely what Ngạo Thiên wanted.
Tống Group must become dependent on ÉCLAT.
Which meant—
dependent on her.
And once the empire depended on her,
one day it would fall effortlessly into his hands.
No confrontation required.
No trace of manipulation.
No market disruption.
Only one authorization signed at the right moment.
A perfect chess piece.
Raised within the marketplace itself.
Dĩ Yến — Suspicious, Yet Moving Forward
Inside ÉCLAT's office, Dĩ Yến dropped a stack of documents onto the desk and exhaled deeply.
She knew the turbulence was not coincidence.
Two crises arriving precisely as she stepped forward — it was too perfect.
She wrote three hypotheses on paper:
1. Someone wants to destroy me.
2. Someone wants to test me.
3. Someone wants to elevate me.
She did not realize that the same person stood behind all three possibilities.
Ngạo Thiên.
That night he came to ÉCLAT while she was still working.
He placed a cup of hot tea before her.
"You've pushed yourself too hard."
His voice was gentle.
But behind his eyes was calculation.
She looked up.
"Do you think you know who's behind this?"
Ngạo Thiên did not answer immediately.
Instead, he placed his hand softly on her shoulder.
"It doesn't matter who it is.
What matters is that you can handle it."
An ordinary sentence.
Delivered at the perfect moment.
In the perfect tone.
She looked at him.
And in that moment—
she believed him.
He was the one who appeared when she was weakest.
The one who understood her pace.
The one who helped her rise again.
She did not know that he was the one who had pushed her onto the battlefield.
And the one who stood behind to lift her when she fell.
That was the art of the game-maker.
The puppet never sees the strings.
And the puppeteer never lets them show.
Ngạo Thần — The Mind That Hears the Cracks in the Board
From afar, Ngạo Thần monitored the entire situation.
He did not intervene — that was the boundary he maintained with his brother.
But his strategic mind rejected coincidence.
There was no such thing as:
– Tống Group shaking.
– ÉCLAT affected.
– Both stabilizing.
– Another tremor.
– Stability again at the perfect moment.
This was not luck.
It was deliberate influence.
He knew whose hand possessed such capability.
He knew it was not an outsider.
But he also knew this:
His brother never acted without reason.
There was always a principle.
Always a purpose.
And no matter how deeply he cared for Dĩ Yến, Ngạo Thần refused to condemn his brother without knowing the truth.
The Board Nears Completion
Ngạo Thiên watched everything unfold:
Every tremor.
Every reaction from Tống Group.
Every tear she shed.
All of it aligned precisely where he wanted.
She had stood alone.
She had saved ÉCLAT.
She had saved Tống Group.
She had proven her strength.
She had become the living artery of an empire.
Only one step remained.
One signature.
One perfect engagement night.
One marriage.
Then—
he would possess the true key.
The girl who loved him, trusted him, relied on him—
would unknowingly open the door.
And Tống Group would become the final piece.
Ngạo Thiên stood before the glass wall overlooking the city and smiled faintly.
"The board… is ready."
Message of Chapter 9
Some games are not played to win.
They are played to shape another person into the form the creator desires.
Once the opponent grows stronger along the path you have drawn,
the chessboard is no longer a battlefield—
it becomes a test of humanity.
And the price of that test always comes later.