Chapter 7: The Shadow of the Hidden Clans
High above the city, in an office that looked more like a fortress command center than a place of business, Theodore Sterling sat paralyzed. His phone vibrated incessantly on the glass desk. On the screen was a private, encrypted chat group—a digital sanctuary for the three primary Shareholders of the Golden Dragon Group. Sterling wasn't just a manager; he was one of the owners, a man who moved the strings of the city's economy.
Sterling took a shaky breath and began typing, his fingers flying across the screen.
[Sterling]: We have a situation, guys. A student just deposited 100 million in liquid cash for a membership. Name: Ethan McCain. Verified fingerprint authorized. He's currently in the Jade Pavilion.
The silence that followed was heavy. Then, the first reply flickered onto the screen from Elder Lu, the silent patriarch of the group whose family had controlled the region's shipping lanes for a century.
[Elder Lu]: 100 million? Liquid? No credit line from a major bank? No loan?
[Sterling]: Direct transfer. My speculation... he's from 'Those Families.' The ones who don't show up on Forbes lists.
The third member, Madam Vane, who was known to have deep ties to the international intelligence community, finally spoke. Her words carried a weight that made Sterling's blood run cold.
[Madam Vane]: The Hidden Families. The 'True Sovereigns.' If he is one of them, Sterling, you are standing on a landmine. Do you know what happens when you provoke a scion of the Hidden Clans? They don't sue you. They don't compete with you. They erase you. I once saw a billionaire in the North try to outbid a hidden scion for a relic. Within forty-eight hours, his company was bankrupt, his children were expelled from their schools, and he vanished. They have means that transcend the law—private militias, shadow banks, and influence that reaches into the very heart of the capital. If he is one of them, do not make an enemy of him. Even if you cannot be his friend, treat him like a god.
[Elder Lu]: Vane is right. They often send their young ones out for 'Worldly Tempering'—living as paupers to understand the value of power. If this Ethan McCain is undergoing his trial, and you interfere... the Golden Dragon will be ashes by morning.
Sterling's heart jolted. He remembered that Ethan was only in the Jade Pavilion—the third-ranked room. If he were a true scion, being placed in anything less than the Imperial Solar Chamber by the hotel staff was a hidden insult.
"Damn it!" Sterling hissed. He stood up so fast his chair flipped over. He didn't wait for the elevator; he sprinted for the private stairs, his mind racing. Is he testing us? Is he waiting to see if we recognize his status?
Inside the Jade Pavilion, the air was still. Ethan sat at the head of the table, his posture naturally upright. The 1 point in Body had done more than just strengthen his muscles; it had given him an "Aura." It was an invisible pressure, a sense of absolute gravity that seemed to pull the very air toward him.
The heavy mahogany doors creaked open. Theodore Sterling entered, his face pale and a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. As the Shareholder walked toward the table, he felt a sudden weight on his shoulders. He looked at the young man sitting there and froze.
In the file Vance had sent him, Ethan McCain was described as a "malnourished, scholarship student." But the man before him had skin that glowed with health, eyes that held a terrifying, golden depth, and a presence that suggested he owned the very ground Sterling stood on. This is an aura, Sterling thought, his legs feeling weak. This is something only those born in the highest peaks of power can exude.
"Mr. Sterling, I presume?" Ethan said, his voice calm, vibrating with that new, metallic resonance.
"Y-yes, Mr. McCain. Please, forgive my late arrival," Sterling said, bowing lower than he had ever done. Even he didn't think he could be so humble; he realized it was his survival instinct at play.
"Sit. Join me for a drink," Ethan gestured to the chair opposite him.
Sterling sat down tentatively. He signaled for a waiter to bring a bottle of 'The Dragon's Breath'—a cognac that cost $50,000 a glass. As they sat, Sterling tried to navigate the conversation like a man walking through a minefield.
"It is rare to see someone of your... caliber at our university, Mr. McCain," Sterling began, watching Ethan's face for any twitch. "Most families of a certain standing—the Hidden Families, if you will—usually prefer private tutors or overseas academies."
Ethan kept quiet, swirling the cognac. Internally, he was shocked. Hidden Families? Private tutors? He had never heard of such things. But he realized Sterling was handing him a perfect cover story. He knew he couldn't let anyone know about the System, and an identity as a hidden scion would help cover the secret until he was powerful enough that nobody would want to mess with him.
He leaned back and gave a subtle, knowing reaction—a slight raise of his eyebrow and a thin, mysterious smile.
Sterling's heart nearly stopped. That's it! he thought. He really is from a Hidden Family. That reaction... it's the look of someone who finds the mention of his world amusing to an outsider.
"I prefer the quiet life for now," Ethan said softly. "The noise of the 'upper echelon' can be... tiresome."
Sterling nodded frantically. "Of course! A wise choice, sir. The Golden Dragon is honored to facilitate your stay."
Sterling thought to himself: At least I'll get to be your friend. Maybe I'll have a chance at competing for the position of Family Head. He was rich, but as the son of his father's third child, he had no advantage over his elder brother. The Shareholder group was just a way to survive—but with Ethan, there was a chance for total power.
They settled into a conversation. Sterling shared carefully curated anecdotes about the city's power structure. Ethan listened, absorbing every detail about the world he was about to conquer.
Suddenly, there was a slight, sharp knock on the door. It wasn't the respectful knock of a waiter. The door swung open, and Harrison Vance, the General Manager, walked in, his face tight with irritation. He had come to demand why Sterling was spending so much time with a "brat."
But the words died in his throat. He saw Sterling—a major Shareholder and his boss—conversing with the boy he thought of as a nobody. Sterling, who usually looked down on billionaires, was sitting on the edge of his seat like a nervous schoolboy. And across from him was Ethan, looking like a king presiding over his court.
"Mr. Theodore?" Vance stammered, his eyes darting between the two. "What is the meaning of this? Why are you in here with... him?"
Ethan didn't even look up from his glass. The aura in the room grew heavy, pressing against Vance's chest.
"Harrison," Sterling said, his voice cold and warned. "You are interrupting a private meeting with a VIP. I suggest you remember your place."
Vance's jaw dropped. Sterling had never spoken to his General Manager that way. He looked at Ethan, and for the first time, he felt a cold trickle of fear. The boy he had once dismissed as a "brat" was now the eye of a storm he wasn't sure he could survive.