19. The Birth of Obsession
Chapter nineteen
The Birth of Obsession
Lei
I stood in front of my bedroom window.
The vast expanse of glass stretched from floor to ceiling, framing the East.
It’s starting.
Below, the Palace grounds teemed with life, a spectacle that seemed almost otherworldly.
The crowd stretched far beyond the Palace gates; a sea of faces turned upward toward the towering estate.
From this height, I couldn’t see their expressions clearly, but I didn’t need to.
I could hear them.
“ Welcome, Mountain Mistress!”
“We love you!”
“We support you! ”
The crowds swelled in every direction, and their voices rose in a rhythmic chant.
“We love you!”
It wasn’t just noise—it was massive respect.
Devotion.
Love.
And even shockingly, they chanted in English, not Mandarin, a choice that struck me as deeply as the sight itself because the East never bent its traditions for anyone—not for politicians, not for allies, not even for enemies.
But for her, for Moni, they had made an exception.
A sad smile spread across my face.
I wish she could see this.
They spoke in English because they wanted her to receive their messages deep down in her bones, to understand that she was not merely accepted but absolutely embraced.
She will be bigger than Mom.
I directed my view to the right.
Below, the Palace entrance was blanketed in flowers—wild arrangements of peonies, chrysanthemums, and plum blossoms laid out in a vibrant mosaic of reds, blues, golds, and whites.
Some had been placed with care.
Others had been scattered in fervent haste, offerings made with trembling hands and beating hearts.
Small notes were tied to many of the stems, and their messages undoubtedly were as personal as the gestures themselves.
I lifted my view a few inches.
Near the front gates even more crowds gathered and piled gifts there. From what I could make out, it was mainly exquisite silks, handwoven tapestries, and carved jade figurines.
I turned to the left.
Vendors lined the outskirts.
Chen had told me that they were selling tea blends inspired by Moni’s signature mix from the tea ceremony. An official list of what herbs she had used was never put out, yet still lines of people wound around the vendors, waiting to sip what they believed was a piece of her essence.
I let out a long sigh and looked at the signs.
Hand-painted banners, lovingly detailed, some bearing Moni’s name in sweeping calligraphy, others adorned with her likeness. They’d captured her perfectly—those wide, expressive eyes that held fire and vulnerability all at once, her delicate jaw, the faint curl of her full lips that hinted at a knowing smile.
The East—it seemed—had fallen in love with her.
Dear God, Father. You fucking did it.
A deep ache stirred in my chest as emotions surged.
Pride.
Fear.
Possessiveness.
Yes. It’s definitely starting. . .their obsession for her.
I knew how this would unfold because I had lived it once before. I had watched the East’s obsession try to consume my mother.
The adoration.
The worship.
The lengths people would go to just to catch a glimpse of her or earn a fleeting smile.
While it had been intoxicating to take in, it was also terrifying too. People who claimed they loved a person they didn’t even know could also be the most dangerous, their devotion serving as a double-edged sword.
I won’t let that happen to Moni, just as my father didn’t let it happen to Mom.
I put my view back on the chanters who had been yelling out the same things for over an hour now with no break in sight.
Some even cried and fell to their knees.
“ Welcome, Mountain Mistress!”
“We love you!”
“We support you! ”
How much will they lose themselves in her? And most important. . .do they know I don’t like the idea of sharing her with even the East?
Those thoughts made my jaw clench.
My mom had once commanded this same level of reverence.
People had flocked to her, desperate for her words, a touch of her hand. They had written songs in her honor, painted murals, named their children after her.
And when that wasn’t enough, they had turned her into something more than human—a symbol, an ideal, a goddess.
But obsession wasn’t love.
It was a poison.
I thought of the letters, the desperate pleas scrawled in trembling handwriting, the gifts that had been left on our doorstep—some beautiful, others disturbing.
And the threats. The ones that had come when she didn’t meet their impossible expectations.
Would they do the same to Moni?
Horror shook me.
Adoration was a fickle thing.
One misstep, one perceived slight, and the same hands that laid out flowers would sharpen their blades.
Hmmm.
But after that footage and all that I’d learned about Moni, I knew that she was strong—stronger than most—she’d damn sure showed it in the videos sent to the East this morning.
However, even steel bent under enough pressure.
I’ll protect her from them.
I let out another long sigh, turned around, and gazed at my attendants. “Okay. You can finish.”
Behind me, the room hummed with quiet activity.
“Yes, Mountain Master.” My attendants moved back over to me with practiced precision, dressing me for what was to come.
They began, and I stood still, letting them work.
Sounds filled the space around me—soft clicks of clasps, the faint rustle of fabric, and the quiet murmurs of my attendants as they tried to complete their tasks.
I glanced back at the window and caught the faint reflection of my attire. I wore formal pants, top, and shoes—the traditional attire of a Mountain Master during a significant battle.
It was all deep midnight blue silk and embroidered silver threads that wove patterns of dragons and aces.
The tailored fit of the outfit hugged my frame perfectly.
My formal trousers were crisp, the pleats sharp enough to cut through the tension that hung in the air. The hems brushed against the polished silver-tipped boots I wore.
My top, buttoned high up the neck, was a statement of its own. The silver buttons were shaped like ancient coins, each etched with Chinese characters that spoke of wealth, honor, and balance.
The high collar framed my jawline sharply, and a silver-threaded sash was tied securely at my waist, holding the ensemble together.
The attendants continued to work around me.
“Almost done, Mountain Master.” one of them murmured as they stepped back and assessed their work, ensuring that every fold, every detail, was flawless.
I shifted slightly, flexing my shoulders to test the weight of the attire.
It was heavy but not burdensome.
Silver and blue.
Power and grace.
Tradition and progress.
These were not just colors—they were symbols of who I was, of the legacy I carried. And tonight, that legacy would be tested in ways the East would remember for generations.
Two more attendants came over with my tailored blue and silver jacket and slid it over my arms and shoulders.
One attendant adjusted the collar.
Another stepped forward with the jewels that I only wore for highly formal events.
The jade dragon pendant was placed around my neck first.
Next came the silver cuff, etched with the Four Aces’ emblem.
Finally, they fastened the large diamond dragon pin to my chest.
I swept my gaze across the room.
Chen, Duck, and Hu stood to one side, dressed in formal wear too. They kept their voices low but urgent as they worked through last-minute preparations.
Phones buzzed and eight tv screens glowed, and like everyone else in the space their attention was split between the here and now and the logistics of the night ahead.
Soon. . .
Moni’s beautiful face hit my mind.
Soon I will see you, and soon I will kill him.
I gritted my teeth.
All day, I had prepared with Aunt Min, Aunt Suzi, and even Hu. Every movement, every strike, every block had been practiced and honed to perfection. My body ached from the hours of relentless training, but it was a good pain—a reminder that I was fucking ready to tear his goddamn head off his shoulders.
I can’t believe you pushed her to kill. For that alone. . .I will fucking try to make your death as painful as possible.
I moved toward the center of the room, the attendants followed, adjusting the final details of my attire.
When I reached the large display of television screens recently mounted on the far wall, I stopped.
You fucking bastard.
All eight screens were tuned to the East’s main news channels and gossip podcasts, their footage looping through clips of Moni from the night before.
Although the screens were muted, the images spoke louder than words.
Moni, standing tall, spilling out the bag of heads with a chilling calm. Her face was unreadable, yet her movements were deliberate and controlled.
The line of my jaw twitched.
She shouldn’t have had to do this all alone. I wish I had been there.
Two of the screens filled with Moni’s face and then spanned out, showing her standing over the bodies of Yan’s men.
Goddamn it, Father. Why would you do that to her?
Some of the more graphic moments had been blurred out, but the message was clear: Moni had absolutely earned the throne.
An hour after the footage had been released and aired all over Paradise City, the East fully accepted her.
There were even videos on social media of many of the earlier protestors we’d seen days ago at the gate. The thirty people who had worn gray monkey masks dripping with red paint and blue tape over the mouth.
Well. . .they no longer wanted to protest.
Over twenty of them had filmed themselves setting the masks on fire along with the signs that had said:
“No More Silence!”
“Free Speech or Death!”
“Down with the Mountain Master and the Grand!”
They’d changed their damn minds, once they saw the death Moni had delivered.
I smirked.
And as those masks and signs burned to ashes, those same foolish protestors cried in front of their phones and begged Moni for her forgiveness.
How quickly things have changed. . .
In front of me, the screens flickered again, showing a clip from the live broadcast at the main Eastern gate. It displayed thousands of people with their heads bowed, each holding an illuminated candle, creating an ocean of tiny flickering flames as they chanted Moni's name.
The sheer number of candles was staggering, and the sight of it left me breathless.
I parted my lips in shock.
This obsession for Moni will definitely be bigger than Mom.
What my father had envisioned had come to pass.
Monique wouldn’t just be the Mountain Mistress now.
She would be a gruesome, threatening force, someone who could silence a room with a single glance, someone whose name would be whispered with the utmost respect or shivering dread.
But at what cost?
The news channels flicked back to the earlier footage of her racing around shooting Yan’s men.
Dear God, Moni. You fucking survived.
I watched her on the screens, her shoulders squared, her head high, her hand raised shooting bullets into heads with cold-blooded precision.
I had no fucking idea you were that good with a gun.
Thank God I hadn’t given her a gun on Mount Utopia weeks ago. She might have shot my cock off with how annoying I had been.
I swallowed.
Either way, she had proven herself stronger than any of them expected, silencing dissent with a bullet and claiming a throne drenched in blood.
I fucking love you.
My chest tightened as I thought back to this morning when Chen had first shown me the footage. He’d brought in the additional televisions, insisting I see what the world was watching.
I had made it through three seconds of her being chased by Yan’s men before my fist shattered one of the screens.
I should have been there to kill them, not you. Never you. I didn’t want you to have to pick up a gun and touch the trigger. I am supposed to be the one that protects you.
After I broke the tv, the attendants had scurried to replace it while Chen muttered something about controlling my temper.
But how could I?
How could I sit there and watch her transform into something darker, something colder, knowing it was a transformation she might never come back from?
I turned my gaze to the ceiling, drawing in a slow, deliberate breath.
Are you okay, Moni? Do you need me?
There was a philosophical conflict brewing in my mind, one I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.
Was this change in Moni for the better?
Had she stepped into her power, embracing the ruthlessness necessary to survive in our world?
Or was she now being consumed by it, bit by bit, until the woman I loved was nothing more than a memory?
I didn’t know.
What I did know was that I would love her regardless.
Whether she became a legend who ruled with an iron fist, or a woman haunted by the ghosts of what she had done, it didn’t matter.
She was mine.
She would always be mine.
And I would walk through fire for her, with her, no matter what shape her soul took.
I swallowed.
The televisions continued to play the muted footage, but I looked away, turning my attention inward.
This is why you could never be allowed to live, Father. You’re a piece of shit—a murdering bastard. And you took it too damn far, killing Yan and pushing Moni.
My thoughts drifted to the hours I’d spent today in relentless preparation. Aunt Min had been merciless, testing my reflexes, pushing my endurance. Aunt Suzi had joined in, her sharp tongue offering both corrections and encouragement as we moved through the traditional forms.
Even Hu had stepped in to spar with me, his strikes precise and brutal.
I was ready.
My body was honed, my mind sharp.
But as prepared as I was to face my father tonight, my thoughts kept circling back to Monique. Her strength, her fear, her transformation.
I clenched my fists.
A knock on the door came and then two men entered, carrying a small, unassuming box. It seemed almost underwhelming, considering the weight of what I knew it contained.
Finally. I wasn’t going to leave without this.
Seeing the little box, Chen, Duck, and Hu immediately ended their phone conversations.
Let them disapprove. Let them judge me. I don’t care.
I walked forward, took the box from the men without a word, and then quickly slipped it into my pocket.
The atmosphere in the room changed subtly.
Chen came over and pointed to my pocket. “Are you sure you want to do this, Lei? Emotions are high. You should wait.”
Duck got to his side. “I agree.”
“I don’t hear anyone talking.” Chen scowled at Duck and put space between them. “Anyway Lei. . .you don’t need to do this today. Perhaps, take the box out and save it for another time.”
“It stays in my pocket.”
“But are you truly ready?”
There was no need to answer that question. We’d argued enough about it today.
Instead, I scowled at him. “Where’s Soaring Precious?”
Chen turned to Hu, motioning with a tilt of his head. “Hu, can you tell Duck to get the sword?”
Hu frowned. “Duck is right next to you.”
Chen’s lips thinned. “Is he? I don’t see anyone of any importance or honor next to me.”
Duck rolled his eyes with an exaggerated flair. “Hu, tell my petty, pissed-off brother that I’ll get the sword. And when I bring it back, I’ll stick it right up his ass.”
I grinned.
Chen deepened his scowl.
Duck stomped off.
Hu glanced at Chen. “So, Duck said that he will get the sword and—”
“I heard,” Chen waved Hu off and returned his gaze to me. “Lei, seriously, are you sure about this?”
He gestured subtly to my pocket. “It’s a big deal. I don’t want you to regret—”
“I might die tonight,” I said simply. “She should know.”
“You won’t die,” Chen said firmly.
“Just in case.”
“There will be no just in case—”
“Enough about that. Do me a favor. Forgive, Duck.”
Chen frowned. “He drugged me.”
“He didn’t truly drug you. He just gave you a gummy that you should have known had THC in it.”
“Why would I know that, Lei?”
“Why would Duck give you one regular green gummy?”
“Because candy is delicious.”
I sighed. “Forgive him. We need to be fully united tonight, not arguing about stupid shit.”
Another knock came.
“I agree with Lei. Get over your shit, Chen, so we can be stronger.” Hu moved swiftly to open the door.
Seconds later, Jo stepped in, clad in an elegant white suit that I was sure Aunt Suzi probably grabbed for her. She completed the look with sparkling white sneakers and diamond studded earrings.
What is this? Where does she think she’s going?
Jo’s expression was as bold as ever but her gaze carried a softness that wasn’t lost on me.
I raised an eyebrow.
“So. . .” Jo cleared her throat and stopped in front of me. “I don’t want to cause any trouble or anything. I know that you already have a lot on your mind and what not, but. . .”
“But what?”
“I’m coming to the feast and battle. I’m catching a helicopter ride with Dima, Marcelo, and Banks. Dima thought I should tell you so that you were prepared.”
Hu and Chen exchanged glances.
I placed my hands in my jacket pocket. “Jo, this won’t be a lovely feast. There will be blood and death.”
She met my gaze evenly. “I know. I just want my sister to see me and understand that everything is okay. I just can’t. . .wait for her to come back later tonight. I need to hug her. Kiss her cheek. I need to tell her that she is loved and that. . .Mom saw what happened and understands because I know her ass is going to be feeling all guilty and judging herself.”
I swallowed.
While I had made sure Chloe and TT didn’t see the footage, Jo had already seen it, likely before all of us. Early in the morning, she’d been on her balcony smoking a joint and scrolling through social media when it dropped.
Chen’s head shook. “She shouldn’t come.”
“No. She should,” I countered and made sure my tone left no room for argument. My gaze returned to Jo. “But you’ll sit with Moni and me, not Banks and Dima. You’re the Mountain Mistress’s sister and. . .you’re right. She probably needs a hug from you today and to hear those words.”
Jo blinked. “Bet?”
I nodded. “Bet.”
“Thank you, Lei.”
“However. . .”
She quirked her brows.
“You’re part of the East now. The white is fine for tonight, but you are to be wearing blue from now on.”
She pursed her lips together.
Chen’s disapproval was palpable as he looked between us. “This is a bad idea. Uncle Leo may not see Jo at the table as part of his plans and that is—”
“Fuck my father.”
Jo bobbed her head. “Yeah. Fuck him.”
Chen scowled at her. “Well. . .I hope you didn’t bring any of your special gummies today.”
Jo shrugged. “I sure did. Want one?”
He pointed at her and sneered. “I never want to see them again.”
“Your loss, and by the way, you were way cooler on the gummy than sober. You should think about never going without them.”
“That will never happen.” Chen adjusted his tie with a disgruntled sigh.
Thankfully, Duck returned before the conversation could derail further. In his hands, he carried a long, ornately carved box that exuded pure luxury. Its wood was deep mahogany, and the intricate patterns etched into its surface spoke of craftsmanship spanning centuries.
Duck handed it over. “Are you ready, Lei?”
“I am.” I traced my fingers over the box, feeling the history beneath my touch.
Opening the latch, I lifted the lid, and the soft creak of the hinges sounded like a threatened secret.
Inside, nestled against worn blue silk, lay Soaring Precious , and the blade shimmered with a deadly allure.
The steel seemed almost alive.
The white jade handle was covered in ornate leaves, and inlaid gold, silver, and copper adorned the blade in a stunning display of artistry.
Jo’s eyes widened as she took a step closer. “What kind of sword is that?”
I didn’t look away from the weapon. “The Baoteng Saber . Also known as Soaring Precious. It was crafted centuries ago during the Qing Dynasty for the Qianlong emperor. An Imperial Sword Master poured his life’s skill into this blade.”
Jo’s gaze remained fixed on the sword. “So. . .this is passed down in your family?”
“Not really. Five years ago, a London billionaire bought this sword at an auction for seven million dollars. I’m sure he was pretty happy about the deal. The next day, my father woke him up in the middle of the night, sipping tea right next to his bed and Uncle Song had a blade on his sleeping wife’s throat.”
Jo widened her eyes.
“Next, my father politely asked the man if he could hold the sword for him and. . .of course the man obliged.”
“I bet he did.”
I handed Duck the box and raised the sword to get a better look at the blade. “My father would like me to kill him with this sword.”
Jo blinked. “Uh. . .o-kay. . .why not a gun?”
“No guns will be permitted at the feast or battle tonight. All will be checked for weapons.”
“But. . .he wants to die by that sword?”
“Apparently, he’s always dreamed of this sword being what took him out.” I turned the blade. “Honestly. . .he probably figured it would be me using the sword to kill him. Probably hoped it would be.”
“Wow.” Jo shook her head. “The East is. . .different.”
The memory of my father and my past conversation came back to me.
This deranged joy had coated my father’s words. “Do you know the legend, Lei? It is believed that this splendid sword possesses an ethereal awareness, discerning the honor of those it is wielded against.”
Tension had gathered in my shoulders.
“If Soaring Precious finds the target to be a person of significant honor and virtue, the sword will sing a mournful whistle as the blade cuts through the flesh. I often wonder. . .I wonder what Soaring Precious’s final judgement of me will be when you slice my throat open.”
I held the sword to my side. It felt alive in my grip, as though it could sense the enormity of what was to come.
Will the sword sing? Or will it remain silent?
I lowered the sword. “My father wants this moment. A big duel under the moonlight. A legendary death to be written in the East’s history books. Something school kids would have to take a test on in the years to come.”
I considered all of that.
My father wanted this to be a story told long after we were both dust.
But this wasn’t just his moment.
It was mine.
And I would carve my own purpose into the historical archives of the East—not as his son, but as the man who fucking shattered his empire and rebuilt it on my terms.
Jo’s voice was barely above a whisper. “And you’re going to give it to him?”
I stared at the gleaming blade, its sharp edges reflecting not just light but the inescapable truth of the night ahead. “Death will surely come.”