22. The Breaking Point
Chapter twenty-two
The Breaking Point
Lei
By daylight, the Sapphire Sanctum stood as a marvel—a jewel carved into the heart of Mount Utopia itself—but as night draped its shroud, it morphed into something otherworldly, like a vision conjured from myth and shadow, a place where power and beauty intertwined in a mesmerizing embrace.
Tonight, the pavilion stretched wide, its vast openness cradled by the mountain’s jagged edges, which loomed like a crown of gods piercing the star-sprinkled sky.
The air was crisp and sharp, mingling with the aroma of burning incense.
The pillars—each carved from lapis lazuli, sculpted and burnished to glimmering perfection—stood as silent sentinels reaching upward like towering giants. Their deep veins of cobalt, sapphire, and cerulean merged into complete artistry.
Silk banners in shades of blue—midnight, royal, and pale—fluttered gently on the wind.
The indigo chandeliers above us were masterpieces unto themselves—suspended high on silver poles that anchored their brilliance against the dark night. They were massive, intricate arrangements of crystals, hanging like sacred relics.
So flawless.
Below, the floor was a polished mosaic—thousands of azure tiles inlaid with veins of silver and turquoise.
My father had made sure the splendor of the pavilion was even more breathtaking tonight.
This was to be a feast for the senses that left no detail untouched.
Above the vast pavilion, the orchestra played. Their notes floated through the space with haunting precision and filled every corner.
All around, there were tables sprawled in endless rows, laden with an opulence that teetered on excess.
Each table had platters of lacquered roast duck with golden skins glistening like molten honey, sitting beside steaming baskets of dumplings.
Silver trays of whole fish lay poised with glistening scales.
Large bowls were full of noodles piled high and slicked with fragrant oils, while towers of sweet buns, sugar-dusted and gleaming, stood proudly next to them.
The wine flowed like rivers, poured by silent, blue-clad waiters wearing blue silk gloves, weaving between guests, and bearing trays of rare delicacies.
Yet, beneath the veneer of grandeur, danger slithered in every corner.
It clung to the edges of conversations, turned polite laughter brittle, and caused keen gazes to flicker toward the thrones looming at the far end of the hall. . .where I sat.
Where is she?
Rage rose within me as I barely remained at the special table on the raised platform at the end of the mosaic path.
Must I kill more? I’m more than willing.
The platform was carved into the rock itself, elevated above the other guests in such a way that it was impossible for them not to look at us.
For the first time ever, three thrones now rested here.
My throne had been carved from blue-veined marble. Its high back was cold and regal. Dragons coiled into its armrests frozen in eternal fury.
Beside me, the matching throne remained empty. This would be where Moni would sit.
Will you be playing more games tonight, Father?
Across from me and on the other side of the table, stood the new, third throne. The chair—a beast of carved obsidian—was darker than the night itself.
Must you sit in a throne this evening, Father?
Next to his throne was an empty chair reserved for Uncle Song.
While delicious trays and plates of food covered our table, no one ate.
I leaned back against my throne.
Its icy marble pressed into my spine.
My hand gripped the hilt of Soaring Precious , the blade laid across the gleaming silk of the table like a ferocious snake waiting to strike. Fresh blood clung to the blade’s edge, thick and dark, pooling into droplets that slid slowly off the steel.
Each drop landed on the table below with a soft, rhythmic tap .
I could feel everyone’s discomfort with my having the sword there. It was a ripple that swept through the table like a current.
Eyes flickered toward the bloody blade, then away just as quickly, as if prolonged staring might provoke its wrath.
I stared across the table at my father’s side. He’d invited all his retired officials to the feast.
They remained on that side, while my people were on mine.
The old and the new.
Two forces at war beneath the sapphire glow of this mountain pavilion, sitting shoulder to shoulder separated only by slivers of space but the tension between us was thick.
Aunt Min and Aunt Suzi were on my father’s side of the table. Every few seconds they glanced toward the entrance path, probably wondering when their brother would appear with Moni.
Ham, the old Incense Master, was next to Uncle Song’s empty chair, wearing ceremonial robes.
Next to him sat Jay, the old Vanguard, his suit crisp and tailored within an inch of perfection. A black tie rested against a blue silk shirt.
Jay was a weapon disguised as an aide—a man who could slip a dagger between ribs while smiling over fine wine.
He kept avoiding my gaze, probably already knowing that if my father didn’t come soon. . .he would be the next to go.
I caught his eye briefly, and his chin dipped ever so slightly in acknowledgment.
I’d already sliced the neck of my father’s old Red Pole. His name had been Guan, and I’d barely known him compared to the others.
But, my father loved him and I knew that would piss him the fuck off. Another man had rushed over to help Guan and I sliced his neck too.
I gave Jay a respectful nod.
You’ll also die, Jay, if my father keeps fucking around.
I checked my watch. “Three minutes.”
Aunt Min stirred. “L-lei. . .I understand. However. . .”
Tonight, she wore what she used to have on when she was my father’s White Paper Fan, the person in charge of managing our legitimate financial and business decisions. It was a formal silk qipao—cerulean and embroidered with faint silver peonies.
I raised my eyebrows. “However, what?”
“Leo will be here soon with Monique. There is no need to hurt anymore people tonight. We will already have to bury Guan and Jietang—”
“Don’t forget my father. We’ll be burying him too.”
Several of the people on that side stirred.
A few more of my father’s old Blue Lanterns were near rows of men clad in blue formal wear. Soldiers, gun mules, and low-ranking assassins. My father’s loyal shadows.
They’d heard me but made sure to not look my way.
Clearly, they knew what energy I was on, this evening. I’d fucking kill them all if they even glanced at me wrong.
Until Moni was by my side, everyone could taste this blade.
“Tick Tock.” I shifted my attention to my side of the table—the new blood.
My people.
The ones that had my back and were just as ready to devour everything the old had built.
It had been a long unnecessary month of chaos, and we were all fucking tired of it.
This shit ends tonight.
Chen sat to my left. Underneath his usual composed exterior, Chen’s eyes burned with quiet anticipation. He wore his finest tonight—an ink-black suit accented by a midnight blue pocket square.
My father had finally worn Chen’s patience out to the point where even Chen was ready for his death.
Beside Chen, Jo sat rigid and unsmiling. She was clearly worried about her sister.
However, I was proud of her.
Before I killed the men earlier, I told Jo to close her eyes.
She didn’t.
Instead she watched me slice their necks and didn’t even flinch.
And now she remained quiet, watching, and probably taking notes.
Duck sat on Jo’s other side and was the only one not dressed for a formal gathering. He’d put on clothes to fight—simple blue shirt and breathable pants with combat boots.
Further down were Hu and Moni’s ladies-in-waiting. They all had on suits—perfectly tailored, dark blue with threads of silver running faintly through the fabric.
Each of them looked lethal.
I checked my watch. “One minute.”
Aunt Min sighed.
I gripped the hilt of Soaring Precious harder, my knuckles whitening as the tension at the table sharpened to a razor’s edge.
Another droplet of blood slid from the blade, landing on the table with a soft, deliberate tap .
Across the table, Jay stiffened and he straightened his shoulders as if he were preparing to leap out of his chair.
That’s okay. I understand. You should defend yourself. I would too if I were you.
His polished calm was cracking, his gaze flicking briefly to the blade and then to my face.
He wasn’t stupid.
He knew what I was capable of.
What I was willing to do.
He’d been one of the people standing by during my childhood and watching my father train me to be a fucking killer.
Next, Ham, the old Incense Master, shifted beside him.
I caught the subtle tension in his arms, the faint twitch of his hand as it moved toward his lap.
Was he reaching for something?
A blade he somehow snuck in, maybe?
A vial of poison?
He was known for shit like that.
I didn’t care.
Let him try. I’ll kill his ass too.
Fury surged in my blood like fire.
My father’s side of the table felt like a dam about to burst.
Aunt Min fidgeted nervously. “Lei, please.”
Ham spoke. “We will not allow you to kill anyone at this table. . .Mountain Master.”
Beside me, Chen shifted just enough to make himself noticed. “You will stay seated. All of you because if you rise against the Mountain Master, then you will be dealt with too.”
A few of my father’s men froze.
Aunt Suzi’s sharp inhale cut across the space like glass.
Duck’s voice was casual as if he were commenting on the weather. “Anyone jumps in, then we’re jumping in. In fact, I’m more than ready to just fight now. Anyone?”
They remained silent.
Tension coiled tighter, snapping through the space like a bowstring pulled to its breaking point.
I was about to check the time again but the orchestra faltered.
Just like that.
And then, they quickly began to play some new song.
Huh?
The sound shifted, breaking into a melody I didn’t recognize—a slow, haunting rhythm that snaked its way through the Sanctum.
What are they playing?
Around the space, conversations died.
Forks stilled.
Heads turned toward the pavilion’s entrance.
Aunt Min spoke. “They’re coming. That must be Leo and Monique.”
Chen stiffened beside me. “But what the hell is the orchestra playing?”
I didn’t respond.
The song slithered through the pavilion, curling around the pillars like smoke, dripping with a sinister, lazy confidence that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
It was a jazz tune—slow, sultry, and dark—like something you’d hear in an old film where death waltzed in wearing a smile and holding a very large knife.
It wasn’t grand like the orchestra’s earlier pieces.
No swelling strings.
No crashing cymbals.
This was something wicked, something chosen.
A creeping melody where every note hung in the air too long, stretching nerves thin.
A trumpet wailed in the distance, high and sharp, while the soft, rhythmic hum of the bass underpinned it all—steady, measured, like the ticking of a clock.
And I just knew. . .I fucking knew.
Oh really, Father?
I let go of Soaring Precious and frowned. “It’s her theme song.”
Everyone put their attention toward the entrance.
“Monique’s theme song?” Chen muttered under his breath. “But. . .you and I were supposed to pick that later.”
A growl rose in my throat as I gritted my teeth.
Father, you kidnap her on the supposed last night of your life. You make her kill. You fucking put together her theme song. Is she your Mountain Mistress or mine?
Anger surged hotter with every sinister note that echoed through the Sanctum.
The path at the far end of the mosaic pavilion remained empty, but the song built like a storm rolling in.
The horns wailed again—louder now, grating against my skull—and my pulse matched the ominous rhythm of the bass.
I stood, rising slowly from my throne.
All the guests in the space rose with me.
Chen whispered. “Lei, you’re supposed to be seated. Now, you’re making everyone rise and confusing us even more.”
The jazz poured on.
Louder.
Deeper.
Each trumpet blast sliced through the tension like a gunshot.
And then, at last, they appeared.
I didn’t even blink.
At the far end of the path, under the cascade of blue light my father emerged from the shadows with his sapphire robe swirling around him.
And beside him with her hand tucked neatly into the crook of his arm, was Moni.
Finally.
And she was more captivating than ever.
The gown—deep blue shimmering silk—clung to her frame like it had been poured onto her skin. A fur coat was draped over her shoulders as she walked.
Jo gasped. “Damn, sis.”
A crown of sapphires sat on her newly shaved head.
Camera flashes snapped on the edges of the trail.
My father had only invited three newspapers to the event—the ones that were the most loyal to him.
Moni.
She looked amazing, but it was her face that had my body vibrating. The steadiness in her gaze, the calm tilt of her chin—it was the face of someone who absolutely belonged on the throne next to mine.
She was a queen walking into a kingdom that had forgotten it was hers.
And my father knew it.
He boldly held her arm like he was presenting her to us all, like he was the one who’d carved her into this image of ruthless perfection.
Like she was his.
All his.
He even had his damned mouth curved into a smug, satisfied smile, and it took everything in me not to cross the space between us and cut that smile from his face.
Chen exhaled slowly beside me. “Lei, they’re here. Now you must focus and not play any of his mental games.”
I didn’t look at Chen.
My gaze returned to Moni’s face.
The jazz continued its slow, murderous wail, every note stretching the tension tighter and tighter.
Enough of this shit. I’m done giving him his fucking way.
Chen caught the shift in my posture before anyone else did. “Lei. . .what are you going to do?”
I pushed away from my throne and left Soaring Precious where it lay.
Chen called out to me, “Lei, You’re supposed to stay here.”
“I’m the fucking Mountain Master.” I headed away.
Murmurs swept through the guests like ripples in water as I moved.
Some watched Moni and my father.
Others’ gazes locked on me, wide-eyed and stunned.
I got around the table and then leapt off the platform.
A few women gasped.
The drop from the platform was nothing. A clean, sharp movement. My body landed steady, muscles coiling as I straightened my shoulders.
The orchestra faltered again.
Confused notes sputtered into silence before half of them started playing Moni’s theme song again—slow, jazzy, and dripping in murderous confidence.
But the other half panicked and shifted to my theme song . A low, violent march.
The sounds were all tension-soaked and thunderous.
A hot, chaotic mess of sound.
I felt it—both themes clawing for dominance, competing like predators but I didn’t stop.
I stormed toward the entrance.
You really thought I was going to sit back as you walked my woman to me? What the fuck is wrong with you?
Even from across the space, I could see my father’s face twist as the music disintegrated into a tangled cacophony of crazy.
I was ruining his moment.
You don’t like that, do you? When your plans don’t work out. It sucks. Right?
Anger flashed in his narrowed eyes. He slowed his steps as though trying to maintain control, but I could see it—my father was beyond pissed.
And he should be.
Because I didn’t give a fuck!
A second later, Moni saw me. Her head tilted slightly and her lips curved into a soft, knowing smile.
I fucking missed you. Do you know that? Can you even understand how much?
That smile split through my rage, anchoring me for a second before everything flared hotter.
I picked up my pace.
The space around me turned into a blur of blue banners, chandeliers, and terrified faces.
I got closer and noticed that my father tightened his grip on her arm, yanking her closer.
Meanwhile, his other hand shifted low to the hilt of his sword.
I dare you to take it out. We can fucking fight right here.
I continued forward and when I reached the center of the path, the orchestra’s sound devolved into even more chaos—one trumpet let out a broken wail, strings fumbled in confusion, and I could hear the musicians snapping at each other.
My father and she got to me and stopped.
Then, my father sneered. “This is your Mountain Mistress’s moment. Her debut. What do you think you’re doing?”
I met his glare with one of my own, stepping closer until the space between us vanished. “If that’s true, if this is my Mountain Mistress, then why are you next to her?” My voice dropped lower, cutting through the noise like a blade.
“She’s my Mountain Mistress. Right? Not yours. You had your moment with Mom. Let mine go.”
Moni tried to move from him.
My father wouldn’t budge and that other hand flexed on the hilt of his sword. He didn’t speak at first, but I could see the rage bubbling just beneath the surface—his chest rose and fell heavier.
His mouth twitched at the corners.
For a second, I thought he’d draw the blade right there, slice through whatever fragile truce existed between us in front of the entire sanctum.
I leaned in closer. “You want to battle here? I’m fine with it, but you will not walk next to her anymore.”
Moni parted her lips. “Let me go, Leo.”
“Everything must be the way I’ve designed it. I’ve spent too much time. Go sit down, Lei.” He shifted, pulling Moni slightly behind him. “This is her time.”
His movement was subtle but unmistakable—he was trying to claim her in front of me.
Like a prize.
His prize.
Instantly, I saw red.
Moni frowned and moved, trying to step away.
His grip tightened.
I didn’t think.
I just moved.
My hand shot out, slamming his hand away from her arm with enough force to send a sound echoing through the Sanctum.
The sudden movement sent a collective gasp rippling through the guests.
Shocked, my father stumbled back.
Cameras flashed.
Somewhere in the orchestra pit, a violin screeched to a halt.
Waiters froze mid-step, some dropping trays that crashed to the ground.
Leo’s hand flew back toward the hilt of his sword.
I snarled. “You will never get to touch her again.”
Moni hurried over to me.
I offered my arm.
She took it.
My father’s face darkened. “You are. . .twisting this. I just wanted to—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you want. Don’t touch her. Don’t stand next to her.”
And without saying anything else to him, I took Moni away in the opposite direction.
“Lei! What are you doing?!” My father yelled. “The feast is this way! We must have the feast before the—”
“I want a moment to talk to her! Then you’ll have your damn feast, old man!”
Moni didn’t protest.
She didn’t pull away. I could feel the weight of every eye in the pavilion on us as we walked off—guests, officials, soldiers, the orchestra, even Dima and Rowe Street Mob.
Everyone was staring in stunned silence.
Behind us, my father’s fury erupted. His shout reverberated against the pavilion walls like a curse, full of venom. “Lei!”
But I didn’t stop, and I didn’t give one fuck.
I had her— my Mountain Mistress.
My heart.
And never would she be away from me again.