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Chapter 1 The Three-Year Term Is Up Deathrow. A place known to the world, yet one no one dares to mention. It holds the most savage and terrifying criminals on the planet. Even among the top ten globally wanted fugitives, they rank at the bottom here. But no one would’ve imagined—this entire prison, filled with the world’s most dangerous criminals, had been built just to imprison one man. Surrounded by the ocean, the island glimmered like a gem beneath the brilliant blue sky. The word “Deathrow” alone was enough to strike terror into the hearts of men. Once you entered, you were as good as dead. No one walked out of this place alive. Suddenly, the surrounding waters surged with violent waves. A military helicopter hovered down and landed on the open ground outside the prison. Two people stepped out, utterly out of place in this harsh environment. “We need the warden to bring out Mr. Tristan.” The speaker was an elderly man with white hair, leaning on a cane as he stepped off the helicopter. He spoke courteously to the prison warden who came to receive them. The woman beside him, dressed in a military uniform with two stars on her shoulders, frowned deeply. “Jules, we’re here to interrogate a prisoner. Why use the word ‘bring out’ so politely?” “Watch your tone!” The man in the tunic suit said sternly, “Ellsa, don’t act recklessly in front of Mr. Tristan. Show respect!” … Inside the prison, in a certain VIP suite. This was clearly a prison, yet the room looked like a luxury hotel—fully equipped with a bathroom and a spacious bed. Calling it a prison was inaccurate. It was more like a prison-themed resort. “Sir, someone’s here to interrogate you!” The warden hurried in, his face full of flattery and deference as he nodded. This wasn’t how someone should act when meeting a prisoner. This was how a subordinate greeted a superior—or a fan meeting their idol. “Tea.” “Thank you.” Soon, the door opened and in walked the old man and the young woman. The elder looked full of energy despite leaning on his cane, his eyes sharp, his presence calm but commanding. The young woman was tall and slender, dressed in a military uniform, exuding an air of arrogance and heroism. Her long hair was tied back, and she had the beauty of a top-tier model. But the man in the white shirt didn’t even glance at her. “Tristan, it’s been a while,” the old man greeted calmly. This man was named Tristan. He’d once walked into Ruins Alley alone and driven eight major organizations into chaotic retreat, protecting Claveil for three years. Ellsa gave him a once-over, her eyes filled with disappointment. Truthfully, she didn’t sense even a hint of a warrior’s spirit from this man. He looked more like a soft, frail scholar. “You’re the legendary Mortal Asura—Tristan? The man who held back armies alone across a thousand miles? You? Seriously?!” She examined him again. He looked nothing like the fearsome figure from the stories. Just a weak-looking intellectual. A man who belonged in a library, not a battlefield. “That hard to believe?” “You really think you look the part? If you were really the Mortal Asura, would you be locked up in here?” The warden, Tristan, and Jules exchanged glances—and suddenly burst into laughter. The woman’s name was Ellsa, one of the country’s few female generals. But their inexplicable laughter made her frown. Her voice dropped coldly. “Jules, what the hell are you all laughing at?” “He wasn’t locked up,” Jules replied with a smirk, tapping his cane. “He asked to be here.” The warden stood up too. “Sir, if he wanted to leave, I doubt there’s a prison in this world that could hold him.” “Fine then, let’s get to the point. I need your help.” Ellsa looked at him seriously. Tristan set down his calligraphy brush, lifted his gaze slightly, and a sharp glint flickered in his eyes. “Heh. You’re ordering me?” “You’re a prisoner. Why wouldn’t I order you?” “You. Don’t. Deserve to.” Three words. But the killing intent behind them made even the warden’s hair stand on end. Right then— An alarm blared outside. Red lights flashed throughout the prison. “Sir! Bad news!” “The Flesh Reaper and the Skeleton King are fighting!” “The Northwyn Deviants are trying to escape. They’ve injured a lot of our guards!” “The Night Fiend just stole the prison keys and let all the inmates loose!” The warden, however, remained calm. He looked back at Tristan, who was still smoking. “Sir, I might have to trouble you again.” Tristan rubbed his temples and sighed. “You’ve really got a knack for attracting nonsense.” He handed his calligraphy brush to a prison guard. “Take this to the Flesh Reaper and the Skeleton King. Tell them to soak in ten meters of seawater for an hour and cool their heads. If they don’t listen, I’ll deal with them myself.” “To the Northwyn Deviants—take this message. All eight of them are to dig coal in the rear mines. If anyone falls short of a thousand pounds, they can mount their own heads on the wall.” He looked around, found nothing else to use, and handed over the half-smoked cigarette in his hand. “Give this to the Night Fiend. Tell him I hate jailbreaks. If he’s a man, he should walk out the front gate like one. I’ll be waiting outside. If he’s not, lock himself in solitary.” Just a few simple lines, yet the commanding force behind them was undeniable. The guards bowed their heads, not daring to meet his eyes. Only three minutes passed before the alarms fell silent. Jules and the warden remained composed. But Ellsa looked utterly stunned. With just a few items, he’d quelled chaos throughout the entire prison. Could he really be… the legendary Mortal Asura? “Alright, wherever you came from, go back there. I’m going to sleep.” Tristan waved his hand dismissively at Jules. Jules responded with a grave expression. “Tristan, we came to ask you for something. The First personally sent us. Only you can do it.” “Heh. Me? What’s he after—my power or my money?” “He wants you to save someone. A woman.” “Not interested. These hands were made for killing, not saving.” “What if I said it had to do with your master’s death? Still not interested?” At that, Tristan fell silent for a few seconds. Then— Whoosh! He flicked his cigarette. The soft stub flew straight into the marble wall—and embedded itself there. “You’d better not be joking. If you are, the consequences will be severe.” Tristan’s voice was cold, forced low with restraint. He strode out. The warden followed behind, raising his voice. “The three-year term is up. Mr. Tristan is hereby released!” As his figure disappeared down the corridor, Ellsa narrowed her eyes. “Can he really pull this off?” “Don’t worry,” Jules said. “If he can’t do it, no one can.” “But if he’s that strong, why lock himself in here?” “Because of a promise.” “A promise? What kind of promise?” “He swore to his master he wouldn’t set foot in the capital for three years. So, he locked himself in the most dangerous place he could find.” Chapter 2 Food, Housing, and Women Provided Outside Deathrow. Every inmate had been gathered in the open yard, standing in two perfectly straight lines, leaving a wide aisle in the middle. The moment news broke that Tristan was being released, the entire prison erupted in chaos. Some inmates even unfurled a giant banner signed by every single prisoner. This wasn’t a release—it was a full-blown fan meet. Ellsa stepped outside behind Tristan. She swept a glance over the yard. Any one of these guys out in the world would be considered an S-class criminal. Yet here, they were shoved into the far corners, the most loyal of Tristan’s little fanboys. “Quite popular, huh?” she commented casually from behind. Tristan snorted. “Popular? These guys are dying to see me leave.” Once he was gone, Deathrow would lose all meaning. There’d be no one left capable of keeping the monsters inside under control. Three years. These once-mighty underworld titans had been driven to the brink of suicide multiple times. Now that he was finally leaving, they felt better than if they'd just had a healthy baby boy. As soon as they saw him board the helicopter, every single inmate dropped to their knees in unison. “Safe travels, Mr. Tristan—!” Seeing the scene below, Tristan rolled down the window and shouted, “Don’t get too comfortable! I’ll be back in a few days!” Pffft—! The inmates below lost their minds. Especially the ones he'd nearly broken—some of them were already screaming they wanted to die. “Sir, please have mercy! I can’t eat your stinky boot leather anymore!” “If you come back, I’ll kill myself right now!” “Three years! One thousand and ninety-five days! I’ve had nightmares every single night! I’m begging you, don’t come back! If it helps, just let me out—I swear I’ll turn my life around and make sure we never cross paths again!” Someone even pulled a knife and held it to their own neck the moment they heard Tristan might return. Every one of these inmates had once been a fearsome legend. Any one of them could’ve dominated the criminal underworld. But in the end, they all bowed to Tristan. Ellsa glanced at him—arms crossed, eyes closed, calm as ever. He didn’t look particularly old. Dressed plain, not especially tall or strong—kind of on the slim side, actually. And this guy had somehow reduced the monsters of Deathrow to a bunch of suicidal wrecks? “You’re a strange one. You’re finally out, and yet you want to come back? What’s so special about this place?” Tristan slowly opened his eyes and grinned wickedly. “Free food, free room, and you’re my maid.” “You…” … One month later. Inside a luxury hotel in Claveil, Rivathorn. Tristan lay back with his hands behind his head, watching the news play on a loop. “Top Story: A mysterious man dismantled an entire pirate group single-handedly. The sixteen ringleaders have all turned themselves in…” He turned the TV off with a click. He’d just picked them because they seemed slightly tougher than average—he needed a warm-up, after all. What had taken the authorities eight years to solve, he wrapped up in an hour. A little gift to mark his return. He was holding a photo in his hand now. He had to admit—the woman was stunning. Porcelain skin, radiant like moonlight. One glance could mesmerize. No wonder people called her the most beautiful woman in Rivathorn. “You couldn’t have researched anything else…? You just had to stumble onto the secret of immortality?” Tristan shook his head, smiling helplessly at the photo. He truly didn’t get the obsession with immortality. His master had uncovered that secret by accident—and ended up losing his life over it. Ding ding ding— His phone rang. He picked up, then chuckled softly. “So? You like the little welcome gift I sent you?” “You punk. Still sharp as ever. One move, and it was game over. That’s why you’re the only one fit for this mission.” “I’ll take the mission. But I’ve got a condition.” “Name it.” “I want to rebuild the Order of the Netherworld. I’ll personally pick ten from Deathrow. From now on, they follow me. People, lives, power, money—it all goes through me.” Pulling just one guy out of Deathrow was enough to cause global panic. Tristan alone already had the higher-ups on edge. Now he wanted to let ten more loose? One misstep, and the whole world could end up flipped on its head. There was a long silence before the voice finally spoke again. “When heroes rise, the world bleeds for ten more years. Just how big a mess are you planning to make this time?” “The three-year promise is fulfilled. The caged dragon is out. I brought peace to the world—now it’s time for the world to pay me back.” Tristan’s tone turned cold. “Not a single one of those people who were involved back then… not a single one is getting away. Not. A. Single. One.” He hung up immediately, leaving no room for debate. This mission was dangerous—so dangerous that no one but Tristan would dare touch it. And it just so happened that the people he was targeting might be the same ones who’d killed his master. Same people. Same goal. Immortality. … Meanwhile, at RivathornFairac Group. “What?! You’re setting me up with who?!” “And he’s fresh out of prison?! Grandpa, have you lost it?!” “I have to chase him? Me?!” A woman in black heels with red soles stormed down the corridor, phone pressed to her ear. She was Lissette, current CEO of RivathornFairac Group. Tenth on the Rivathorn Rich List, the only person under thirty to make the cut—and a woman, no less. She was living proof that beauty and brains could coexist. Maybe not a once-in-a-millennium goddess, but definitely one in ten thousand. She had no idea what her grandfather was thinking. Setting her up for a blind date was bad enough—but with someone who just got out of jail? Who did he think she was?! “Whatever, Grandpa. I’m not meeting the guy. So what if he can fight? You think fists mean anything in today’s world?” Lissette grumbled, then hung up. But the moment she opened her office door, her entire world flipped upside down. A man was sitting in her chair, feet kicked up on her desk, sipping from her cup. Before she could react, he spoke first. “You know you made me wait five whole minutes? Even the First wouldn’t dare keep me waiting this long. Woman, you better have a damn good reason.” Tristan took a sip, then spat it out. “Ugh. Red dates and brown sugar? What is this, menstrual tea?” Chapter 3 Good Looks Don’t Mean You Can Have Me “Bastard—! Get the hell out of here!!” Lissette finally snapped out of her rage and pointed at him, screaming, “Who told you to come in?!” “I don’t like your temper. Fix it,” Tristan said coolly, unfazed. “Get out—! What the hell does that have to do with you?! Where’s security?!” She shouted toward the door and grabbed her phone to call the front desk, telling them to send security up. But… “Ms. Lissette, everyone in the security department has… gone to the hospital…” “What?! All of them?!” “Yes! Not just security—everyone who came to interview for the bodyguard position got beat up by some stranger. The ambulances took all of them away!” Lissette hung up, eyes blazing as she turned around and pointed at him. “You?! That was you?!” “Stop hiring trash. They couldn’t even take a single hit.” Tristan spread his hands and replied coldly. Lissette was about to lose her mind. Sitting in her chair, drinking her tea, insulting her period—and now this man had sent her staff to the hospital! Where did he get the nerve?! “You’re Tristan?!” Lissette’s eyes narrowed as she glared at him. He adjusted his collar and said coldly, “Looks like your grandfather told you. Finding me is your Maitre family’s lucky day.” A hundred million a year—if it were the past, even his dog could’ve slapped the other party twice. This was downright insulting. He’d once raised a huge German shepherd that someone had offered a billion just to hire as a guard for their estate. If it weren’t for his master, he wouldn’t have entertained the Maitre family’s request at all. A femme fatale, maybe that’s what she is. Her father had discovered a gene recombination sequence—the secret to longevity—and handed a backup copy to her before he died. And yet this woman had attracted the kind of trouble that was closely tied to the death of his master. And his master’s death was tangled up with his own origins. All those threads ended up gifting the Maitre family with a golden opportunity. “Hah! You? You think you can be my fiancé? Dream on!” Lissette snapped. Tristan’s smile froze. “What?! Fiancé?! I’ll admit, you’ve got a decent face, but are you seriously dreaming during the day? Me, your fiancé? You should be so lucky! And even if I did lower myself to give you a shot, you’d have to pay extra!” “What?! Lower yourself for me?! You think you’re worth it?!” “Worth it? I’m more than enough!” “…” Lissette was fuming—but also laughing in disbelief. She’d planned to put him in his place so he’d back off, but now it sounded like he thought she wasn’t good enough for him?! She was the only woman in the past ten years in Rivathorn to be called a genius! She’d been accepted into one of the world’s top universities at sixteen. Published groundbreaking genetic research and earned her master’s degree by eighteen. Returned home at twenty and founded Fairac Group with a hundred-million investment—now worth a hundred times that. At twenty-two, she was already a frontrunner on Rivathorn’s rich list, the only young female tycoon in the mix. People lined up from here to France to court her. Suitors nearly broke down the Maitre family’s front door. And he had the audacity to claim she wasn’t good enough for him?! What a joke. A toad admiring itself in the mirror—ugly and shameless. The guy had an average face, dressed like a slob, and if it weren’t for his body, no one would recognize him in a crowd. And he thought he could be her fiancé? Dream on. “Here’s a million! Take it and get lost!” Lissette pulled out a check, filled it out, and slapped it on the desk with visible disgust. “Interesting.” Tristan stood slowly and sneered. “You’re hot-tempered, flat-chested, and not that pretty—but I like that defiant streak of yours. I’ll cut you a deal and let you chase me.” “Chase you?! Keep dreaming!” “See? You’re playing hard to get already.” “Get out—!” Lissette was so mad, she could barely breathe. And then— Tristan suddenly stepped forward, pinned her to the desk with one hand gripping hers and the other on her smooth, nylon-covered leg. Silk stockings—smooth as expected. Without warning, he hoisted her over his shoulder. Lissette never imagined she’d live to see the day her knees touched her chest. “Bastard—! I’ll kill you!” She screamed with everything she had. What kind of psycho did Grandpa introduce me to?! Delusional, arrogant, and a total pervert! Just then— A sharp crack rang out against the glass. The water cooler by the wall suddenly shattered like it’d been hit with force. The gunshot was crisp and terrifying. Lissette froze. She didn’t even notice Tristan’s hand still on her thigh. She was trembling in shock. “Sigh… This hundred million’s really not easy money.” Tristan let her go and shrugged. “That stunt you just pulled—trying to take advantage of me? That’ll cost extra. And this fiancé business? Also extra.” After a long silence— Lissette slowly looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears. If it hadn’t been for him just now, she’d probably be dead already. “I’ll give you another hundred million… Just protect me,” she whispered. Whatever had been happening to her lately—it was breaking her down. Car accidents, surveillance, being watched at night… and now this. Her life was in real danger. Faced with her sudden plea, Tristan gave a helpless smile. “I liked that defiant attitude of yours earlier. Bring it back.” “Fine!” No wonder she was a powerhouse in business. Young as she was, her presence was formidable. “Two hundred million. Protect me,” Lissette said coldly. Tristan shook his head, looking troubled. That amount was pathetic. He’d never taken such a lowball offer in his life. The infamous Mortal Asura, working for peanuts? That’d ruin his reputation! He had a name to uphold! He’d once turned down the Asphorix chieftain who offered tens of billions just to have dinner with him. And now he was being asked to personally act—for a fraction of that?! Ding ding ding— Tristan’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen: it was Old Master Qin. “Sir, one job, one fee. Not only did you lowball me, now I’m supposed to be her fiancé too?! You Maitre people are getting all the perks! If word gets out that I’m tied down by some girl, how am I supposed to survive in this world?!” A sly, satisfied chuckle came through the receiver. “Tristan, right? There’s something you might not know. Back in the day, your master lost a tiny bit of money to me in a poker game. So…” “It’s just money! How much? I’ll pay it back for him!” “Not much. Just 1.96 trillion. So… when can you transfer that?”

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