The rain slicks the alleyway where Qiu Dingjie stands, his expensive leather shoes ignoring the puddles of filthy water and something darker that stains the ground. Alcord smells like gunpowder and regret tonight. He hasn't been back in three years, but the city still recognizes its prodigal son.

A man stumbles backward as Qiu advances, back hitting the brick wall with a闷响. Qiu's hand closes around the man's throat, fingers pressing into vulnerable flesh. "Where is he?" His voice is low, dangerous, leaving no room for disobedience.

"Chen Fei... warehouse by the docks," the man gasps, face turning purple beneath Qiu's unrelenting grip.

Qiu releases him abruptly, sending him crumpling to the ground in a heap. "Tell my brother I'm home," he murmurs, stepping over the trembling figure without a second glance.

The warehouse looms ahead, a monolithic structure against the night sky. Inside, Chen Fei waits surrounded by their father's old lieutenants—the men who should have been Qiu's. The door slams open, metal hinges screaming in protest. All conversation ceases.

Qiu's gaze locks with Chen Fei's across the room. "You called," he says, tone deceptively casual for the storm of violence brewing beneath his calm exterior. "Here I am."