Ninos Prison, the most feared prison in the Dragon Kingdom. Everyone held here had a name that could make headlines: infamous assassins and mercenaries with blood-soaked hands, financiers sitting on obscene fortunes, regional strongmen who ruled like little kings. Yet this lineup of heavy hitters now stood at their gates, peering through the bars toward the center of the prison. A man and a woman faced off against each other. The woman wore a skintight black leather outfit, trading fierce blows with a young man in prison garb. She had a knockout figure and a flawless face; beneath gracefully arched brows, her bright eyes flashed with a sharp glint. Below her straight nose, her red lips parted as she drew quick, shallow breaths. He had jet-black hair and a steady gaze; his breathing was calm, his movements unhurried and sure. Even the shockwaves from their fists made the prison, said to be able to withstand a nuclear blast, shudder. "Aah." With a sharp, breathy cry, the woman in leather went flying. The onlookers froze. That near-invincible woman had lost. "Byron, you really are merciless." The sultry woman pushed to her feet, and she pouted teasingly. "How could you go that hard on me? You're going to break me." Byron Qualls kept his face blank, his eyes cool. "My dearest senior, Abby, do you admit defeat?" "Hmph. What's so terrible about staying here with me? Why rush to get out? I've spent night after night with you, training and sleeping together. Did none of that hold your heart?" Abby Lennon rubbed the spot on her chest where he'd struck and shot Byron a glare. At her words, Byron instinctively rubbed his lower back, then steadied himself. "Abby, I won't forget your care during these three years. But I haven't seen my family in three years. I want to see them." There was something else he hadn't told Abby. Once outside, he also planned to see his ex-girlfriend. Though his senior was curvy and fair, Byron still couldn't shake that other woman from his heart. Three years earlier, while on a date with his girlfriend Anastasia Lapwood, Byron had run into Otis Casson, a notorious spoiled rich kid.  Otis had taken one look at Anastasia's beauty and, right in front of Byron, tried to force her off to his villa for an orgy.  Enraged, Byron had snatched up a fruit knife from a street stall and stabbed Otis. He had landed in prison for it. Inside, Byron had crossed paths with a mysterious old man who called himself the Sovereign of the Primordial and who had strong-armed him into becoming a disciple.  Under the Sovereign's guidance, Byron had mastered astonishing medical arts and the path of cultivation, swept through the prison like an unbeatable storm, and was hailed by the inmates as the Divine Lord. "At least you've still got a conscience, remembering what I've done for you these three years." Abby's cheeks tinted at that. She took a token from her neckline and tossed it to Byron. "Take this. With it, you are the head of the Jever Sect, and you have every right to leave this hellhole." Byron caught it, his brow creasing. "Jever Sect? What the hell is that?" "The Jever Sect is the order our master founded," Abby explained, "He told me you must report to headquarters within a year. He has something important to entrust to you." "Tch. That old coot. I can't be bothered." Byron curled his lip, pocketed the token, and strode for the exit. The warden and a crowd of inmates fell to their knees together, shouting, "Farewell, Divine Lord!" Meanwhile, at Wisteria Private School in Zerton, in the three years since he had been gone, Byron's younger sister, Amber Qualls, had grown from a shy, green girl into a poised young woman. Her long hair fell to her shoulders; her features were painterly, bright with youth. Classes had just let out. Students poured through the school gate in waves of laughter.  Amber, however, hid near the entrance, stealing glances toward the street as if guarding against someone. She watched the gate for a long while, then finally gathered her courage and stepped out quickly. "Stop!" She had barely gone a dozen paces when several street punks rushed in and blocked her path. A moment later, a few well-dressed teens strolled up, grinning. "Bitch, you think you can hide?" The leader, a girl with her chin tipped up, snapped the words like a slap. "H-Hi Emily..." Seeing her classmate, Amber ducked her head and hurried to greet her. Instead, Emily Zorn slapped her. Smack! A bright handprint marked Amber's cheek. The blow rang out, but the nearby students looked unruffled; they had grown used to scenes like this. Amber clapped a hand to her cheek. Tears welled. Emily showed no mercy. She lunged in, yanked a fistful of Amber's hair, and hissed, "What are you crying for? Does crying mean you don't have to pay? You little tramp, hand over the money." "Ah…" The tug at her scalp burned. Tears quivered on Amber's lashes. She had spent all the borrowed money on their father's treatment. These days, she struggled to eat. Where would she find cash to repay debts? "I don't have money…" Her voice shrank to a whisper. "No money? No money! That's all you ever say. If you're broke, then pay with your body." Emily's brow arched, her eyes turning mean. "My dad runs a nightclub; they're short on hostesses. Men in their forties and fifties love a pure, fresh face like yours. Go in there, take care of them, and I guarantee you can pay off everything in two or three months." Amber's face went chalk white. "No. I don't want to be a hostess." She tried to bolt, but Emily had her by the hair. There was no escape. "You don't get a say." Emily jerked her chin. "Take her." Several burly men moved in, pinned Amber, and started dragging her toward a nearby car. Just then, a teacher walked up. A student hurried up, calling, "Ms. Joanna, Emily is bullying Amber again! She's trying to drag her to a club!" "It's nothing. Just perfectly normal kids scuffle." Joanna, in high heels, did not even look back. She walked away quickly.  Emily and her crowd were major donors to the school, the private school's golden geese. Joanna had no intention of crossing them. "Please, Emily, I'm begging you, let me go!" Amber sobbed. "I want to study. I don't want to go to that kind of place!" The crowd looked on in silence, unmoved. Some even pulled out their phones to take a video. "Ah! You little bitch, you bit me!" One of the punks yelped. He stared at the teeth marks on his hand, his face twisting. "Little slut, I'll give you something to bite!" He raised his palm to strike. "Hands off!" A furious shout split the air. An arm shot out and clamped around the punk's wrist. "Who the hell are you?" The youth snapped his head around and found himself staring at a young man with a dark, stormy expression. It was the newly released Byron. Crack! Byron crushed the punk's wrist, then slapped him across the face. "Aaaah!" The thug sailed sideways and crashed to the ground, blood painting his face as he howled. The sudden violence stunned the gathered toughs. Emily barked, "Who's the idiot sticking his nose in here?" Amber stared at the man before her, dazed for a heartbeat. Then she couldn't help crying out, "My brother!" The word stunned the surrounding students. "Since when did Amber have a brother?" "Yeah, never heard of that." They huddled together, whispering. Byron turned to his sister. Amber's hair was a tangled mess. A handprint stood out on her cheek. At an age when she should have been carefree and laughing, terror and helplessness clouded her eyes. "Byron… you're back!" The dam of her pent-up grief broke. She flung herself into his arms and sobbed, "I'm not dreaming, am I?" "Yeah. I'm back." Byron lifted a hand and smoothed her hair. Three years gone, and the sister he'd cherished like a jewel had been bullied like this. A stab of pain hit him in the chest. "Ha. And here I was wondering who you were. So you're that ex-convict they hauled off to prison." Emily smirked, her voice syrupy with malice. "Didn't they say you got twenty years? How'd you get out in three?" "What, he's an ex-convict?" Emily's lackeys burst out laughing. Byron ignored them, narrowed his eyes at Emily. "While I was gone, were you the one bullying my sister?" Emily lifted her chin and stared him down. "That's right. I slap her eight times a week. What are you gonna do about it?" Smack!  Byron's hand whipped out and slapped Emily hard across the face.