Li Tianming followed the man out of the library and into a narrow alleyway behind a closed tea house. The early morning sun barely reached the cracked pavement. He was tense, but alert—watching every step, every twitch of the man’s hand.
"Start with your name," Tianming said.
The man turned, eyes sharp. "Zhao Chenhai. Former bodyguard to your grandfather, Li Zhengxiong."
Tianming blinked. That name—Li Zhengxiong—hadn’t come up in the news article. "What happened to him?"
Zhao Chenhai’s jaw clenched. "He ruled the Li Conglomerate with discipline and vision. He built the empire with his own hands. But he trusted the wrong blood."
Tianming narrowed his eyes. "Let me guess. My uncle."
"Li Shengyuan," Zhao confirmed. "Your grandfather’s second son. Cunning. Ambitious. Greedy. The moment your father—Li Shengtian—was named heir, Shengyuan plotted a coup. Poisoned your grandfather. Staged a scandal against your father. Your mother tried to protect you—hid you away. But the family declared you dead. Burned every record."
Tianming’s chest tightened, his fists curling. Every answer brought more pain—but also power.
"Why now? Why come to me after all these years?"
Zhao looked him dead in the eye. "Because Shengyuan’s grip is weakening. He’s paranoid. Desperate. He knows you’re alive—and he’s already sent people to find you before I could."
Tianming stepped closer. "Then you’d better tell me everything before they do."
Zhao reached into his coat and pulled out a thin notebook bound in leather. He handed it over.
"Your mother’s diary," he said. "She gave it to me before she disappeared. I’ve kept it hidden all these years."
Tianming opened it. The handwriting was delicate, graceful—filled with pain and love. His name appeared on the first page.
“Tianming… if you ever read this, know that I never wanted to leave you. You are my greatest blessing—and the rightful heir to your grandfather’s legacy. One day, you must return. But not for revenge alone—for justice, for truth, and for our family’s honor.”
His hands trembled slightly.
"I will return," Tianming whispered. "And I will burn everything they built on lies."
Zhao nodded, his expression grim. "Then it begins. But first—you need to disappear."
"What?"
"You can't fight them as Li Tianming, the slum rat. You need a new name, a new identity. We’ll train. Build contacts. Build strength. Then, when the time is right, you strike from the shadows."
Tianming exhaled slowly. "Fine. Then let's start now."
As they disappeared into the maze of Donghai’s alleys, a black SUV across the street idled silently. Inside, a man in a gray suit watched through binoculars.
He tapped his earpiece. "We’ve found him. The boy’s alive. Orders?"
A cold voice crackled through.
"Eliminate him before he remembers who he is."