Chapter 1

Los Angeles. Beast Prison.

Dozens of fighter jets circled overhead, filling the air with a deafening roar.

Hundreds of tanks surrounded the prison on all sides, their dark gun barrels aimed straight at the prison walls.

The guards stood pale-faced, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

None of them had ever seen a military show of force like this.

"Warden! Something big is happening outside!" A young guard burst into the warden's office.

James Smith, the warden of Beast Prison and a battle-hardened veteran, felt cold sweat forming on his forehead.

"I have no idea..." James struggled to keep himself calm. "Who on earth do we have locked up in here?!"

He racked his brain but couldn't think of a single prisoner who could draw this level of military response.

A stretched armored military SUV, surrounded by tanks on all sides, slowly pulled up to the prison entrance.

The license plate read "Archangel War Zone" — a plate that could make all of America tremble.

The door opened, and an elderly man stepped out in a well-tailored suit, his stride steady and sure.

Though past sixty, he was sharp and full of energy. He was Robert Johnson, commander of the Archangel War Zone — the most powerful of America's four war zones.

At Robert's side walked a young woman in military uniform, striking and beautiful. She was Robert's granddaughter, Patricia Johnson.

The moment James saw Robert, he froze.

He snapped his feet together, straightened his back, and gave the sharpest salute he could manage. "Commander of the Archangel War Zone! General Robert! James reporting, sir!"

Robert gave a slight nod, but his eyes went straight to the closed prison gate, ignoring the salute entirely.

"I'm here to receive Peter Sullivan upon his release," Robert said, his voice calm and firm.

Creak—

The heavy prison gate slowly swung open, and a figure stepped out from the darkness.

A young man walked out in a faded prison uniform. His face was worn, his hair messy, but his eyes were deep and cold, like looking into an abyss.

This was Peter — a man the world had forgotten.

The moment Robert saw Peter walk out, he stepped forward and bowed respectfully, his voice carrying a hint of humility and reverence. "Young master! You're finally out!"

"What?!"

Every guard and soldier watching stood frozen in disbelief. Robert — bowing to a prisoner? And calling him "young master"?

Peter paid no attention to Robert's show of respect. He gave Robert a cold glance and said with a trace of impatience, "Old man, I told you — I'm not going back."

James stared at Peter, and something stirred in his chest.

He thought back six years ago — Peter had been convicted of raping his wife's best friend on their wedding night and sentenced to six years. In prison, Peter had kept a low profile, though mysterious visitors had come to question him from time to time.

Now it was all starting to make sense. This Peter was far more than he had seemed.

Robert reached into his jacket and pulled out a folder, holding it out to Peter with both hands.

"Young master, this contains everything we've found on the people who framed you. We've tracked down everyone involved. Just give the word, and I will personally eliminate every last one of your enemies." Robert's voice was firm, his eyes full of loyalty.

Peter took the folder and flipped through a few pages, his expression cold.

"I'll handle my own business," Peter said flatly. "Don't bother me again unless it's something you can't deal with yourselves."

With that, he tucked the folder away and walked off without looking back.

Patricia watched him go, her eyes filled with confusion and irritation.

"Grandpa! Who is he? How dare he treat you like that!" She couldn't hide her frustration. "Even if he's some great doctor, he's still just a doctor. What gives him the right to make you bow to him?!"

Robert looked at his granddaughter, something complicated flickering in his eyes. He let out a quiet sigh.

"Patricia, you're seriously underestimating Peter," he said softly. "Do you know what happened in that battle three years ago? Our Archangel War Zone nearly got wiped out completely. If it weren't for Peter, I would have died out there on that battlefield."

Patricia's eyes went wide.

She knew how brutal that battle had been — but she never imagined it was Peter who had saved her grandfather.

"What... what did he do?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Robert's eyes filled with awe. "That year, a million-strong army from the Northern Barbarians came crashing down on us. We fought with everything we had, but we couldn't hold them back. Then Peter stepped in — alone — and fought that entire army. He crushed them. Broke them completely. Sent them running."

Patricia was speechless.

One man against a million soldiers? It sounded impossible.

"I saw it with my own eyes," Robert said, his voice full of reverence. "Peter stood there like a god, and he held back a million troops all by himself. I dropped to my knees right then and there. He's not just a doctor. He's the Supreme Marshal, appointed by the President himself — a rank above even mine."

Patricia couldn't move.

Supreme Marshal.

In America, that title carried the highest honor imaginable. Even the commander of the Archangel War Zone had to answer to it.

Robert looked at his granddaughter's stunned face and his tone turned serious. "Patricia, I'm ordering you to stay in Los Angeles. Get close to Peter. Help him. And if the chance comes... marry him."

Patricia stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.

She had never imagined her grandfather would tell her to marry a man who had just walked out of prison.