The Devil King's Return

The heavy steel gate swung open. Stuart Schulz walked out of prison in a plain gray outfit, his posture straight and steady.

Three years behind bars had left him with an icy edge.

Stuart stared ahead, his face blank.

On both sides of the road, hundreds of black bulletproof sedans lined up bumper to bumper. An entire row of elite mafia soldiers in black suits stood at attention outside the prison gates. Thousands of armed troops held their positions, weapons ready. Helicopters hovered overhead.

Several men radiated an unmistakable authority — clearly the heads of powerful families — yet they were all down on their knees, trembling.

The godfathers of South America's three major mafia families bowed their heads together. "We have long heard of the new War God's legendary achievements — the one and only heir to the old War God. On behalf of the Santos, the Varelas, and the Silvas, I swear to you: from this day forward, the three families answer only to you."

Three North American generals, each commanding their own private forces, stood in full uniform covered in medals. They dropped to one knee, voices thick with emotion. "Hopkins, Carter, and Wilson — the generals of the three military districts — swear this oath before God: wherever our guns point, we follow only the War God's command."

The world's wealthiest man, patriarch of the Nordic Olsen family, bowed his head deeply. "Most respected and great War God. The Nordic Olsens and all members of the European Freemasons — from this day forward, we follow your orders and yours alone."

Stuart looked out at the scene with cold, distant eyes, his mind drifting back to three years ago.

A storm of rage surged through him.

Seeing Stuart's icy expression, the people below shook with fear, filled with awe.

Three years ago, Stuart had been a retired top-tier assassin. The wealth he'd built over the years had earned him a place among the elite. He owned a private estate on the hillside, lived comfortably, and was happy in love. After marrying Selena, Stuart had felt something close to real happiness — and believed that was how the rest of his life would go.

Then a car accident changed everything.

The person involved was Leon — the boy Selena had described as her sweet, timid little brother. Stuart only found out later that Leon shared no blood with Selena at all. He was her secret lover.

That night, Leon drove drunk in the rain, got into a road rage incident, and plowed his car into pedestrians. It was a serious crime, carrying a sentence of three years or more.

None of it should have had anything to do with Stuart. But his own wife — the woman he truly loved — worked with Leon to fabricate evidence and frame him. Stuart went to prison in Leon's place.

And it was during those three years that Stuart met an old man in a wheelchair.

The man looked pitiful, so Stuart took care of him for three years.

What he didn't know was that the old man was the previous number-one War God in the world. The prison was simply where he'd chosen to spend his final years. Tired of the fake smiles and hollow loyalty on the outside, an old wolf at the end of his life will always leave the pack — unwilling to let others see him brought low, he had returned to where it all began, waiting alone for death.

On his deathbed, the old War God handed everything to Stuart — his entire mafia empire spanning Europe, the Americas, and Asia; seven overseas vaults; three elite private military units; the world's top medical team; a complete underground intelligence network; and every dark power he had ever held.

"Stuart, please find my daughter. Make sure she's happy. That's my only regret." With those words, the old War God — who had once commanded the world from the shadows — closed his eyes for the last time.

Overnight, Stuart went from a retired assassin to the most powerful figure in the global underworld.

His existing reputation, combined with the old War God's emblem and elite forces, was enough to put down the families that tried to seize the moment and rebel. One by one, the mafia and its allied clans fell in line.

Stuart looked down at the slip of paper in his hand. On it was an address — the only lead the old War God had ever found on his biological daughter.

"Don't worry, old man. I'll get this done."

Three years of living side by side — anyone with a heart would feel something. And the man had left him one hell of a parting gift.

Finding the old War God's daughter. Stuart locked that mission deep in his mind.

Just then, his chief deputy Dayna walked up beside him, heels clicking against the ground.

"My lord, there's something you should know. Before your release, Selena quietly filed for a forced divorce and obtained the court's ruling. That same day, she registered a marriage with a man named Leon."

"There's also another matter — more urgent — that requires your direction."

"This morning, your ex-wife brought her husband and moved into your villa in Maple State by force. Your parents were thrown out. We've arranged for them to be taken care of, but as for your ex-wife and the man — do you want us to use force?"

As the leader of the global underworld, from the moment he walked out and took the reins of power, every little thing happening at home — and anything touching his family's safety — would be watched and reported to him immediately.

"How are my parents?"

"Word of your return only reached Maple State a short while ago, and our people got there as fast as they could — but not fast enough. Leon brought a crew with him. They broke your father's leg. Your mother was so badly frightened that she's now showing signs of a mental breakdown."

A wave of deadly cold swept through Stuart's eyes.

"We have your parents settled in a hospital and tracked down the names of everyone involved. We've been holding off on taking action out of consideration for the fact that Selena was your wife — but we're waiting for your call."

His wife?

That woman had no right to that title.

The moment she framed him and sent him to prison, whatever they had was over.

Stuart looked over the list. The thugs Leon had brought weren't ordinary street muscle — they were fighters from several major local families.

His gaze turned colder still, like a dormant volcano on the edge of eruption.

"So these are the enforcers of Maple State's elite families. Looks like someone isn't happy about my return. Good. Alert the strike team. We're going home — and we're settling this."

...

Half an hour later.

Maple State. A helicopter was waved through without question, bypassing every restriction, and touched down in the courtyard of a villa estate in the center of the city.

The rotor wash whipped at Stuart's tailored jacket as he stepped out.

He was home — a place he hadn't seen in a long time.

He pushed open the door and walked in.

On the floor: two pairs of shoes. A man's and a woman's.

The fury in Stuart's eyes was barely contained.

He climbed the stairs, one step at a time.

From behind his bedroom door came the sound of laughter — loud, careless, shameless.

"Ha! Selena, you're something else. All of this is ours now. I think you've earned another reward."

"Stop it~"

Inside the room, the two of them were tangled together, laughing without a care in the world.

Then —

BOOM!

The bedroom door exploded off its hinges.