The King's Return: My Vengeance Knows No Bounds

When James Smith was dragged onto the boat, he had already used up his last bit of strength.

He lay on the deck like a dog, gasping for air. Seawater from his stomach flowed out from the corners of his mouth, quickly soaking the floor beneath him.

"Mr. Johnson, there's really no need to save him! You don't know—in this Red Sea Bay, people get thrown into the sea every day. Even God couldn't save them all!"

A captain-looking man walked over as he spoke, his hat as crooked as the pipe in his mouth. He didn't even bother to give James on the ground a proper look.

Michael sighed and straightened up, taking a step back:

"John Williams, since I chartered your boat, I should have the right to decide who comes aboard, shouldn't I?"

John blew out a smoke ring and glared at Michael:

"OK, Mr. Johnson, this is the last time. A hundred thousand dollars to save one person. I'm only responsible for getting you and your daughter to Novaria. If the trip gets delayed, you'll pay extra!"

After John finished speaking, he spat on the deck and turned to leave.

James heard everything and had finished coughing up the seawater from his stomach.

He propped himself up and slumped onto the deck, squinting to get a clear look at Michael.

"I'll repay you."

James said only this one sentence.

His voice was soft, as if squeezed out from deep in his throat, yet it carried a weight that couldn't be ignored.

Michael looked at this soaking wet, disheveled young man, nodded slightly, and didn't ask any questions.

James closed his eyes, letting the sunlight scorch his cold body.

As his consciousness blurred, images flooded back like a tide—

Three days ago, he was still a top bodyguard at Apex Sentinel Group. It was the most secretive and luxurious club in all of Europe, frequented by politicians and tycoons.

He and his friend and colleague William Brown had accidentally discovered their boss's secret:

On the third basement level, those carefully selected underage girls, priced like merchandise, were actually trafficked from all over the world.

They wanted to call the police.

But the boss moved faster.

After searching for who had gone down to the dungeon to bring water and messages to the girls, James held down William's hand and stepped forward himself.

If he didn't confess, both of them would be exposed.

"Damn it! Who allowed you to betray me, James! Your 20th birthday is coming up. Looks like you don't like the sports car I prepared for you—you'd rather have my bullet as a birthday present, is that it! Damn it!"

Robert Davis had trained James for four years. Though reluctant to kill him, he would never allow betrayal.

The bullet went through James's back and out through his chest.

James didn't make a sound.

As he fell, his hand pressed down hard on William's head, looking as if he wanted to drag someone down with him.

Only William could hear those words: Save them if you can, but don't throw yourself away if you can't. I'm going to play with death—don't come looking for me!

After that, his remaining consciousness rattled around in a wooden crate.

James thought to himself that Robert, though terrible to others, had been pretty decent to him—even in death, he knew to get him a coffin. Too bad the quality was poor, and it was too short.

When everything started spinning, he realized it wasn't a coffin at all—he'd been packed in a crate and thrown off a cliff into the sea...

His life should have ended when he broke out of that crate. The life he had left was given to him by Michael.

Six Years Later

"This is James. Speak."

"I'm Cleo Johnson. James, I'm here to collect on your promise."

"Alright."

James hung up the phone and stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the snow fall over Novaria.

Six years was enough time to turn a dog into a wolf.

Now, he was the head of Apex Global Enterprises, the feared Mr. M of the underworld.

But the moment he received this call, he thought of that middle-aged man who had pulled him back from death's door.

"Boss, are you really going? Is it worth it? The situation in Lumaria is very tense right now. They say war could break out at any moment!"

Daniel Wilson grabbed James's backpack and wouldn't let go.

"You're afraid of war?"

James tossed aside the backpack and pulled out a platinum lighter, casually striking it against his knee. A flame sparked to life.

He tilted his head and lit a pure black slim cigar, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Usually, he was like this—gentle as a proper gentleman, speaking in a slow and measured way.

But Daniel knew this was just surface.

"No, Daniel, why are you being so naggy? Didn't the boss say he's going back to repay a debt? By the way, boss, I've done some digging—you might have an unexpected gain from this trip!"

Matthew Moore, in charge of intelligence gathering, pushed up his glasses with a somewhat suggestive smile on his face.

"Matthew! Every time you smile like that, I get the creeps! The boss is going back alone this time! Alone! We're not some casual organization anymore! We're now..."

"Shut up, Daniel! Both coasts are full of surveillance! Technology is so advanced now—stop talking nonsense! Boss, don't worry! I'll handle all the logistics for you."

Matthew said.

"Good. I'm off."

James responded and threw the half-burned cigar on the ground.

His combat boot stepped on it, crushing the cigarette butt to pieces in an instant.

In that moment, the gentleness on his face vanished completely, replaced by a chilling coldness.

Daniel shivered and didn't dare say another word.

When James spoke the least, that's when he was in his worst mood.

Lumaria · Senate Building

Round and round, and he was back again.

James stood at the entrance of Lumaria's Senate building, looking with a cold smile at the row of giant portraits hanging by the main gate.

That face—he could draw it with his eyes closed. Back at Apex Sentinel Group, this man had been Robert's honored guest. No, to be precise, this man was the real mastermind behind Apex Sentinel Group!

He was also Lumaria's biggest human trafficker!

James raised his finger and made a shooting gesture at the giant portrait.

James's action quickly caught the attention of two security guards.

But by the time they walked to where James had been standing in the plaza, he had already disappeared.

"Strange! Where'd he go? I was watching the whole time! Damn it! How could he vanish in the blink of an eye! Squad leader, should we report this to the captain?"

The corporal asked hesitantly.

"Shut up! We're on normal duty today! We saw nothing! Got it? Don't make trouble for yourself!"

"Yes, sir! Squad leader!"

James hadn't gone far.

He was fully capable of shooting the senator dead from 200 feet away, but doing it that way wouldn't be satisfying enough.

After all, back then, he could have died from just two bullets. But when Robert's gun was pressed to his forehead, the late-arriving senator had suggested:

They could put him in an iron crate and throw him off a cliff into the bay... wouldn't that be interesting...?

If that was the case, how could the senator not experience such an interesting life event himself?