Chapter 2

In the first-class cabin, a faint fragrance filled the air.

James sat in the spacious leather seat, holding a yellowed letter in his hand. It was from his grandpa Aiden Smith, sent to the prison in Iceland half a month ago. The paper was thin, but it felt as heavy as a thousand pounds in his fingers.

"James, the Smith family has fallen, and you're the only descendant left. The Thomas family's daughter is named Evelyn—she's my friend's granddaughter. It's time to honor that old engagement. Go to New York, start a family, and stop killing."

James's eyes reddened slightly. Over the past three years, in Iceland's Polar Inferno Netherworld Prison, he had crawled out from piles of dead bodies and built the Asura Killer Legion, a group that terrified the global underworld.

He had once slashed the financial lifeline of Nordic tycoons with a single sword and single-handedly wiped out a mercenary stronghold in a bloodbath.

He was the god of killing, a demon, but in front of Aiden, he was forever that kid who lost his shoe in the old alley.

"Boss."

A cool voice broke his thoughts.

A tall woman in a bright red trench coat appeared silently in the aisle. Her face was stunningly beautiful, but her eyes carried an unshakable killing intent—S-rank killer of the Asura Killer Legion, codename Witch.

"What you wanted has been airlifted to New York by the Asura Special Operations Team," Witch said in a low voice, her tone full of respect, "A thousand-year-old Changbai ginseng, Spirit Lotus of the Snow Realm, and the Thirteen Needles of the Netherworld you specifically asked for—they'll land at Kennedy Airport in New York in half an hour."

James nodded slightly, his voice hoarse, "Thanks for the hard work. Stand down. During our time in New York, don't show yourself without my orders."

"Yes." Witch vanished like a shadow in an instant, disappearing at the cabin connector.

Just as James put away the letter and prepared to rest with his eyes closed, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor came, along with a strong whiff of Chanel No. 5 perfume.

"Excuse me, move aside. You're blocking my bag space."

The voice was cold and carried open disgust.

James opened his eyes. In front of him was a strikingly beautiful woman. She had her hair in a neat ponytail, and her tailored business suit hugged her figure perfectly. But her pretty eyes were filled with cold arrogance and contempt.

This was Evelyn.

She frowned at James. The man in front of her wore a faded camouflage tank top, cheap canvas shoes from a street stall, and even carried a faint salty sweat smell from Iceland.

In Evelyn's eyes, someone like him in first class was an insult to the expensive floor.

"Lottery upgrade ticket, or did you steal it somewhere?" After sitting down, she deliberately shifted her body to the other side, as if afraid of catching some poor-guy vibe.

James ignored her and closed his eyes again.

"I'm talking to you." Evelyn felt snubbed and got even angrier. As the current president of the Thomas Group, everyone in Coldwater City called her Ms. Thomas. She was heading to New York to find a slim chance of survival for her dying grandpa, already in a bad mood, and now stuck next to this low-class hick—it was bad luck.

She pulled a thick stack of unopened US dollars from her Hermès platinum bag—about ten thousand dollars.

Evelyn slapped the money on the folding table in front of James.

"Take this money and go to economy class," she looked down at him, "Ten thousand dollars is enough for a dozen economy tickets. The rest can build you a pigsty back in the countryside. This place isn't for people like you."

James finally opened his eyes.

He glanced at the stack of cash, then at Evelyn. A playful smile tugged at his lips.

So this was the fiancée he'd been looking for over three years? What a piece of work.

"Too little?" Evelyn sneered, pretending to reach for her wallet again, "Know your place. You sitting here just dirties the air. If you're smart, leave now. Otherwise, when we land in New York, I'll make you regret stepping on this plane."

At that moment, the plane's announcement came on.

"Ladies and gentlemen, due to weather in New York, this flight will prioritize landing guidance for special VIPs..."

Evelyn didn't catch what special VIP meant. She was just irritated.

"Take the money and get lost." She issued her final order.

If Evelyn had politely said, "Sir, I need some quiet space—could you switch seats?" with James's mindset forged in mountains of corpses and seas of blood, he might have actually gotten up and left. After all, gods don't care about ants' courtesy.

But Evelyn chose the dumbest way—handing out charity.

"Kid, Ms. Thomas is talking to you. You deaf?" A bodyguard growled menacingly, "Don't push your luck. Take the money and scram, or you'll arrive in New York lying down!"

James slowly reached out and pinched the stack of bills with his fingertips.

A flash of triumph showed in Evelyn's eyes. "See, poor people are all the same—just a little handout and..."

She didn't finish.

James gave a slight squeeze with both hands, and the thick wad of cash tore apart like waste paper, scattering into fluttering fragments!

The paper scraps fell like butterflies in the first-class cabin, some even landing on Evelyn's perfectly styled hair.

"You're dead!" The bodyguard flew into a rage, his fist whistling through the air toward James's face.

In that split second, a red shadow flashed eerily into the cabin aisle.

Crack! The bodyguard, who weighed at least two hundred pounds, flew backward, slamming into the rear cabin wall. He passed out without a sound.

"Anyone who touches my boss dies!"

A bone-chilling voice rang out. Witch Ava Davis had appeared at James's side at some point. Her red trench coat stood out like blood, and the killing intent in her eyes made even Evelyn, who had seen big scenes, break out in cold sweat.

Behind Ava, the flight's beautiful chief attendant trembled, her face pale as paper.

"Boss, sorry I'm late." Ava's killing intent vanished instantly when facing James, replaced by humble worship. Then she turned, glaring at Evelyn with an icy voice, "You just tried to throw money at my boss?"

Evelyn staggered back half a step under the pressure, forcing a cold snort to hold onto her dignity, "I'm Evelyn from the Thomas Group. First class is a symbol of status. This guy is..."

"The Thomas Group?" Ava scoffed, her smile full of mockery, "Even the Fed chairman has to bow to him. Who the hell are you?"

Ava turned to the attendant, her tone leaving no room for argument, "Get this Ms. Thomas a seat change. She doesn't deserve to sit next to my boss. Send her to economy—now, right away!"