Flee the sect.
In this world, some martial sects have a concept called "spring point" - what common folk refer to as "black words." It means breaking away from one's original organization to serve another gang, sect, or family.
For some legitimate families and sects, fleeing the sect is permitted - a kind of "parting on good terms" arrangement. "Business relationships may end, but friendships need not." If they meet again in the martial world, they can still exchange polite greetings and offer mutual aid when convenient.
Of course, this depends on circumstances. Leaving alone is one thing, but taking a group of followers, poaching clients or resources, stealing secrets or treasures, or causing trouble by killing someone on your way out - that doesn't count as an amicable separation.
Any faction that shelters such defectors would be considered at war with the original sect. The severity depends on how much damage was done.
However, some organizations like the Mighty Syndicate absolutely forbid defection. Once you join and learn their secrets, there's no leaving. New members must swear a lifelong oath - whether you live or die as a member is your own affair.
Fleeing the sect triggers a manhunt. The entire Mighty Syndicate will hunt you for a bounty determined by your skills, how many secrets you know, and the scale of trouble you've caused.
Iron King, as one of the Four Talents of Northlandia's Crystalpeak City branch, knows countless Mighty Syndicate secrets. This mission involved five billion in cash. Now he's beaten up his young lord multiple times, handed the money to Fyren, and is feasting on lobster and expensive wine...
If he defects, the Mighty Syndicate will stop at nothing to kill him.
Yet Iron King still didn't grasp the situation: "Young Lord, what do you mean by this?"
Fyren said, "You have two choices: First, kill me and die. Second, defect from the Mighty Syndicate and follow me. As long as I live, I'll treat you well. Whether we survive their pursuit depends on fate."
Iron King and his men remained bewildered.
"Young Lord, how did it come to this...?"
"I'm not your young lord. I'm Fyren from Crystalpeak City. That Otto you beat up repeatedly - he's your actual young lord."
Iron King's wine glass clattered to the floor. He sat frozen, speechless.
"You...this...Young Lord, don't joke like this!"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
Iron King stared at Fyren intensely, seeing only deadly seriousness in his eyes.
Recalling everything he'd done, cold sweat suddenly drenched his body.
The four big men were equally stunned, exchanging glances as they realized - they were dead men walking.
After such a colossal mess, even if someone survived, they'd all be doomed!
Fyren asked coldly, "Well? What's your decision?"
Iron King overturned the table in rage. "You've been playing me for a fool! I'll kill you!"
Fyren thundered, "You were dead men the moment you set foot in Crystalpeak City!"
This declaration stunned all five of them.
Fyren continued dominantly, "Use your heads! Are you worth five billion dollars? Worth it? Why would such a cushy job fall to you?"
Iron King gaped wordlessly.
"Mighty Syndicate never intended for you to survive this mission!" Fyren declared. "Your real assignment was to be Otto's black gloves - delivering five billion secretly to help him with his dirty work! Once Otto consolidates control of the four families, he won't even wait for full victory. The moment his 'decent persona' becomes unsustainable, he'll execute all five of you and pin every crime on your corpses! He'll emerge as the virgin white lotus while everyone praises him as the righteous hero and condemns you as evil criminals deserving death!"
Fyren drove the point home: "By then, Otto will be bedding beauties and sipping champagne, cruising in luxury cars and lounging in villas - while you lot won't even get proper graves, just concrete shoes at the bottom of the ocean!"
Tears welled in the eyes of the nearly two-meter-tall Iron King. Knowing the Mighty Syndicate's ways, he recognized Fyren's scenario as terrifyingly plausible.
Behind him, the four men were already weeping.
Iron King snarled at Fyren, "Then why trick us? If... if we work hard for Young Lord and become his trusted..."
"Trusted? Bullshit!" Fyren roared. "He has his own inner circle! Why would he need you? If he wanted loyal followers, would he choose you? A bunch of Central Quadportal rookies becoming Otto's inner circle?"
"You think loyalty alone makes you useful to a big shot? You couldn't even identify your real master! Otto's had followers in Seychelles for years - once he stabilizes here, his trained teams will come swarming for rewards. What use would you be then?"
"He might not kill you personally, but Otto's inner circle won't tolerate outsiders competing for resources!"
Fyren's final shout shattered them: "From the instant you left Mighty Syndicate, you were already discarded pawns! Just nameless corpses in Otto's path to domination - not even worth remembering!"
The men broke down completely.
Iron King closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "So... does following you mean we get to live?"
Fyren pulled over a chair and sat down. "Not necessarily, but there's a chance."
Iron King laughed bitterly, a desperate sound. "Fyren, you don't understand. You have no idea how terrifying the Mighty Syndicate is. You can't imagine what we'll face as defectors. They'll hunt us five down without hesitation! That's their unbreakable rule!"
Fyren said calmly, "The Mighty Syndicate is divided into: the Principal, the Schemer, the Guide, the Strategist, the Red, the White, and the Black. Each branch operates independently without communication. You're Red Guards - specialists in forceful operations."
"The highest authority consists of one Helmsman plus Left and Right Guardians and a Tactician. Red Guards answer to the Left Guardian, with the Four Kings - Gold, Silver, Copper, and Iron - beneath you."
"After you defect, they'll hunt you relentlessly. But the hunting party will still be Red Guards, because cleaning up their own mess is a matter of pride. The Red Guards must make a public example of you five to maintain their reputation. Am I wrong?"
Iron King stared at Fyren. "How... how do you know all this?"
"I know more than that." Fyren gestured. "Pick up the table."
Iron King hesitated, but Fyren's commanding presence left no room for refusal. He turned to his men. "Set the table."
The four men hurriedly righted the furniture.
Fyren retrieved the premium wine bottle that had fallen during the table flip, found several glasses, and poured a measure into each.
"I'll be frank. Otto is exceptionally talented - a true Son of Destiny. He may shake the world and become this era's most powerful figure."
Iron King mumbled, "Obviously. Everyone knows he's heaven's chosen with unlimited potential."
Fyren slammed the bottle onto the table and locked eyes with Iron King. "BUT! I, Fyren, am no ordinary man either! If he's the Son of Qi, then I'm the Chosen One! His advantage lies in his innate halo and privileges, while mine is the knowledge and wisdom in my head - things nobody in this world possesses! Sooner or later, he and I will have our final confrontation!"
"Now that you've completely offended the Son of Qi, there's no going back to being his followers even if you wanted to. But I, Fyren - the Chosen One - am offering you a chance right now! Take it or leave it, the choice is yours."
Iron King stared at Fyren, genuinely shaken by his commanding presence. How could this young man be so formidable? His bold claims were insane! The Chosen One? With such confidence! What exactly did he know?
Iron King said, "You...you can't possibly defeat him. You just have money, but he..."
"During your time in Crystalpeak City, who came out on top?"
The men froze simultaneously.
"How could I be so certain he survived that cliff fall unless I went to verify it myself?"
"With Otto's capabilities, he'd have taken over any other city by now. Why has progress been so slow in Crystalpeak City?"
Fyren pointed at his chest. "Because he met me! I can't guarantee ultimate victory, but I refuse to submit to fate! I won't be intimidated by his so-called 'Son of Qi' title! Right now I'm vulnerable, yet he can't touch me. Today I'm telling you - as long as Fyren breathes, Otto will never claim Crystalpeak City! It's mine!"
Fyren raised his glass, eyes blazing. "Drink! From this day forward, we share life and death, building an empire together!"
Iron King wrestled with his thoughts before snatching up a glass. "Fine! Iron King has no choice anyway - doomed either way. From now on, I follow you!" He turned to his four men.
Fyren said, "Choose: take money and disappear, or drink and join my cause."
Once Iron King raised his glass, one followed, then another, until all six glasses were raised.
"From this moment," Fyren declared, "you obey my orders without question. No matter how incomprehensible, you follow my lead. I promise - we share both doom and glory!"
"Share doom and glory!"
They drained their glasses, faces breaking into smiles.
Just then - pounding at the door. Fyren's expression darkened.
Holy shit! Could the hunters have found us this fast?