{Chapter: 138 - Shadows in the Silk}
He raised his hand, and a glowing sequence of numbers appeared in the air like a hologram. "Here's my contact. I'll be in Star City for the next seven days. You need help? You know how to find me."
Oliver looked at the numbers, memorized them instantly, and gave a small nod. "Thanks."
With that, Aiden turned, gesturing for Carol to follow him. She gave Oliver a quick wave before walking beside Aiden as they ascended toward the surface.
As they left the echoing chamber that would soon become the Green Arrow's underground base, a soft chime rang in Aiden's ears.
[Green Arrow: Oliver Queen, Friendship Rate Increase +5%]
He smiled.
Oliver wouldn't call for help—not yet. He was too stubborn, too independent. That much was obvious. But Aiden wasn't worried. The Star City Oliver lived in now was just beginning to turn into the battleground it would become.
Eventually, things would escalate. And when they did, Aiden would be ready.
---
The courtroom doors creaked open, and Oliver Queen stepped out into the sunlight—a man once declared dead, now reborn in the eyes of the law. He had just walked out of the Star City courthouse, where a long legal battle had finally come to an end. His official resurrection was now public record. His citizenship, identity, and status as Oliver Jonas Queen—heir of Queen Consolidated—had been fully restored.
He adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket, exhaling slowly. It wasn't just paperwork. For the first time in five years, he wasn't just a ghost lurking in the alleys of his old life—he was officially among the living again.
As if fate had arranged it, Laurel Lance appeared just a few steps ahead, walking briskly with a folder in hand and determination burning in her stride.
"Laurel," Oliver called out.
She turned, a brief flicker of surprise lighting her face before her usual guarded expression returned.
"You're a hard man to run into these days," she said, tone neutral, but her eyes spoke volumes.
"I just walked out of court. The city finally acknowledges I'm not dead," he replied with a faint smile. "Although sometimes, I think I left the better parts of myself on that island."
Laurel paused, studying him. "You're not the only one who's changed."
Oliver nodded solemnly. "I heard you're going after Martin Somers."
At that, her expression hardened. "He's working with the Chinese Triad, using his company as a front to smuggle drugs and weapons through Star City's port. The DA doesn't have the guts, and the SCPD is either too underfunded or too scared to touch him. So I'm doing what I can."
Oliver's eyes narrowed. That name—Somers—it echoed in the back of his mind like a ghost from a list he memorized under torchlight. His father's list. The one filled with men and women who failed this city.
"I remember him," Oliver said. "Somers is dangerous. Be careful."
Laurel gave him a curious look. "You've changed, Oliver. The old you wouldn't even remember the name of a corrupt CEO."
"The old me didn't care. The man I became… he knows what these people do to a city. To people like you."
Laurel hesitated. There was something in Oliver's voice—something darker, weighted by more than words. But before she could press further, he was already turning away, retreating into the city.
---
That night, a storm rolled in, and the shadows of Star City thickened. Oliver stood inside the derelict warehouse he now used as a temporary base. Hood up, bow in hand, green leather clinging to his frame like a second skin. He had already gathered intel on Somers. The man had security, muscle, money—and worse, connections. But Oliver had resolve, skill, and five years of relentless survival training burned into his muscles and bones.
He dropped into Somers's office like a shadow from the ceiling. The bodyguards barely had time to react before they were down—arrows lodged in shoulders and thighs, non-lethal but precise.
Somers, trembling, looked up from his desk.
"You have failed this city," Oliver growled.
The green arrow pointed straight at his chest.
"Confess. Surrender. Or next time, I won't be so merciful."
Somers thought the message had been received.
He was wrong.
---
The Triad wasn't a group that waited for permission.
Deep in the underbelly of the city, a woman stood in a warehouse lit only by red lanterns and moonlight filtering through slatted windows. She wore a crimson dress that seemed to bleed into the shadows, and her long silver-white hair flowed behind her like silk in the wind.
Chen Na Wei. Known to the underground as China White.
She moved like smoke—elegant, controlled, and utterly deadly. Her fingers traced the edge of a curved blade, its reflection flickering like lightning in a storm. She had once ruled opium routes in Hong Kong and trained under assassins whose names had long since been lost to history. The Triad revered her. Feared her.
When Somers called, she answered.
But she didn't care about Oliver Queen.
She cared about the woman putting pressure on him: Laurel Lance.
---
Watching her from above, unseen in the wooden rafters, was Aiden.
He sat cross-legged like a silent monk cloaked in shadows, eyes glowing faintly. He didn't interfere—yet. But he was watching, recording, and analyzing. He knew what came next, at least in the original timeline.
But the world had changed. He was in it now.
Na Wei moved to the window, her dress slipping from her shoulders in a fluid, practiced motion. Aiden's gaze followed—not fully lecherous, but also curious. Her grace was almost ritualistic. As she changed into her battle gear—tight black leather, custom-fitted to accentuate both her mobility and lethal figure—he saw another kind of beauty. Cold, calculating, and precise.
Aiden's eyes were slightly brighter as he admired her perfect figure. Unlike Carol, whose features were distinctly Western—sharp, bold, and radiant with classic American allure—Na Wei possessed the unmistakable elegance of Chinese heritage, tinged with the refined grace of a mixed lineage. Her beauty wasn't loud or flashy—it was layered, deep, and quietly captivating. It carried a different kind of flavor, the kind that lingered in the mind long after the first glance.
Aiden could appreciate beauty in all its forms. He had seen the fierce elegance of Clarice with her hub of pink skin, the powerful divine presence of the Asgardian warrior-goddess Sif. He hadn't yet met Raven in person, but the images on the Marvel world internet alone—those haunting violet eyes, red hair, and aura of otherworldly calm—had convinced him she was the blue goddess he always imagined. Then there were Emma and Susan—both radiant blondes, often clad in pristine white and cool blue, with bodies sculpted like works of art: voluptuous, poised, and undeniably commanding.
Each of these women carried a completely unique aura, from commanding nobility to gentle strength, from smoldering passion to icy mystery.
And then there was Na Wei.
She was snow where others were flame—cool, composed, and captivating. The striking silver-white of her hair amplified her mystique, lending her a quiet power that whispered instead of shouted. Every glance she gave felt deliberate, every step graceful, and beneath her calm exterior was a charm that lingered in the mind like the aftertaste of rare wine.
Where others burned like fire, Na Wei chilled like snow—and William found that contrast irresistible.
Sif's legs might be stronger,' Aiden mused, 'but Na Wei… there's a kind of grace here that can't be trained. It's innate.'
---
Soon, Na Wei departed, joined by two assassins. They loaded into a matte-black van and drove into the misty city streets, destination already fixed in her mind.
Aiden hovered above the rooftops, following without sound. His cloak fluttered in the wind as he vanished from one ledge and reappeared on another—blinking between shadows like a wraith.
He didn't interfere. Not yet.
---
Across town, in a quiet apartment above a modest Chinese restaurant, Laurel sat curled up on the couch with a warm cup of tea. Oliver was there, seated across from her, his expression calm but alert.
"I'm not used to you being this… serious," Laurel said gently.
Oliver looked out the window, scanning the skyline. "I used to be a boy playing with toys. Now I'm a man carrying scars."
Laurel bit her lip. "You don't have to do this alone."
"I do," he replied. "Because no one else can."
Suddenly, his gaze sharpened. Outside, a shadow moved near the fire escape.
"Get down!" Oliver shouted.
The glass shattered as a throwing blade tore through the window.
The game had begun.
---
From above, Aiden watched with growing anticipation.
"Here comes the storm…"
He smiled and vanished into the night, ready to intervene if the balance tipped too far.
But for now, the players were in place, the board was set, and the war for Star City's soul had just begun.
*****
You can support me by joining my Patreon and get upto 60 chapters in advance.
patreon.com/Eden_Translation