Mornings in Sicily typically commenced with the robust aroma of espresso and a thin mist veiling the rolling hills. However, for the Moretti family, this morning marked a crimson ritual—the weekly shooting practice. In a private valley, heavily guarded by mercenaries, the Capos and core members of the clan gathered to discern who remained worthy of the prestigious Moretti name.
Lucian emerged from a black limousine, guided by Silvio. He wore a slim-fit black suit that hung slightly loose on his still-emaciated frame. Yet, the manner in which he walked—composed, with chin upturned and footfalls that made no sound—sent a chill down the spines of the guards at the gate.
"Look who decided to grace us with his presence," a familiar voice jeered.
Valerio Moretti stood in the center of the range, flanked by his private security. He appeared elegant, yet his cunning eyes could not mask his astonishment at Lucian's actual appearance. Beside him, Dante stood with his right arm encased in a thin cast, his face turning deathly pale every time his gaze met Lucian's.
"I thought you were busy arranging your own funeral, Lucian," Valerio said, chambering a round in his silver Beretta.
Ryu Shin, within Lucian's body, merely met his gaze with flat indifference. "Funerals are for the weak, Brother. I am here to ensure we know exactly who will be buried first."
A Test of Strength Before the Patriarch
Don Marco Moretti sat in a leather chair beneath a large canopy, observing with the eyes of a hawk. Around him, the Capos whispered amongst themselves, mocking Lucian, who usually trembled at the mere sight of a firearm.
"The rules are simple," Marco's heavy voice echoed. "Moving targets at fifty meters. Five shots. If you fail to strike the center, you are not fit to sit at the dinner table tonight."
Dante stepped forward first. With his one healthy hand, he fired brutally. The results were respectable, but the fury clouding his mind caused him to miss the final shot.
Valerio followed. He was a marksman. Five shots, all within the heart of the target. The Capos applauded. Valerio turned toward Lucian with a nauseating, triumphant smirk.
"Now... the youngest," Marco murmured, his tone laced with skepticism.
Silvio approached to hand Lucian a standard Glock, but Ryu Shin shook his head. His eyes were fixed on a table in the corner laden with heavy weaponry. He walked over and retrieved a .44 Magnum Revolver—a weapon with a recoil capable of shattering an adult male's wrist if handled incorrectly.
"He's mad," one guard whispered. "The boy will be thrown back by the first shot."
Ryu Shin stood at the firing line. He did not adopt a modern shooting stance. He stood perfectly erect, one hand tucked into his trouser pocket, the other holding the heavy Magnum as if it were a mere plastic toy.
Reverse-Flow Breathing Technique: First Stage Focus.
Ryu Shin circulated his Qi toward his right arm. He instantaneously reinforced his muscles and tendons, tempering his arm into something as hard as steel. In his eyes, time appeared to decelerate. The rapidly moving target now seemed to crawl like a snail.
BANG!
A single shot was discharged. The violent recoil of the Magnum was entirely absorbed by the flow of Qi in his shoulder. Lucian did not waver by so much as a millimeter.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The four subsequent shots were unleashed in rapid succession, in less than two seconds.
Absolute silence descended upon the shooting range. Don Marco rose from his chair. Silvio held his breath. Valerio dropped his cigarette to the ground.
The range officer ran toward the target and shouted with a trembling voice over the radio: "All... all through a single hole. The first shot pierced the center, and the other four followed the exact same path!"
Piercing the Oppressive Aura
"Impossible!" Valerio barked, his face flushing crimson. "You cheated! That weapon must have been modified!"
Ryu Shin spun the pistol on his finger with the expertise of a martial master and returned it to the table. He walked slowly toward Don Marco, passing Valerio as if the man were naught but dust on the road.
As he reached his father, the atmosphere beneath the canopy suddenly grew immensely heavy. Don Marco attempted to release his dominant aura—a mental pressure cultivated over decades as a king of the underworld. Normally, Lucian would have immediately knelt or fainted under such strain.
Instead, Ryu Shin countered. He released a fraction of his own Heavenly Demon aura. An intent to kill that was pure, ancient, and profoundly dark.
The Capos around the table suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Several of them instinctively retreated a few steps, their hands fumbling for their weapons out of sheer survival instinct.
Don Marco stared into his son's eyes. He did not see Lucian. He saw a predator far vaster than himself.
"Who are you?" Marco asked in a low voice, barely a whisper.
"I am your son, Don Marco," Ryu Shin replied with a deadly calm. "It is simply that I have ceased to be the prey. From this day forward, I am the hunter in this family."
Marco Moretti remained silent for a long time before finally erupting into a loud laugh—a laugh filled with both respect and wariness. "Grand! Very grand! It seems the poison... I mean, your 'illness,' has granted you a peculiar blessing."
Marco stood and clapped a hand on Lucian's shoulder. "Tonight, you shall sit at my right hand during the banquet. We shall discuss the troubled territories of Western Sicily."
Valerio clenched his fists until his nails pierced his palms. Western Sicily was his domain. Granting it to Lucian was an open declaration of war.
A Strategy of Fear
After the practice concluded, Ryu Shin walked toward his car. Silvio followed behind with an expression that was difficult to decipher.
"Young Master, what you did just now... it will trigger a storm," Silvio whispered.
"Let the storm come, Silvio," Ryu Shin answered without looking back. "I do not fear the storm. I am the storm."
Suddenly, his sharpened senses caught something. In the distance, atop a small hill overlooking the range, he saw the glint of a lens. A sniper? No. An intelligence agent.
Ryu Shin cast a piercing glare toward the hill for a single second before entering the vehicle.
Aboard that hill, Agent Sarah Vance of Interpol lowered her binoculars with trembling hands. She had been surveilling the Moretti family for two years, and she knew Lucian Moretti was the weakest link. Yet what she had just recorded on her camera defied all medical and military logic.
"Command, this is Vance," she spoke into her radio. "Update status on Subject 404, Lucian Moretti. He is no longer a victim. I repeat, the subject exhibits S-rank motor skills and aura. Reclassify him as: Red Level Threat."
Inside the moving car, Ryu Shin closed his eyes. He could feel his meridians throbbing with satisfaction from the recent expenditure of energy.
"Valerio will attempt to kill me tonight at the banquet," Ryu Shin murmured to Silvio. "Prepare my finest attire, Silvio. And prepare a small casket... I wish to present him with a surprise gift."