Forced Marking of an S-Class Alpha - Chapter 1

Hong Kong, the eve of a typhoon’s landfall. Victoria Harbour was drowning in a sticky, humid darkness.

The rain fell in torrents, like countless icy snakes slithering down neon signs, swallowing the entire city whole. The air was thick with the briny tang of sea breeze, the cloying scent of congealed grease from roast meat shops, and the cheap pheromones of those in the back alleys, always ready to fight or fuck.

Mong Kok, the alley behind Golden Dragon Ice Room, in the basement.

Smack!

Shen Xiuming, the second young master of the Shen family, was kicked like a dead dog. He slammed hard against a plastic crate overflowing with empty beer bottles, his face covered in blood, so wretched he couldn’t even scream.

“Crying? You know how to cry now? Why weren’t you so soft-hearted when you were taking our money?”

Sang Biao sat shirtless on a grease-stained folding stool, the dragon tattoo on his back seeming to come alive with every ripple of his muscles. He toyed with a knife, its tip skewering a piece of dripping char siu.

Chewing the meat, he snarled, “Second Young Master Shen, you think we’re just some low-life thugs, huh? Too stupid to read, too easy to fool?”

“B-Biao… Brother Biao…” Shen Xiuming stammered, lifting his head from the shattered glass. His face was a mess of snot and tears, stripping him of any semblance of a wealthy young master. “It was an accident… A real accident! The shipment at Kwai Chung Terminal—”

“Accident my ass!”

Sang Biao swallowed the meat in one gulp and slammed his foot onto Shen Xiuming’s hand, grinding it into the floor. “I’ve run that route for two years! I know the police shift changes better than my own family tree! And you’re telling me this special shipment just happened to get hit?”

He leaned down, his breath reeking of stale smoke as he hissed into Shen Xiuming’s face, “Shen Xiuming, do you have any idea who that shipment was for? It was headed to Deep Water Bay, a gift for Young Master Fu to use at his banquet next month!”

At the mention of the “Fu family,” Shen Xiuming’s pupils shrank. He went limp, as if the bones had been ripped from his body.

In Hong Kong, if you crossed the police, you could hire a barrister. But if you crossed the Fu family, you wouldn’t even have a place to scatter your ashes. In the underworld, the name Fu Sihan was the King of Hell’s own ledger of life and death.

“I bet my entire life savings on this shipment just to get on the Fu family’s good side!” Sang Biao’s rage escalated, the bloodshot veins in his eyes bulging. “Now the shipment’s gone! How am I supposed to satisfy Young Master Fu’s appetite? With my life?!”

“I… I’ll pay! I have money! The Shen family has money!” Shen Xiuming wailed, clawing at the muddy ground.

“Money? What good is your fucking money now? Can money buy back the Fu family’s lost face?”

Sang Biao sneered, his eyes instantly turning vicious. “Since you fucked this up, someone has to take the fall. That’s the rule in Hong Kong. I don’t have time to play ‘three cuts, six holes’ with you.”

“I’ll just take your right hand, pack it in a box, and send it to the Fu family. Maybe that’ll cool Young Master Fu’s temper!”

“Hold him down!”

Two thugs immediately rushed forward, roughly pinning Shen Xiuming to the slaughter table. The board was caked in old pig fat and dried blood. Shen Xiuming struggled desperately, his voice cracking as he screamed:

“Help—Brother! Save me!!”

Sang Biao raised the boning knife high. He was truly desperate, and he had no intention of holding back.

Just as the blade was about to fall, the canvas curtain at the back alley, the one used to block the wind and hide the ugliness, was gently lifted by the tip of an umbrella.

The newcomer was simply too “clean.”

He wore a charcoal-black suit tailored by an old Central district master, its cut impeccable. His striking silver hair shimmered with a cold light. From every strand of hair to the tips of his leather shoes, he exuded the refined detachment of a man long accustomed to high status.

Sang Biao narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the silver hair and the black umbrella supporting the man’s body. He grinned, revealing a row of stained yellow teeth, and sneered, “And here I was wondering who was making such a grand entrance. Turns out it’s the Shen family’s famously ‘sickly beauty.'”

He didn’t lower the knife. Instead, he tapped Shen Xiuming’s face with the flat of the blade. His eyes, like hooks, crawled over Shen Yanzhou with a greasy intensity. His tone turned flippant: “You’re a real pretty one, aren’t you? The kind of beauty only grown in a gilded nest like Central. What’s the matter, Young Master? Dragging your crippled leg into a rat hole like this? Planning to use that pretty face to beg for your brother’s life?”

The surrounding thugs erupted in a chorus of crude laughter.

The air in the room instantly thickened with the clashing scents of Alpha pheromones, charged with blatant aggression and provocation.

But Shen Yanzhou acted as if he couldn’t smell a thing, not even flinching.

“Move,” he said, his voice cold and clear.

The thugs blocking his path, strangely subdued by his inexplicable aura, instinctively parted to create a way through.

Holding a black umbrella, Shen Yanzhou walked slowly to the table. He didn’t even glance at Shen Xiuming, who was sobbing and sniveling on the table, but simply looked at Sang Biao with a faint expression.

“Brother Biao, if shouting loudly could bring the goods back, what would we need the police for?”

“You can get the goods back?” Sang Biao’s fleshy face twitched as he stared at him suspiciously. “The goods have already been seized.”

“Not seized. Intercepted.”

Shen Yanzhou pulled a tablet from his bag with one hand, swiped it twice with an elegant motion, and then pushed it in front of Sang Biao.

“Kwai Chung Terminal, Bonded Warehouse No. 2, Container No. W-709.”

Shen Yanzhou’s tone was flat. “An hour ago, I used Class 1 Freight Forwarder privileges to modify the bill of lading key. Now that container is under ‘Administrative Freeze’. No one can take it out, and no one can seal it, except me.”

Sang Biao’s eyes bulged as he stared intently at the glaring red “LOCKED” on the screen.

The cargo was still there! As long as the cargo remained, he wouldn’t be thrown into the sea by the Fu family!

“Give me the password!” Sang Biao’s breath came in heavy gasps. He dropped the knife and reached out to grab Shen Yanzhou’s collar.

Shen Yanzhou stood his ground, not dodging, but simply tilting his head slightly to avoid the dirty hand. His eyes revealed undisguised disgust.

“This tablet is connected to my private cloud.”

“If it detects that my heart rate has dropped to zero, or if the tablet is offline for more than five minutes, the key will automatically be destroyed. At the same time, the real manifest of this shipment will be sent directly to the personal email of the Commissioner of the General Administration of Customs.”

Shen Yanzhou raised his gaze, his gray eyes reflecting Sang Biao’s astonished face. “Brother Biao, you know exactly how much contraband is in this shipment. Guess what Fu Sihan will do when the time comes—will he turn against Customs to protect you, or will he mince you up and throw you into the high seas to feed the fish?”

The basement, which had been brimming with murderous intent just moments ago, fell silent, leaving only the sound of the torrential rain outside.

“You’re playing me? If you have the shipment, why is it showing as abnormal?” Sang Biao’s voice was hoarse.

“You should ask your loyal dog about that.”

Shen Yanzhou tapped the screen lightly, pulling up an encrypted chat log and a transfer slip, then pushed it forward.

“Your top lieutenant, A Bao, secretly contacted the Vietnam Gang, altered the bill of lading, and planned to embezzle this shipment to make a profit and run away. If I hadn’t locked it down quickly, your goods would have already turned into US dollars on the high seas.”

A Bao, the flat-topped thug who had been cowering in the corner pretending to be dead, instantly turned pale.

“Boss! Don’t listen to his lies! This crippled bastard is framing me…”

“I think you’re courting death!!”

With the evidence undeniable, Sang Biao roared, grabbed the knife from the floor, and charged forward like a mad bull, stabbing A Bao directly through the calf.

“Ah—!!”

The heart-wrenching scream tore through the air as blood instantly stained the floor red, mixing with dirty water and flowing to Shen Yanzhou’s feet.

He frowned slightly and took a half-step back, as if worried about getting his expensive leather shoes dirty. He was utterly sick of this kind of low-class bloody drama.

“Brother Biao, you can take your time cleaning house.”

He walked up to the still-trembling Shen Xiuming and kicked him hard in the back of the knee.

“Get up, you useless piece of trash.”

Shen Xiuming scrambled to his feet, cowering behind Shen Yanzhou, not even daring to glance at Sang Biao.

Shen Yanzhou turned his back to the room full of desperate men.

“Five minutes after I leave this alley, the encryption key will be sent to your phone.”

As he reached the entrance, he paused, revealing half of his pale, exquisitely sculpted face. His eyes held no emotion. “Brother Biao, you now owe the Shen family a favor. As for the ‘scare fee’ for tonight…”

His gaze swept over A Bao, who was still screaming on the floor. A cruel smile touched his lips. “I think that leg of his would be quite suitable.”

“I’m not a cripple, but after tonight, someone else will be.”

With that, he opened his black umbrella and stepped out into the torrential rain.

Only after the black umbrella had completely vanished into the curtain of rain did Sang Biao collapse into his chair, realizing his palm, still gripping the knife, was drenched in cold sweat.

He stared at the dark alleyway and spat a blood-flecked glob of saliva onto the ground. “Damn it… what a beautiful madman.”

****

Mid-mountain, Shen Family Mansion.

The glittering lights of Victoria Harbour sprawled across the foothills.

It was already two in the morning when Shen Yanzhou returned home. He had already stripped off the suit that reeked of the basement’s dampness and smoke, tossing it to the servants. He took a hot shower and changed into a silk robe.

His composure in the basement had been a complete facade. Without pheromones to protect him, the high-concentration Alpha pressure had sent needle-like pain shooting through his central nervous system.

However, when he stepped into the brightly lit living room, he wasn’t greeted with gratitude but by a flying teacup.

Smash!

The exquisite blue-and-white porcelain shattered at his feet. The scalding tea splashed onto his ankle, instantly turning the skin a vivid red.

“You dared to provoke a mad dog like Sang Biao?! Do you have a death wish, or are you trying to drag the entire Shen family down to be buried with the Hongxing Gang? The underworld has its rules. You’ve broken them—who will ever dare to do business with the Shen family again?!”

“If Xiu Ming hadn’t been so incredibly lucky, you would have gotten him killed today!”

Shen Yanzhou stood still. His gaze bypassed his furious Second Uncle and landed on his cousin, Shen Xiuming, who was huddled on the leather sofa, wrapped in a blanket and playing the victim.

“Sometimes I think the human heart is filthier than a mud-caked basement.”

Shen Yanzhou sneered. “Second Uncle, instead of shouting at me, you’d better go find out what stupid thing your precious son did.”

He pointed at Shen Xiuming. “For a pittance of black-market kickbacks, he actually dared to smuggle high-risk prohibited suppressants on the Shen family’s official merchant ships! Do you even know what the charges for that are?”

“If Customs had found it, the Shen family’s three-generation-old exclusive shipping license would have been revoked instantly! Thousands of containers would be stranded at the port! The compensation wouldn’t just be fifty million—it would be five hundred million! The entire Shen family would face bankruptcy liquidation!”

“If I hadn’t discovered it early and intercepted the shipment, do you think he’d be crying at home right now or picking up soap in Stanley Prison?”

Shen Hong’s mouth hung open, his face ashen. He stared at Shen Xiuming’s cowardly figure, unable to utter a word.

“Enough.” Old Master Shen, who had been sitting in the armchair with his eyes closed, finally opened them. His sharp gaze scrutinized his most prized grandson.

Beauty, intelligence, cunning, and ruthlessness, Shen Yanzhou excelled in every aspect. Unfortunately… he was a flavorless Omega.

“The matter was handled efficiently.” Old Master Shen’s voice was old and low, betraying no emotion. “But Yanzhou, this kind of knife-edge operation is not a long-term solution. You are twenty-nine this year. Your body…”

That topic again. It was like a festering sore, repeatedly torn open.

Shen Yanzhou pressed his temples, his voice hoarse. “Grandfather, I will adopt a child and train an heir…”

“None of that is reliable!” Old Master Shen interrupted, his tone hardening. “The head of the Shen family must have a powerful backer. Especially with your condition. Without a formidable Alpha for protection, the hungry wolves of Hong Kong will tear you to shreds the moment I die! Which of those shareholders would submit to an Omega who can’t even go into heat?”

“So?” Shen Yanzhou looked up, his silver eyes gleaming with a cold light.

“An arranged marriage.” Old Master Shen spat out the words.

Shen Yanzhou sneered, his eyes filled with absurdity. “Who is it this time? That idiot from the Su family who only knows how to play with young models? Or that spineless coward from the Tang family who faints at the sight of blood?”

“The Su family? The Tang family?” Old Master Shen snorted coldly, the prayer beads in his hand spinning noticeably faster. “How could such small fry satisfy the Shen family’s current appetite?”

He stared at Shen Yanzhou, his cloudy eyes suddenly flashing with sharp light. “It’s the Fu family of Hong Kong. Fu Sihan.”

The air instantly froze.

Even the sound of the rain seemed to vanish.

Fu Sihan, the eldest young master of the Hong Kong Fu family. So, they had hooked a big fish with a direct line to the heavens.

But it was said that he had once thrown his own uncle into the high seas to feed the sharks. The number of Betas and Omegas he had played with and ruined was countless.

“So, Grandfather, you want me to go to my death?” Shen Yanzhou’s voice trembled slightly, not from fear, but from fury.

“This is your best option.” Old Master Shen avoided his gaze. “The Fu family initiated the marriage proposal. He doesn’t mind that you’re a flavorless Omega. In fact… he specifically asked for you. Yanzhou, this is the only value your skin has left. Don’t waste it.”

He specifically asked for me? That Fu Sihan, whom I’ve barely seen a few times?

Old Master Shen walked over and patted his shoulder. “The engagement is on the tenth of next month. You’ll meet him in a few days first. If you refuse, then the shipping lines your father left behind… I’ll have no choice but to hand them over to Xiu Ming to manage.”

Using my parents’ legacy to blackmail me again.

Shen Yanzhou’s hand, hanging at his side, clenched tightly, his nails digging deep into his palm. He stared at the old man before him, who kept spouting “family duty,” and at his Second Uncle and Cousin, who were both wearing gloating expressions.

This family has long since rotted to the core.

Since you’re so eager to push me into the fire, so certain I’ll be manipulated like some weak Omega…

Shen Yanzhou took a deep breath, and his previously tense shoulders suddenly relaxed. He looked up, and on his pale, exquisite face, a smile slowly bloomed—one that was utterly gorgeous yet utterly dangerous.

“Alright,” Shen Yanzhou said softly.

“Grandfather, since Mr. Fu thinks so highly of a cripple like me…” He walked up to the old man and thoughtfully straightened his collar, his eyes as deep as a pool.

“Then I will marry him.”

Support