Forced Marking of an S-Class Alpha - Chapter 5

“Let go!”

“Pull back your pheromones! Do you want to die?” Shen Yanzhou’s voice was barely louder than the click of a lighter.

But the man was surprisingly obedient. He released his grip and took two steps back. The S-rank pheromones that had been crushing Shen Yanzhou’s bones vanished instantly.

Shen Yanzhou leaned against the liquor cabinet, a cold sweat breaking out on his back from the intense pressure. He caught his breath, turned on the living room lights, and stared coldly at the “dog” he had paid a fortune to buy from the Kowloon Walled City, a place that devoured people whole.

Even though he had expected it, seeing the man’s face clearly under the bright lights made Shen Yanzhou’s breath hitch. He had seen the most beautiful men in Hong Kong, but this was different.

Too wild.

The man stood there like a storm from the Kowloon Walled City, brought into this 26-degree temperature-controlled mansion.

He was soaked to the bone. The torrential rain had plastered his tattered tank top to his body like a second skin, clinging to muscles that looked as hard as granite. Every muscle seemed built for killing or survival.

Rainwater streamed down his messy black hair and traced the contours of his face.

His face was undeniably handsome. He didn’t look like the street thugs from Kowloon Walled City but more like a fallen aristocrat. His eyes were a deep, dark black. When he stared at you, they held no emotion, like a wolf that hadn’t yet been fed.

He was a top-tier piece of meat.

Whether it was this body, built for killing and sex, or this face that could drive the arrogant socialites of Central insane, the thirty million spent on him felt like a decent investment.

At the very least, he wasn’t an eyesore to have around the house.

Shen Yanzhou steadied his breathing, forcing down the Omega’s instinctive shiver before a top-tier Alpha. Barefoot, he stepped onto the soft carpet and leaned lazily into the large black sofa in the center of the living room.

Then, he lifted his eyelids and looked down at the man with a cold, detached gaze.

“Come here.”

The man didn’t hesitate. He strode forward on long legs and stopped barefoot before the sofa.

His nearly two-meter frame cast a massive shadow that instantly enveloped Shen Yanzhou. Even with his pheromones suppressed, he still radiated an unsettling aggressiveness.

Shen Yanzhou frowned in disgust. He pulled a long, thin cigarette from the pack on the coffee table and tapped the carpet with the hand holding it. “Kneel.”

S-rank Alphas were naturally arrogant. This was even more true for a man like this, a desperate fighter who had clearly seen blood and crawled out of a pile of corpses. Their bones were usually tougher than the steel bars of Kowloon Walled City.

Shen Yanzhou’s hand moved silently toward the Browning pistol hidden under the sofa cushion. If this wild dog dared to show a single fang, he would press it against the man’s forehead instantly.

To his surprise, the man didn’t hesitate for a second. He didn’t even flinch.

He took a half-step back, bent his knees, and dropped to the floor.

The movement was clean and efficient, carrying a strange, disciplined elegance.

With this single kneel, the oppressive pressure from his towering height finally vanished.

Shen Yanzhou felt much more comfortable. He took out his lighter, lit the cigarette, and took a deep drag.

Then, he extended his bare right foot to lift the man’s chin, wanting to test the “dog’s” bite.

The foot was exquisitely shaped, with a delicate, rounded toe and a graceful arch. The skin was so pale it was almost translucent, gleaming like fine porcelain under the light.

But on that pale, cold instep, a stark scar remained from the hot tea Shen Hong had splashed on him days ago. The coin-sized swelling looked jarringly vivid against his porcelain skin.

Just as his toes were about to touch the man’s chin, a large, rough, and burning hand shot up without warning, clamping around his slender ankle.

The grip wasn’t heavy, but it held an undeniable force.

Shen Yanzhou’s eyes turned ice-cold. His hand, hidden beneath the sofa cushion, instantly found the cold grip of his gun, his finger tightening on the trigger.

“Do you have a death wish?” His voice was laced with killing intent.

“You’re injured here,” the man said, his gaze fixed on the swollen area. His rough fingertips carefully avoided the wound, but the sheer heat from his palm made Shen Yanzhou tremble.

“What’s it to you? Let go.”

The man looked up, his dark eyes staring straight at him. “This foot won’t do,” he said seriously.

“I’m a rough man. My muscles are hard, and my skin is tough.” As he spoke, he slowly lowered his head. In this humiliating position, he gently rubbed his cheek against the sole of Shen Yanzhou’s foot.

“Your right foot is injured. You can’t put much weight on it, and it’ll hurt to step on me.”

“Use your left foot instead.”

“Your left foot isn’t injured. It’ll be more comfortable for you.”

Shen Yanzhou’s fingers froze on the gun’s grip.

He had seen cowards, he had seen people beg for mercy, and he had seen stubborn men refuse to yield even in death. But he had never seen anyone so bizarre as to worry about his benefactor’s foot hurting while being held at gunpoint.

“Are you a masochist?” Shen Yanzhou withdrew his foot and replaced it with his uninjured left one. He stepped on the man’s shoulder without hesitation and even ground his foot down firmly.

“Since you want to be stepped on so badly, then take it.”

Instead of flinching, the man straightened his back to give Shen Yanzhou a more stable footing. His submissive compliance strangely extinguished most of the anger in Shen Yanzhou’s heart.

How boring.

What’s the point of arguing with a stupid dog?

Shen Yanzhou retracted his foot and leaned back into the sofa. His gaze swept over the man’s broad shoulders and firm chest muscles.

This body is definitely top-tier.

I wonder if he’s just a clumsy brute in bed.

“Tell me about your background, where you come from, and how you ended up in the black market.” Shen Yanzhou’s voice turned cold. “I want the truth. If I find out you’re making up a story…”

He extended the fingers holding his cigarette and pointed to the dark, churning waters of Victoria Harbour outside the window.

“I won’t mind throwing you in to feed the fish. The fish must be starving in this weather.”

The man fell silent for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts.

“For as long as I can remember, I was fighting for scraps of food in the cage homes of Sham Shui Po.” His speech was slow, his voice deep and raspy. “I didn’t have a name back then. Everyone just called me ‘Ah Gou’ or ‘Wild Boy.'”

“Later, to survive, I went to the Kowloon Walled City to work as muscle for a gambling den. You’ve probably heard of it. It was a lawless place where life was cheap. As long as you could fight, you could eat.”

“Muscle?” Shen Yanzhou raised an eyebrow. “What exactly did you do? Just stand guard?”

“Not exactly.” The man shook his head. “Sometimes I had to collect debts. When gamblers lost their shirts or ran off after borrowing from loan sharks, I had to bring them back. I don’t like using knives, it’s too messy. I usually just use my hands.”

“With your bare hands?”

“Yeah. Break their arms and legs, or dislocate their jaw, and they’ll behave.” The man’s tone remained flat. “Later, a blind man running a stall said I was good and told me to fight in underground boxing matches. Five hundred for a win. If I lost, I got nothing and had to pay my own medical bills.”

“How long did you do that?”

“Five years. Eventually, no one would fight me anymore, so I had to find other work.”

Shen Yanzhou sneered. That’s one hell of a rough resume.

“Then how did you end up in the black market? If no one could beat you, how were you captured?”

At the mention of this, the man frowned slightly, a look of confusion and annoyance crossing his face. He looked almost foolish.

“A few days ago, right before the typhoon hit, I was eating a cheap meal at a tea restaurant in a Mong Kok back alley. I was so hungry I didn’t notice what was happening behind me.”

“Someone hit me from behind with a club. It was a nasty blow. Before I could even turn around, a needle was plunged into me. When I woke up, I was already in that iron cage, unable to move a muscle.”

He kept his eyes fixed on Shen Yanzhou.

“You’re telling me you got knocked out with a blunt object just because you were eating?” Shen Yanzhou’s voice dripped with skepticism. “You’re an S-class Alpha. Even if you were ambushed, you shouldn’t have been completely helpless.”

“As you can see, I’m not the brightest,” the man replied, a self-deprecating smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looked up to meet Shen Yanzhou’s gaze. “Besides, I hadn’t eaten in four days.”

“Four days without food?”

“Yeah.” The man nodded, his expression earnest. “Back then, if someone had offered me a bowl of barbecued pork rice, I would have given them my life, let alone let them knock me out.”

Shen Yanzhou fell silent for a moment. The man’s story sounded like a cliché from a cheap Hong Kong movie, but in the chaotic, moldy, and desperate Kowloon Walled City, such things happened every day. The details were consistent and realistic, making it hard to dismiss as a lie.

Still, he only half-believed it.

The man wore cheap clothes and told a story of hardship, but he carried himself with an air that no common thug fighting for scraps in a cage home could ever possess.

And then there was his physique. Though his muscles lacked the refined form of a trained athlete, they were incredibly efficient. It didn’t look like the kind of strength built in underground fights, but rather the result of some kind of… long-term, standardized training.

Shen Yanzhou rose and walked barefoot to the bar. He dropped a few ice cubes into a crystal glass, poured it full of ice water, and turned to offer it to the man.

“Drink.”

The man froze, seemingly unable to process this sudden “gift.” He reached out, took the delicate crystal glass, and drained it in one gulp.

He had completely lowered his guard.

A flicker of surprise crossed Shen Yanzhou’s eyes.

“I don’t care about your past,” he said, settling back onto the sofa. “And you won’t try to pry into mine. Once you cross this threshold, your old life is over.”

“In this house, you have only one job.”

“Obey me. Be my dog. Do you understand?”

The man set the glass down and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. He bowed his head again. “I understand.”

“Since you’ve cut ties with your past, I won’t bother with your old name,” Shen Yanzhou said casually. “I spent thirty million on you… That’s enough to buy several bodyguards.”

“Since you’re so valuable, your name from now on will be ‘Thirty Million.'”

“Thirty Million?” The man chewed on the words, his expression blank.

“What? Think it sounds bad?” Shen Yanzhou raised an eyebrow. “Or do you feel like it objectifies you?”

“No.” The man shook his head, the corners of his mouth actually curling up slightly. “I like it.”

“It sounds expensive.”

Shen Yanzhou: “…”

This wild dog’s train of thought is truly bizarre.

“Similarly, you don’t need to know my name. In this house, you only need to call me ‘Master.'”

“Yes, Master.”

The word “Master” was spoken in a low, lingering tone that seemed to soothe some of the irritation in Shen Yanzhou’s heart.

He rose and walked to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a glass of strong spirits, using the reflection in the glass to observe the man behind him.

“One last question.” Shen Yanzhou swirled the glass. “Why did you try to sneak attack me from behind just now?”

“I did not sneak attack Master.”

“I’m here to ‘fulfill my obligations,'” the man said, still kneeling, his face obscured.

“Fulfill your obligations?” Shen Yanzhou turned and leaned against the liquor cabinet.

“I assumed that when a Master pays so much to buy me, it’s for… sex,” the man said, looking up. His eyes were a strange mix of clarity and turbidity. “The people at the auction told me that Omegas who spend tens of millions on an Alpha are usually just lonely and desperate. They buy us just to use in bed.”

“…”

Crack. The crystal glass in Shen Yanzhou’s hand fractured. He laughed, a sharp sound born of sheer frustration.

“Sex?” He strode forward, grabbed the man’s damp collar, and yanked him close.

Their noses nearly touched, their breaths mingling.

“Do you think I’m like those fat, useless bastards who only think with their dicks?”

“Or do you think I’m so desperate that I’d pick up some random man from a trash heap and go into heat?”

They were too close.

The man was so close he could see Shen Yanzhou’s thick, fan-like eyelashes and his own reflection in those silver-grey eyes. He could even smell the Omega’s intoxicating scent.

“It’s different,” the man said.

“Different how?” Shen Yanzhou sneered.

The man’s gaze dropped to the Omega’s thin lips, just inches away. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Because Master is too beautiful.”

“So beautiful… I want to die on you.”

“Hah.”

How crude.

At the blunt, obscene remark, Shen Yanzhou let go of the man’s collar and stepped back. He wiped his hand in disgust and shot the man a cold look. “Sex? You think you’re worthy?”

He tapped the man’s firm abdomen with a finger. “I only bought you for your S-rank blood. Your sole purpose is to knot me and get me pregnant. Until then, that’s all you’re good for.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Master,” the man replied softly.

“But not now.” Shen Yanzhou rubbed his temples, the tension headache from his long day making him feel drowsy.

“I’m too tired. I’m in no mood to deal with that thing of yours.”

He raised a finger and pointed to the thick shag rug in the corner of the living room, far from his bedroom.

“You sleep there tonight.”

With that, Shen Yanzhou turned away without another glance and headed toward the bedroom. Just as he reached the door and placed his hand on the knob, he seemed to remember something. He tossed one last command down to the man still kneeling in the center of the living room.

“Turn off the lights.”

“Yes, Master.”

As the lights went out, darkness rushed in like a tide.

The man obediently lay down, waiting until the faint click of the bedroom door locking echoed from the second floor.

In the darkness, he slowly opened his eyes. The dull, sluggish gaze he had worn before instantly sharpened, turning piercing as he mentally traced the exact location of the bedroom above.

He rubbed his rough fingertips together, savoring the memory of the jade-smooth ankle he had just touched. His eyes gradually darkened.

Bury myself inside him, knot him, get him pregnant…

How dare he make such an invitation to me?

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