The rooftop of the Crimson Circle's private dining club had transformed from a venue for polite conversation into an arena where social standing was both weapon and prize. The air hummed with tension, thick enough to slice with one of the silver butter knives laid out on the linen-draped tables. This was no longer just a gathering of the city's elite youth—it had become a battlefield.
Not of fists or blades—but of names, net worths, and unspoken hierarchy.
And tonight, Lin Feng had just thrown a chair at the pecking order.
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### **The Spark That Lit the Fire**
It began with what appeared to be a simple gesture—a gift presented without fanfare.
