Chapter 464: Welcome Home, My Peerless Hero

The black Red Flag sedan, like a drop of ink melting into the night, silently glided over the sleeping streets of Capital City.

Outside the window were the familiar red walls and gray tiles, the crooked old locust tree at the corner, the earthly, tranquil hum of daily life.

Lu Qingshan leaned against the back seat, and the chilling aura that had frozen everything inside Geneva Castle was slowly melting, replaced by the gentle warmth of his native soil.

Wang Shanghong sat beside Lu Qingshan, constantly observing the young man, her heart full of countless emotions. Who could have imagined that this young man, whose brows bore a hint of fatigue, had just, thousands of miles away, in a single night, shifted the entire world's order.

The car finally stopped at the gate of Fuqiang Hutong 23 Courtyard.

The vermilion door was ajar, warm light spilling through the crack.

"Comrade Qingshan, I won't go in," Wang Shanghong turned her head, her voice solemn, "The chiefs mean that even the biggest matters can wait until you've rested. Home is always your harbor."

Lu Qingshan nodded, pushed the door open and stepped out.

"Woof! Woof woof!"

He and Qingjun had just set foot in the courtyard when a massive black silhouette burst from behind the screen wall, gusting a wind, leapt to his feet, its tail whirring like a high‑speed propeller.

It was Jin Hu.

It didn't pounce as usual; instead it nudged Lu Qingshan's calf with its big head, emitting a low whine from its throat, as if voicing endless longing.

Lu Qingshan crouched, rubbing its sleek, oily head, feeling a wave of softness in his heart.

The main house's curtain was pulled aside, and Lin Yue'e stepped out.

She wore a simple home‑wear, her hair loosely tied at the back of her head; seeing the familiar figure in the courtyard, she halted, her always‑gentle eyes instantly reddening. She saw the deep, unhidden fatigue beneath his calm exterior.

She didn't ask about the thrilling events in London or New York, nor the clashing swords in Geneva.

She simply hurried forward, brushed away an imaginary speck of dust from Lu Qingshan's shoulder, her voice a little hoarse.

"It's good that you're back."

She reached out, gently caressing his cheek, "You've lost weight, endured so much hardship out there…"

All the words in the world condensed into these plain few sentences.

Lu Qingshan grasped her hand, the hand that had stirred clouds across Europe now felt only warm and steady.

"Dad, where are Mom?"

"They're both inside waiting for you two, Qingjun, hurry in; the dishes have been reheated many times."

Entering the warm main hall, the table already held several homestyle dishes.

Lu Hua and Wang Guilan were seated at the table; seeing their sons arrive, the elderly couple, along with the older siblings, quickly rose.

Tears instantly welled in Wang Guilan's eyes; she clasped the hands of her second and fourth sons, scanning them up and down, murmuring, "My son, finally you're back, finally you're back…"

Lu Hua said nothing, but stepped forward, extending his calloused hand, gripping Lu Qingshan's shoulder so hard it seemed to sink into flesh. He stared intently into his son's eyes, those eyes that had witnessed countless storms, filled with lingering fear, pride, and an indescribable complexity. After a long moment, he forced a sentence out between his teeth: "It's good you're back. As long as a person returns whole—head to tail—that's better than anything!"

"Dad!"

A soft, mushy voice came from inside the room.

Lu Qingshan's heart, in that instant, completely melted.

He hurried into the inner room, where Xiaoxue wore a pink nightgown, cradling a half‑person‑tall, comically shaped Radish Doll, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she stared at the doorway.

Seeing Lu Qingshan, her little face lit up instantly; she tossed the doll, spread her tiny hands and leapt toward him.

"Dad! Hold me!"

Lu Qingshan scooped his daughter into his arms; her small, soft body exuded a milky scent, a treasure he could never obtain even after conquering the whole world.

He buried his face in his daughter's nape and inhaled deeply.

All fatigue, all bloodshed, vanished in that moment.

"Xiaoxue, have you missed dad?"

"I have!" The little one clung to his neck, planted a forceful kiss on his face, drool smearing his cheek, "It's been over two months; Xiaoxue thinks of dad every day!"

The meal was simple yet warm.

Lu Qingshan lifted a piece of his wife's homemade braised pork; it was fatty yet not greasy, melting in his mouth, and the familiar sauce, with a hint of sweetness, exploded on his palate. That flavor made the cold filet steaks and caviar of Geneva Castle seem like a pile of soulless wax. He knew this was the taste of victory, the taste of home.

At the table, no one mentioned anything outside. Wang Guilan kept serving her sons, while Lu Hua occasionally removed fish bones for his granddaughter.

The flavor of home could smooth over everything.

Halfway through the meal, the living‑room phone rang.

Lin Yue'e went over, answered, listened for a few sentences, then covered the handset with a strange expression and said to Lu Qingshan, "It's Ye Ning calling; she said… there's a minor issue in New York, let me let you hear it."

Lu Qingshan took the phone, and before he could speak, heard David Cohen's pig‑like howl on the other end.

"Oh! My God! Boss! The Feng Hais Family has filed for bankruptcy protection! The German Bank's stock fell 98%! It's worthless! Our Short Selling profits… the numbers have already burned out the Xinghan servers! Ye Ning is using an abacus! She's gone mad, I'm mad too! Can we start winding down?!"

Immediately after, Ye Ning's voice, restrained excitement, said, "Boss, David's gone crazy. Our profits are incalculable; the next step…"

Lu Qingshan glanced at his daughter, who was busily gnawing a chicken leg, oil smeared on her mouth, and, into the handset, said in an unchallengeable, icy tone, "Let him be quiet; you handle it."

"Let him quiet down, you take care of it."

"Xiaoxue is eating."

He said that and hung up.

On the other end, Ye Ning and David Cohen, still holding the hung‑up phone, stared at each other in the New York dawn, disheveled in the wind.

…

Night had deepened.

Lu Qingshan finished washing his daughter, then carried her back to her cozy little bedroom.

Xiaoxue clutched the huge Radish Doll, lying on the bed, her bright big eyes wide with anticipation as she looked at him.

"Dad, tell a story."

"Alright, what story shall we tell today?"

"Pull the radish!" the little one exclaimed, raising the doll in his hand.

Lu Qingshan smiled.

The father picked up the fairy‑tale book whose pages were already a bit curled, sat at the bedside, and in a voice never before used—gentle—began to speak slowly.

"Grandpa planted a radish, and he said to the radish, grow, grow, radish, may you grow sweet! Grow, grow, radish, may you grow big…"

His voice was so gentle it could melt winter snow. Yet only he knew that when he reached that line, the image that rose in his mind was Europe's tangled, rotten "old radish".

"Grandpa went to pull the radish, hey‑yo hey‑yo, couldn't pull… Grandma came to help, hey‑yo hey‑yo, couldn't pull…"

In his mind flashed Feng Hais, DuPont, Qiao Nason… those faces twisted by Fear and humiliation.

Outside the window, the Capital City night was quiet.

Inside, it was the warmest moment between father and daughter.

That demon king who, in Geneva, made all of Europe tremble, at this moment was merely a father at the bedside, telling his daughter a bedtime story.

And every word of the story, far away in Europe, turned into a blood‑soaked reality.