CHAPTER 147: CHAPTER 147: EACH ONE IS MORE UNRESTRAINED THAN THE LAST

The October air in Northcity had already turned cold, and the autumn wind cut sharp as a blade.

Where the blade passed, a carpet of gold was left in its wake.

Behind the golden locust trees stood a strict, suspended-gable quadrangle courtyard: slate-grey brick walls, a solemn lacquered red front gate, braced with brass knockers, guarded on both sides by a pair of stone lions polished smooth with time.

There was no name above the door, only four numbers: 1607.

This was the most tasteful club in Northcity, Prospect Hill, where the elite kids from The Quadrangle’s high-ranking families secretly gathered. It belonged to Simon Forrester.

Renee Winslow stepped out of the car, crunching golden locust leaves beneath her heels. The soft crackling mingled with the sound of the door opening.

The red lacquered door swung open, revealing Simon Forrester’s roguish, charming smile.

"Yo, Third Brother finally graces our humble place. Been half a year—thought you’d taken little Renee to settle down in the States!"

Behind Simon’s handsome face emerged an even more striking one—Frederick Yates, who bore a distinct resemblance to Jack Yates.

Frederick Yates raised his hand and knocked Simon Forrester on the head: "Settle your ass. My third brother is a dyed-in-the-wool military..."

Jack Yates lifted his eyelids, gaze stern, giving Frederick a chilling look: "Cut the crap. Park my car."

"Aye, right away." Frederick instantly darted out from behind the door, respectfully taking the car keys from Jack.

Simon quickly swung the door wide, stepping aside with a sycophantic grin: "This way, Third Brother—and Renee, too."

Renee Winslow gave Simon a courteous smile, but in the very next second, her face was pulled away by Jack Yates.

A long, powerful hand gripped her nape, pressing her cheek against his chest—the message plain as day: she wasn’t allowed to smile at other men, not even his friends.

Simon shook his head with a laugh, "Hopeless."

Renee deeply agreed—right, Jack Yates is a complete lunatic, there’s no saving him!

In the car, Jack had forced her to answer: Did she know what he wanted?

She did—of course Renee knew. She knew exactly: Jack Yates just wanted to conquer her.

Probably because he’d never tasted defeat. Arrogant as always, and now, frustrated by her resistance—he was indignant, unwilling to accept it, resorting to any means to break her, to claim her body and, now, her heart.

Renee could surrender anything else, but when it came to feelings, she couldn’t fool herself. If she didn’t like him, she just didn’t like him.

The harder Jack pushed, the less she could bring herself to like him.

Renee didn’t answer, nor did she bother to argue any further.

The two kept up a silent standoff in the car for more than ten minutes, only breaking when Jack got Simon’s call.

Now Jack acted like nothing was amiss, slinging an arm around Renee with affection as they walked into the courtyard.

"Third Brother’s here." Aiden Grant caught sight of Jack and called out with a smile.

Jack nodded coolly, barely reacting.

Aiden stepped up, handing him a Mount Taishon Buddha Light, smiling, "Heard you were coming, specially got this for you. The guys usually only smoke Golden Bricks."

Golden Bricks—thirty grand a carton, ten packs per, three grand a pack, the top shelf of the Yellow Crane Tower series.

But compared to the Mount Taishon Buddha Light Tin Can, it was night and day—a whole step down in class.

Mount Taishon Buddha Light Tin Can, nicknamed Little God Hand, latest market price: three hundred grand a carton, annual production less than a thousand, ultra-luxury, absolute top-tier smokes.

The kind of people who smoked these—they weren’t smoking tobacco, they were smoking identity.

But Jack Yates was different—he genuinely loved this cigarette, obsessed with its distinct sweet, tea-infused flavor.

Mount Taishon Buddha Light—the Rolls Royce of cigarettes, crafted with meticulous skill.

Made from thirty-year cellar-aged tobacco, with the freshest buds from pre-Qingming Mount Taishon Daughter Tea, supplemented by agarwood, using supercritical technology to extract the essence.

The final blend of sweet tea notes and mellow tobacco, rounded with agarwood, yielded an unrivaled, rich but never cloying, lingering taste.

Even the tin can box—the Little God Hand itself—had become a collectible-quality art piece.

Jack took the cigarette, mouth curling in a cold, rakish smile, biting down on the violet filter.

Aiden, quick as lightning, flicked his lighter and leaned in to light the smoke.

Renee stood to the side, taking it all in, once again marveling at Jack Yates’ underworld clout.

Top of the crop in The Capital Circle, a first-class business titan—none of it was an exaggeration.

Not just respected in The Quadrangle—hell, in Southea, this man was a legend. Not only could he scare the drug lords into panic, he could meddle in foreign government affairs. Ruthless, powerful, the real deal.

With a man that strong and dangerous, how could Renee not be afraid?

"What are you staring at?" Jack noticed the girl by his side gazing blankly straight ahead.

As luck would have it, Thomas Blackwood had just come through the crescent moon gate.

Renee snapped out of it, locking eyes with The Docklands’ Blackwood Family Crown Prince as he approached.

Thomas was dressed casually in a white suit, long-legged, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted. His clear and elegant presence caught the eye, bright as sunlight through clouds.

Following Jack, Renee had seen countless so-called high-born heirs, but none possessed this cool, distinguished, scholarly poise—not a shred of true "nobility" among them, only lazy, cocky swagger.

Simon was one thing, Aiden another; even Jack’s cousin Frederick, his right-hand men Kyle Sheffield and Julian Zeller—none of them had that fresh, moonlit air of refinement.

Even Jack didn’t—it was cold and harsh, like autumn frost, winter snow—a commanding aura that commanded respect without anger.

Simon and his gang were even worse, textbook playboys, unruly, cynical, one more roguish than the next.

Renee had just regained her composure, but Thomas’ arrival stunned her again for a brief moment.

Jack dropped his hand with the cigarette onto her shoulder, possessively turning her face, biting her lips in punishment, marking her pale pink lips with a deep red flush.

Aiden coughed, struggling not to laugh as he turned his back.

Renee blushed with anger, pursing her lips, muttering, "Lunatic!"

Jack dominated, blocking her view of Thomas Blackwood.

Thomas approached, smiling, "Congrats, Mr. Yates. You took the Southea market without even breaking a sweat."

Jack’s lips curled, tone cool: "Still took some effort. Nearly cost me my life."

Thomas clearly didn’t buy it. He’d seen Jack’s skills first-hand; even six, seven years ago, Jack could stir up trouble in Southea. Now he was leagues stronger.

Aiden offered Thomas a Mount Taishon Buddha Light. The three men stood by the lake, smoking—clouds swirling as business talk began.

Old city renovations, aerospace tech, shorting futures—all topics lost on Renee. She had zero interest, heading off toward a nearby pavilion.

Jack didn’t stop her, only called after her back, "Don’t wander off."

Simon and Frederick returned to the courtyard just in time to catch Jack’s comment.

Simon teased with a grin: "Third Brother’s acting like he’s babysitting out here."

Frederick piped up with a smirk, "Compared to Third Brother, Renee really is just a kid."

Jack blew smoke, squinting at Frederick, "Got too much free time?" Switching gears, "So free, why not go run my new factory in Northern Myona tomorrow?"

Frederick panicked, waving his hands, "No way, Third Brother, have mercy. I’m delicate—I can’t hack someplace like that."

Aiden said, "Even the girls went—the Lord can’t be more fragile than some dainty little lady, right?"

Frederick chuckled and cracked a dirty joke: "Well, if I survived under Third Brother this long, I’m hardly fragile."

The other three forced back laughter, no one responding.

Frederick instantly regretted it, just about to apologize when Jack booted him square in the chest, sending him flying into the lake.

Renee heard the splash, spun around to see Frederick thrashing in the water.

In the distance, Jack didn’t bat an eye, one hand in his pocket, strolling toward the main house with utter calm.

Simon and the others followed at leisure, unhurried.

Frederick spotted Renee, waving, "Sister-in-law, save me!"

Renee ignored him, hurrying out of the pavilion and picking up her pace past the lake.

But out of nowhere, a stone flew and struck her knee—her leg buckled, she slipped and plunged into the lake.

The splash made the men in front pause and look back.

Jack slowly turned around, catching sight of Renee struggling in the water.

Simon raised an eyebrow, surprised: "Renee’s so nice, she even jumped in to save Fourth Brother Yates."

Jack’s face went dark as steel, an icy chill radiating, eyes deadly cold.

Aiden said, "Probably just slipped—Renee never struck me as the meddling type."

Jack turned to look at Aiden, narrowing his eyes, "What, you know her that well?"

Aiden: "..."