The Hidden Dragon Saves Himself: I Retire to a Humble Life in the City

I, Shen Yan, personally disbanded the force that could once shake half the world three years ago.

It wasn't because we'd lost. I'd killed too much, and my heart was possessed by demons. I needed to cleanse myself completely.

I withdrew to an old street and opened a teahouse, wiping cups, boiling water, and watching the neighbors shop and cook.

I thought a quiet life would be enough to redeem myself.

Then my fiancée came to break off our engagement, bringing people with her. She slammed a briefcase onto the tea table.

“Two hundred thousand. Take it and disappear. You're just some lousy teahouse owner. What makes you think you're worthy of marrying me?”

She had no idea that the two hundred thousand she brought wasn't even a fraction of the smallest check I'd signed back in the day.

Fine, let her break off the engagement.

I lowered my head and rubbed the callus between my right thumb and forefinger. I didn't stop her.

Later, the young master of the Zhao family knelt in the street. The Ye family's covert operatives locked down Qingning overnight, and my old subordinates lit up their phones thousands of miles away.

I'd said I wouldn't come out of seclusion, take power, or get involved of my own accord.

But they insisted on forcing me to clear my name.

Fine.

I haven't lifted a finger in three years, and you really think I'm finished.

I won't come out of seclusion. But what you owe me, I'll make you bring back yourself.

The hidden dragon lies deep, waiting not for the wind to rise, but only to clear his name.