DC: Rise of the Kryptonian Tyrant

"I don't like hugs."

Bardi's voice was calm, his expression unreadable. He felt no need to embrace another man, much less someone like Morgan Edge—a smiling tiger, the kind who would shake your hand in public while plotting your downfall in private.

With the power Bardi now held, he had no interest in empty social formalities. Simply put, Morgan wasn't worth his time. The man might hold some influence in the upper echelons of the metropolis, but to Bardi, eliminating him would be as effortless as flicking a finger.

In this world, money without real power was meaningless.

In the past, wealth, status, and connections might have been the defining factors of influence. But now? Ever since Bardi arrived, since the day he punched a hole through the intergang, the very definition of power had changed.

That was why he felt nothing toward Morgan Edge. He didn't particularly dislike him, but he certainly had no reason to care. Regardless, Morgan was just another obstacle that would inevitably be swept aside. There was no need to waste time building relationships that would soon be irrelevant.

Business matters like this? Bardi always left them to Lex. If things ever escalated beyond corporate negotiations, then Bardi would simply have someone take the fall or, if necessary, send a well-placed bomb to erase an entire family from existence.

Take his own secretary, for example, an assassin sent to kill him, hired by these very people. That was already beyond the realm of business. So Bardi had come here tonight with a simple goal: to dismantle the family from within.

"Oh! Is it because I'm not a beautiful, sexy woman?"

Bardi had barely rejected his embrace before Morgan let out a hearty laugh, showing off his white teeth.

He spread his hands in a lighthearted gesture, making a joke out of the moment. He didn't seem the least bit embarrassed, his demeanor remaining casual and composed.

But behind him, the expressions of the gathered family members and second-generation elites darkened.

"How rude."

"As expected from someone who crawled out of a suicide slum, no manners whatsoever."

"At least Mr. Edge didn't have to actually touch him. Who knows what kind of stench he carries?"

"This is exactly why there's a divide between the upper class and the bottom feeders. People like him don't understand etiquette or refinement. Utterly uncivilized."

Their whispered remarks carried thinly veiled contempt.

Even the women who had initially been intrigued by Bardi, the ones whose eyes had gleamed with curiosity now glanced at him with faint disappointment, shaking their heads.

"Too arrogant. Does he think he's still some thug in a slum?"

"Acting aloof? Trying to be mysterious? Please. He's just a good-looking face, nothing more."

"What a shame. Mr. Edge must be so disappointed in him. No manners at all, he's embarrassing himself."

"Mr. Edge might even reconsider bringing in someone so rough. Letting someone like him into the family would lower our standards."

The murmurs spread quickly, most of them laced with mockery or disdain.

Even the bold woman in the purple evening dress, who had previously shown interest in Bardi, now frowned slightly. She remained silent, observing him carefully, unsure of what he was trying to accomplish. Was he really this foolish? Or was this some kind of act?

Some in the crowd sighed, shaking their heads.

They believed he was about to throw away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

A chance to join the family, something that would change his destiny forever.

Anyone else in his position would have been overwhelmed with gratitude, eager to cooperate, ready to kneel if necessary.

How could he be so reckless? How could he refuse Morgan Edge's goodwill?

They might have laughed at Bardi's ignorance, but those who truly understood Morgan Edge knew better.

Morgan Edge had spent his life overcoming racial discrimination. He had fought tooth and nail to rise to the top. Beneath his affable, easygoing exterior was a cold, calculating heart.

If there was one thing he despised, it was being slighted because of his race. Even the smallest comment, the most subtle insult, could result in silent, merciless revenge.

The Noah family had learned that the hard way.

Their company had been flourishing until someone within their ranks made an offhand remark about Morgan's skin color. Soon after, his influence seeped through the family like poison. Their technology park and entire corporate empire were annexed piece by piece, swallowed whole. The once-prominent Noah family collapsed overnight. The patriarch, unable to bear the shame, threw himself from his office building.

That was Morgan Edge's way.

He never made a scene. He never struck directly. But he never forgave.

And now, Bardi had refused his embrace in front of everyone.

To some, it might have seemed like nothing. But to Morgan, it was a subtle but clear rejection—a sign of disdain.

Even if Bardi hadn't intended it that way, it didn't matter.

Morgan would remember this.

"Such a waste. Young people don't recognize opportunities when they see them."

"Typical arrogance. Just because he crawled out of a slum, he thinks he can make his mark by playing the lone wolf?"

Among the older generation, some shook their heads in disappointment.

Though they weren't as powerful as Morgan Edge, they still held influence. And they could already see Bardi throwing away his chance to rise above his origins.

A chance to stand among the elite—squandered.

Watching this unfold, many of the second-generation heirs felt a surge of frustration.

To them, the idea of a mere slum-born upstart being invited into the family was already infuriating.

Now?

Now, that same man had the audacity to refuse?

Blood simmered in their veins, their disgust turning to resentment.

Bardi's hearing was sharp. Even though the whispers in the room were hushed, he caught every single word.

And he found it laughable.

They assumed he wanted to join them.

They assumed he cared about their validation.

They assumed that by rejecting Morgan Edge, he was a fool who didn't know his own limits.

Who here was truly ignorant?

"Come, have a drink. This banquet is in your honor. Let me introduce you to some lovely women, perhaps they can help you enjoy the evening."

Morgan Edge, unfazed, spoke with warm enthusiasm. Though his embrace had been rejected, his demeanor remained inviting, his dark face relaxed in a practiced smile.

He wasn't a tall man, half a head shorter than Bardi.

Which meant that as Bardi stood before him, he had to look up to meet his gaze.

That alone made his jaw tighten ever so slightly. He concealed it well, but for a brief moment, his eyes turned cold.

"No need," Bardi replied evenly. "If I want company tonight, I'll find women who are willing on my own."

With that, he plucked a glass of champagne from a nearby server's tray and raised it casually, as if making a toast.

The way he moved, the effortless confidence, the sheer disregard was almost regal.

It was as if he were the master of the room, not Morgan Edge.

The expression on Morgan's face didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes.

His fingers twitched slightly, adjusting his cufflinks.

The air between them shifted.

Morgan had played this game many times before. But now, in the presence of this man, for the first time in years, he felt the faint stirrings of irritation.

The surrounding guests exchanged looks, sensing the tension.

Some sneered. Others smirked.

But all of them had their eyes fixed on Bardi.

Under the watchful eyes of the entire banquet hall, Bardi strolled up to a strikingly beautiful woman.

She was petite yet voluptuous, her curves accentuated by a black, intricately designed dress with sheer cutouts that revealed glimpses of her smooth, snow-white skin. There was a mature allure to her, a beauty that exuded sophistication and sensuality, enough to intoxicate any onlooker.

Clink.

The crisp sound of glasses touching rang through the air as Bardi casually raised his champagne flute, tapping it against hers.

His lips curled into a relaxed smile.

"You have an incredible presence," he said smoothly. "I'd like to spend the night with you. What do you say?"

The woman froze.

Her eyes widened in shock, her lips parting slightly as she stared at him in disbelief.

It wasn't just the audacity of his words, it was who she was.

Her husband was right there.

And yet, this man, this dangerously attractive stranger had just openly propositioned her without the slightest hesitation.

Was he insane?

The soft murmur of conversation that had filled the banquet hall abruptly ceased.

The air grew heavy with tension.

Every guest turned to stare, their expressions shifting from curiosity to something darker. Some were stunned, others amused, but many of the powerful family members wore looks of growing displeasure.

The once-idle whispers were gone. In their place was sheer, silent anticipation.

From the corner of the room, the live band, sensing the shift in atmosphere, subtly altered the music. The melody began to swell, its notes taking on a dramatic intensity.

And then—

"Barmulodi!"

Morgan Edge's voice boomed across the banquet hall, his deep growl cutting through the heavy silence like a blade.