The ferry sliced through the dark waters of the South Sea, its rhythmic hum the only sound breaking the silence of the early morning. Juan Cariño Hernández stood on the deck, eyes fixed on the distant lights of Macau's skyline. Neon signs flickered like fireflies, a strange contrast to the colonial buildings steeped in centuries of history and blood.
The city's beauty was a mask — beneath it lay a brutal underworld that Juan knew all too well.
Beside him, Don Eduardo Montefalco lit a cigar, the ember glowing like a small rebellion against the creeping dawn. Catalina Zhou, the enigmatic former Macau socialite who had slipped into their lives like a ghost, stood watching the harbor with wary eyes.
"We're close now," Catalina said softly. "Macau remembers. And it never forgets."
Juan glanced at her, studying the sharp lines of her face, the way her eyes darted like a hunted animal's. She held secrets darker than the alleys of Binondo.
"Victor Liang," Juan muttered, "The King of Spades. What do you know about him?"
Catalina's lips curled into a bitter smile.
"Victor is the heart of this city's poison. The Pearl Cartel, the Zhao Syndicate — all fall under his command. He's ruthless. Scarred by a hundred battles, but his mind is sharper than any blade."
Don Eduardo puffed smoke into the chill air.
"He's more than a crime lord. He's a kingmaker. Casinos, drugs, weapons… even politics. And he wants the Black Deck."
Juan's hand instinctively went to the inside pocket of his jacket, where a worn leather case hid a set of cards — the infamous Black Deck, a relic of old Triad killings, each card a death sentence.
"We won't give it to him," Juan said, voice low but fierce.
A sudden jolt rocked the ferry as it docked at Macau's port. The trio moved quickly, blending into the crowd of early commuters and smugglers. The city buzzed with a mix of Portuguese colonial charm and Asian grit.
They passed under the archways of Senado Square, where pastel buildings lined the streets, their walls whispering stories of conquest, rebellion, and betrayal.
Juan's thoughts drifted for a moment to Madrid — the city where his journey began, the place where a young Spanish-Filipino man swore vengeance for his brother's death. From there to Manila, where blood and fire forged his resolve. Now here, in Macau, a new chapter awaited.
They arrived at a nondescript alley near the square. Catalina knocked thrice on a rusted door. A slit opened, revealing the cautious eyes of a man known only as "The Monk" — a retired Triad operative who now ran a secret club called Casa de Cuarenta.
Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and whispers. The room was a blend of ancient Chinese decor and modern vice — jade dragons perched beside slot machines, old calligraphy next to neon lights.
Don Eduardo stepped forward.
"We're here to talk about Victor Liang."
The Monk nodded slowly, then motioned them to follow deeper into the club, where danger hid behind every shadow.
Juan's hand stayed close to his sidearm, the weight of his mission heavier than ever.
---
Flashback — Manila, 1995
Juan's memory flickered to the grim morning when his brother Gabriel's body was found floating in Pasig River. The Sangley syndicate, led by Señor Lim Tionco, had left a message in the river — a warning, a promise of continued violence.
His cigar had burned to ash, but his hatred remained aflame.
---
Back to Macau, the present was no less dangerous.
The Monk spoke quietly.
"Victor fears the Black Deck. It is a symbol of power — a list of enemies marked for death. Catalina carries it. That is why they hunt her."
Juan's eyes narrowed.
"We will protect the deck. Whatever it takes."
The three Americans, standing guard near the entrance, exchanged grim looks. Tommy Brown cracked his knuckles.
"This city's about to find out who's boss."
---
The night deepened, and with it, the stakes.
The shadows of Senado Square stretched long, a reminder that history repeats itself — and some debts are never paid.
Juan Cariño Hernández took a deep breath. This was the edge of the fight — where past and present collided, and where the future of the syndicates would be decided.
The game was on.