The mahogany door hit the ground with brutal finality.
**CRASH.**
Dust choked the air as several figures charged through like rabid animals.
Hyenas that had caught the scent of blood.
The leader sported eye-searing pink hair, her bloodshot eyes visible above a surgical mask.
She clutched a water bottle in a white-knuckled grip.
The cap hung loose. Murky liquid sloshed with each ragged breath, droplets spattering the carpet.
The livestream camera captured every detail.
"Vivian Ning, go to hell!"
Pink Hair shrieked, her voice shredding from sheer hysteria: "You framed my idol! You fabricated evidence! Why don't you just die, you poisonous bitch!"
Noise.
Nothing but noise.
The crimson Lucien had just suppressed in his eyes surged back with a vengeance.
What sounded like insults to normal people became hundreds of steel needles simultaneously piercing his eardrums.
His knuckles went bone-white.
The priceless agarwood prayer beads in his palm **snapped** clean through.
Wood fragments rained down.
Lucien rose.
The atmospheric pressure plummeted like someone had opened a freezer door.
He wanted to kill.
Needed to crush that shrieking creature's throat bone by bone.
"Mr. Pei!" Zhou Yan's face went deathly pale. He wanted to intervene, but his legs had turned to jelly.
*We're finished.*
Lucien took one step forward.
One more step and this room would become a crime scene.
A hand suddenly intercepted him.
Carrying the faint scent of rust and that woman's distinctive warmth.
Ning didn't even glance at Pink Hair.
She spun around and clamped both hands over Lucien's ears with the rough efficiency of plugging a leaking faucet.
"Shut up."
She pressed Lucien's head into the hollow of her neck, her voice conducting through bone and flesh: "Don't listen. It's filth."
The world went silent.
Those drill-like lies, completely blocked by those hands cool as jade.
Replaced instead by the steady, powerful pulse at the woman's throat.
*Thump. Thump. Thump.*
Lucien's rigid spine stopped mid-motion.
That agony capable of driving him insane receded like a tide.
He didn't push her away.
Instead, like a dying beast finding its den, his arms instinctively locked around Ning's waist.
Crushing tight.
He buried his face deeper, inhaling her scent with near-greedy desperation.
*Alive. I'm alive.*
Zhou Yan's jaw nearly hit the floor.
That living King of Hell who required triple disinfection if anyone came within three feet—was currently being held and petted like a cat?
"Shameless!"
Pink Hair's remaining rationality shattered at the sight.
She raised the bottle, eyes venomous: "Still seducing random men when you're about to die! Vivian Ning, this is concentrated sulfuric acid! Let's see you act like a slut after your face melts off!"
[Chat: SULFURIC ACID?!]
[Chat: She's insane! Someone call the police!]
Ning didn't even blink.
One hand remained cupped over Lucien's ear, protecting this fragile, expensive "power bank."
She turned, putting her back to Pink Hair.
Using her own body as a shield for Lucien.
Blue text flickered rapidly across her retinal display:
[Scan complete.]
[Liquid composition: H2O (98%) + watercolor paint (2%). Corrosivity: 0.]
[Recommendation: Physical noise reduction.]
The corner of Ning's mouth curved into the faintest mockery.
*Using paintbrush water to fake sulfuric acid?*
*Did the props department's budget get eaten by dogs?*
"Go ahead. Throw it."
She stared at that bottle while her other hand lit up her phone screen, her thumb creating a blur of motion: "The second you do, I'll make sure you rot in prison until the walls crumble."
**BZZZZT—**
The studio's massive projection wall suddenly changed.
No preamble.
A high-definition, magnified WeChat transfer screenshot slammed into every viewer's face.
The circled number looked absurdly pathetic.
**[Sender: Lily Lin (Alt Account 3)]**
**[Recipient: Forever Loving Xavier]**
**[Amount: $750.00]**
**[Note: Bring people to storm in, throw it in her face. If you can disfigure her, I'll add another $750.]**
Silence.
The livestream chat, which had been boiling moments ago, went terrifyingly quiet.
Pink Hair's hand froze mid-air, bottle still raised.
She stared blankly at the wall, at that screenshot that even captured her voice message replies with crystal clarity.
Seven hundred fifty dollars.
Her so-called justice, her supposed willingness to die for her idol—in Lily's eyes, worth seven hundred fifty bucks.
Not even enough for a designer handbag.
"See that?"
Ning released Lucien's ears and pointed at the number on the wall, her tone glacial: "Your loyalty is pathetically cheap."
"No... that's not..."
Pink Hair collapsed.
That alt account was only known to the core fan group. How could Ning possibly have it?
**CLANG.**
The bottle hit the floor. Dirty water splashed across the carpet.
Pink Hair crumpled, sobbing with snot and tears streaming: "I wasn't really going to throw it... it was Lily! She said it was just paint water, just to scare you... I didn't want to go to prison..."
"Too late."
Ning watched coldly as police officers who'd rushed in dragged the girl away.
"Tell your master something."
She faced the camera, her gaze more chilling than the fake acid: "If you want me dead, this pocket change won't cut it. Next time, remember to pay more."
The door closed.
Sirens faded into the distance.
Ning exhaled slowly.
[Life Force Remaining: 05:30:00]
*Jackpot.*
Staying pressed against Lucien—this S-rank blood bag—had kept her heart rate elevated but her battery charging instead of draining.
"Mr. Pei." Ning shifted her shoulders, attempting to extract herself from those vise-like arms. "Show's over. Let go."
No movement.
The hands at her waist tightened further, as if trying to fuse her into his bones.
Lucien remained buried in the hollow of her neck, his breathing scorching, voice hoarse with obvious gravel:
"Don't move."
"Medicine hasn't worn off yet."
Ning: "..."
*Give him an inch and he takes a mile?*
Zhou Yan silently turned away, covering his face.
*Boss, that's not the medicine talking. You just want to keep petting the cat!*
Ning was about to elbow this clingy bastard when her phone vibrated.
Special frequency.
Encrypted message.
Her movements stilled. She extracted her phone with one hand.
No number displayed on the screen.
Black background, white text—every character looked written in blood:
**[Vivian Ning, don't think you've won just because Xavier Gu fell.]**
**[If you don't want your dead mother's ashes flushed down the toilet tonight,]**
**[Come to 'Nightshade' Manor at midnight. Alone.]**
**[Don't be late.]**
**BOOM.**
The casual mockery in Ning's eyes vanished instantly.
Replaced by the murderous aura of someone who'd crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
In the original owner's memories, that woman who'd protected her daughter even in death was the only sacred line.
*They dare touch her ashes?*
"Zhou Yan."
Ning's voice cut through the silence.
No panic from being threatened. Her tone carried a bone-chilling calm.
She shoved Lucien away forcefully.
This time with enough strength to deny him any chance to react.
Lucien's arms emptied. His brows knotted into a death knot, about to explode when he crashed into eyes black as an abyss.
"Prepare the car."
Ning methodically tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear, her lips curving upward bit by bit.
That smile looked even more unhinged than when she'd kicked Xavier.
"I've got overtime tonight."
Her eyes glinted with lethal promise.
"Someone wants to die. I'm going to help them along."