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Wang Yanyu had always lived an easy life. She wasn't a genius, but she had something that mattered—beauty. A face that made men weak and a body that kept them crawling back. In school, her Wind element had been her saving grace. Even if her magic was weak, at least she wasn't an outcast, one of those pitiful people born without an element. Society had no place for the powerless.
Her twenties were a whirlwind of fun—parties, luxury, and a carousel of boyfriends who spoiled her rotten. She never thought about the future, only the next high, the next thrill. Then, at one exclusive party, she met Boss Zhou.
He wasn't like the other rich men who ogled her. There was something… wrong about him. Too calm, too amused, like he already owned everything in the room—including her. She had flirted and played her usual games, but when he captured and handed her "friends" to a dark-robed stranger, calling it a "contribution" for new Dark Beasts, the air turned suffocating.
Panic clawed at her throat when she realized she might be next. Desperation replaced pride. She threw herself at Zhou, clinging to him, laughing at his jokes, offering whispered promises. "You wouldn't waste something as fun as me, right? I can make you feel good, Boss Zhou… just don't send me to them."
He had smirked, fingers tracing her jaw, then gripping it tight enough to hurt. "Oh, don't worry. You'd make a fun toy to be used by me."
But Boss Zhou wasn't the type to leave loose ends. After handing over her friends, he lit a cigar, took a slow drag, then flicked it onto the alcohol-soaked floor. Flames erupted instantly, devouring the lavish party hall. Screams filled the air as panicked guests tried to escape, but the exits were already blocked. Smoke choked the weak, and the fire consumed everything—bodies, evidence, the truth. By the time authorities arrived, nothing remained but charred ruins.
Of course, not everyone had been handed over to the dark-robed man. That would be too obvious. He needed bodies—burnt beyond recognition—to sell the illusion of a tragic accident. With a flick of his wrist, a Star Orbit formed, its fiery veins pulsing like molten lava. A split-second later, Fiery Fist – Exploding Heavens detonated through the ceiling, raining down a blazing inferno. Flesh melted before the screams could even fully form. The firestorm erased everything… except for one carefully planted clue. A forged piece of evidence, subtly placed where investigators would inevitably find it. When the dust settled, the blame wouldn't fall on him—it would land squarely on the shoulders of a certain nuisance, a man who had been disrupting his business for too long. The authorities would chase after him like hungry dogs, none the wiser to the real mastermind pulling the strings.
As for Wang Yanyu what followed was agony. Chains cut into her wrists, holding her in place as the whip cracked against her back. Ice water poured over her, chilling her bones, washing away the blood but never the pain. Boss Zhou watched it all, entertained.
That was when she understood. Beauty, charm, begging—it all meant nothing. In the face of true power, she was nothing more than a plaything.
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Lin Feng stood in the dimly lit room, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and something else—fear. Boss Zhou sat comfortably in a chair, lighting a cigar, while Luo stood to the side, his expression unreadable. Against the cold steel table, all kinds of tools lay neatly arranged—pliers, scalpels, iron rods, and a blowtorch, each one gleaming under the weak overhead light. The centerpiece of tonight's entertainment, however, was Wang Yanyu, bound to a chair, her body trembling as she struggled to breathe through her broken ribs.
Lin Feng's fingers traced the edge of a knife, its blade catching the dim light. It felt familiar. Too familiar. This was no different from his past life. The only difference? He wasn't getting paid this time.
'I was a hitman in my past life.' Lin Feng thought to himself reminiscing about his past
Back then, he hadn't become a hitman out of desperation, greed, or revenge. No, his reason was far simpler—boredom. The world had been too dull, too predictable. School, work, relationships… all of it felt like a monotonous loop, a scripted life where nothing truly excited him. Until he made his first kill.
"Nothing gave me a rush. But killing? Watching the light leave someone's eyes? That… that was exhilarating."
His lips curled slightly, not in a smile, but something far more unsettling. "And when pain is involved? It becomes even better."
That rush. That feeling. It was unlike anything else. The way fear twisted a person's face, the way their breath hitched, the way their bodies trembled when they realized death was inevitable. That raw, primal emotion—they called it suffering, but to him, it was art.
He remembered a job where he needed intel on a high-profile target's movements. The man refused to talk, no matter how much pain was inflicted. His resolve was impressive… at first. Lin Feng had taken his time, methodically carving into the man's flesh, severing tendons one by one, watching as the arrogance in his eyes crumbled into sheer desperation. The real fun started when he brought in the man's business partner, made him watch, made him feel the consequences of silence. By the end, the information spilled out along with their sanity, and Lin Feng? He had walked away with more than just intel—he had fed that insatiable hunger inside him.
Now, standing in this room, with Boss Zhou watching and Luo observing quietly, he felt that same hunger creeping up again. He wasn't here just for some business arrangement. No, this was something else. A chance to relive the thrill.
Wang Yanyu whimpered, her eyes darting around the room, searching for mercy. Lin Feng smiled. Wrong place to look.
Wang Yanyu whimpered, shrinking back as best as she could in her restraints. Lin Feng's gaze flickered over to Boss Zhou. "Shall we begin?"