Ouyang’s energy and stamina had been burned twice over by the training just now, wrung completely dry.

Her scraped heel had a chance to heal fast thanks to the Blood Clan genes in her, but her strength hadn’t come back. Her legs felt weak, useless. All she wanted was to lie on the wooden bench and rest.

She had no strength to bicker with the young bartender. Sensing something wrong, Ouyang tried to get up and slip away from the bench. She was a moment too late.

Her hands were suddenly seized in an iron grip. She tried to wrench free, but his wrist strength was immense—several times stronger than Brother Long’s.

She fought with everything she had and still couldn’t break loose. Swallowing the pain, she realized their power wasn’t on the same level. The young bartender crushed her strength and erased her chance to resist.

The harder Ouyang struggled, the stranger his eyes became.

She didn’t know if he’d been provoked by someone on the street or showed up drunk. Maybe he’d secretly tailed her here like before.

The half-blood kid who usually put on a fake-serious face and lectured Blood Clan lore was acting like someone else entirely.

Maybe something Ouyang didn’t understand was controlling him. He looked like a starving jackal—eyes feverish and greedy—as if he’d rip off the clothes in his way and swallow Ouyang whole. It was terrifying.

Nervously, she saw him dip his head, press his high-bridged nose to her chest, and sniff. Like he’d smelled something delicious. He licked the corner of his mouth, smiled in satisfaction, then kept sliding down. He stopped with his face at the V of her pants and went still.

He opened his mouth and showed four sharp, needle-like teeth. The instant before he bit into her, Ouyang, with her dignity on the line, snapped taut and brought up her right leg. Her knee drove hard, merciless, into his critical spot.

Know your enemy, win every battle.

A miserable howl tore out of him. The moment his grip slackened, Ouyang ripped free, rolled, and bolted.

She didn’t want to drag Brother Long and Xiaomo into this. She’d handle this eyesore herself.

It was rush hour now. The evening streets were crowded and loud, perfect for vanishing. Hood pulled low, she wove through every corner of Black Tortoise Road, trying to shake the young bartender.

She’d already spent all her strength at noon, and now she was playing life-or-death hide-and-seek with him.

Catch me and he’d… heh-heh… Ouyang couldn’t, didn’t dare, picture what would happen if he caught her.

It was like he’d put a tracker on her. Busy chaos or silent backstreet, he found her every time.

Thinking through his motive, Ouyang landed on only one possibility.

Like he’d said, her scent had drawn his attention.

She guessed she was carrying some unique scent that confused him and let him track her. Like a drone homing in on a queen’s pheromones. Terrifying.

What scent could drive him this crazy? Ouyang rolled up her sleeves and sniffed both hands carefully. She couldn’t find the source.

It was getting dangerous. She’d run every street and alley. Nowhere left to go.

She stood on a road lined with a new office tower under construction. Anxious, she looked up to the left and saw a group of middle-aged workers laughing as they left the unfinished building.

Shift change. Ouyang darted into the empty site, ran up the stairs, and hid in a bare concrete room on one floor. From below, she could clearly hear footsteps. One flight, then another. Closer and closer.

Among heaps of tiles and wood blocks, she spotted a heavy, pitch-black crowbar. With no weapon on her, it felt like treasure. Delighted, she grabbed it and continued up the stairwell until she found a dark, open corner. There, she decided to fight to the death.

There was no need to pity a demon who wanted to hurt her.

From the heart, Ouyang was grateful to this young bartender. He’d taught her a lot about Blood Clan history, pushing her one step farther from returning to the Zero District.

He’d even run into the alley with a frying pan to deal with Brother Long’s men tailing her. All of it, just to do what he could for the Bloodkin Prince.

Everything he had done was for his faith.

But here and now, there was no pity for someone whose head was full of lust, drooling over her body.

She stood side-on in the shadows, fingers tight around the crowbar. Batter’s stance. Ready to swing and take his head off.

In her memory, she could never forget that night. Driving the refrigerated truck toward the Zero District with Third, Fourth, and Little Qiu.

If they’d dumped the nine Mosterians out of the trailer earlier, Third wouldn’t have died in the explosion. She wouldn’t be like this.

The young bartender appeared with a sly, expectant smile. He must have decided the little rabbit curled in the corner had given up and had nowhere left to run. He came toward his target, step by step.

The crowbar in Ouyang’s hands merged with the dark. Her sunglasses, masking scarlet eyes, flashed a cold, dark red gleam. Ouyang locked in, calm, watching him close in.

The Bloodkin Prince had granted her a temporary freedom that was only a fleeting bloom.

One bad mood, and he might take her back.

The young bartender stayed in constant contact with the Blood Clan. He could receive their tokens. He must have been reporting her life from the shadows.

Even the Bloodkin Prince hadn’t expected this turn: his own subordinate growing selfish, wanting the little rabbit for himself.

From the moment Brother Long mentioned the plan, Ouyang had decided. She’d cut down, with her own hands, the life the Bloodkin Prince had arranged for her.

She would never become his tool. She tightened her grip on the crowbar and let out a low, angry growl.

“Go to hell.”

She sighted in and swung. The crowbar carved a cold arc through the air. In the hush, there came the dull, heavy thud of something hitting the floor.

She watched, expression flat, as the young bartender’s headless body toppled with a thud. After confirming he wasn’t getting back up, Ouyang finally let out a breath.

Hide-and-seek was over. Her taut nerves loosened a little. She turned to go downstairs and head home—then stopped where she stood.

It wasn’t that she refused to leave. It was the sudden resonance between body and soul that made her stop without thinking.