Three nights later, the entire Ouyang Clan estate buzzed with festive cheer.

Countless guests with ties to the Ouyang Clan flooded into Shanyuan City. Why? Everyone knew today was Ouyang Long’s birthday. Invitations or not, they’d come to join the spectacle—whether truly to celebrate or not…

"Master Ouyang Long, happy birthday. These are gifts from the Heavenly Ruler."

"How terribly formal! I’m utterly honored!"

A man in ancient court robes grinned at Ouyang Long. Behind him stood several cargo wagons piled high. Whatever they carried, the Li Family crest—the kingdom’s highest nobility—stamped on them turned even loaves of bread into treasures worth a fortune.

The moment other guests spotted the Li crest, murmurs rippled through the crowd. A barely perceptible smirk curled Ouyang Long’s lips.

"My duty’s done. I’ll take my leave now."

"Won’t the envoy stay for a drink?"

"Heh, I thank Clan Head Ouyang for his kindness, but I must report back. Forgive my absence."

The man declined with a smile. Ouyang Long didn’t mind—he’d never expected acceptance. Yet etiquette demanded the offer.

"Pity. Then…" Ouyang Long extended his hand. Beside him, Ouyang Lijia instantly placed a card in his palm. "A small token of gratitude. You’ve traveled far. Please, envoy and your men—accept this without refusal."

"Hmm. Clan Head, we servants aren’t meant to receive gifts. Discovery would bring trouble."

"Heh. Untraceable assets. No records. Take it safely."

"Heh. I do admire clever men like you, Clan Head."

*Heh heh heh.*

Shared laughter hung in the air. The envoy pocketed the card, bowed, and signaled his men to leave.

"Master… was this worth it?"

"Heh, Lijia. Plans often unravel through unexpected hands. You know the saying: *kings are easier to please than petty demons*."

"Understood."

Ouyang Lijia knew his meaning. Yet gifting one billion universal credits as a "travel fee" to a mere envoy felt excessive.

"Come. The night is long."

"Yes, Master."

Slightly forced smiles surfaced as they turned toward the banquet hall.

---

Near the Ouyang estate, inside a quiet villa…

"Clear on the objective? I won’t repeat myself."

Elvire swirled wine in a glass, her enigmatic smile fixed on the Ouyang Clan’s glittering lights.

"*Amitabha*. This humble monk fully grasps the patron’s request. So—the target is everyone inside?"

"Yes. Methods don’t matter. Not one escapes."

"Understood."

Behind Elvire stood a bald monk in saffron robes. Moonlight draped him in solemn grace—ignoring the skull tattoo carved into his scalp.

"Go."

"Wait for good news. I’ll return shortly."

The monk bowed deeply, retreating into shadow. Nineteen figures rose silently behind him, vanishing into darkness.

The villa fell deathly still. Elvire didn’t stir, eyes locked on the Ouyang estate.

"Miss… are they reliable?"

Garna materialized behind her.

"You don’t understand, Garna. They are *precisely* right."

"To annihilate the Ouyang Clan… shouldn’t we hire higher-ranked mercenaries? Not *Martial Monks*?"

"Garna, you wouldn’t comprehend. These monks are the threads guiding this karmic weave. No one else can sever this predestined fate."

"*Predestined*?"

Garna frowned at her mistress’s cryptic words.

"Big sister, it’s not our place to question the Young Mistress."

Ferna appeared beside Garna, hands clasped behind her head, gaze alight with the same distant fascination as Elvire’s.

"Ferna. Back already."

"Yep, Young Mistress! The target you assigned… fascinating. Though still weak."

"*Him*? Weak now. But in a few years, you won’t stand a chance."

"Eh? Really? That strong? Should I eliminate him now—just to be safe?"

*Heh.*

Elvire set down her glass, turning slowly. An icy smile fixed on her subordinate.

"I said: harm a single hair on his head, and I’ll make you beg for death. Forgotten already?"

"I know, I know! Just joking!"

Ferna’s tongue darted out as the black rose on Elvire’s left hand pulsed with ominous violet light.

"But others? No restrictions. I know you’ve itched for action. In two hours—go. Kill anyone but the target."

"Even those useless monks from earlier?"

"Of course. I never expected them to succeed."

"Mmm~ He’ll enjoy hell. Paid handsomely *and* granted damnation. That stinking monk gets his wish."

*Thwack!*

Garna’s chop landed squarely on Ferna’s head.

"Big sister! Why?!"

"The Young Mistress commands. No backtalk."

"Yeeees~"

In Ferna’s hierarchy, her sister ranked second only to their mistress. Disobedience wasn’t an option.

"Then, Young Mistress—I’ll clear the perimeter first."

"Go. Garna, assist your sister."

"At once."

The maids grabbed longswords, pistols, and daggers, vanishing into the night. They left without worry—Elvire’s magic could slaughter Shanyuan City’s entire population in seconds.

Unmoved by their departure, Elvire stared raptly at a specific spot in the Ouyang estate.

"Our reunion with predestined fate… what will you do, my love Ouyang Ge? I’m *so* eager…"

Scorching heat surged from her lower abdomen. She clenched her teeth, enduring.

"We’ll meet again. At the most beautiful moment. Your wife—I—will stand before you. Until then… I’ll wait. Always…"

The whisper hung between angel and demon, thick with longing.