Every city has its own "slums."

Pinghai City was no exception. Lao Biao pulled up at the edge of Yiyue Road—the entrance to the "slum" lay just ahead.

"Young Master Qin… the area up ahead…"

Lao Biao parked the car and glanced back uncertainly at Qin Cheng in the rear seat.

His young master disliked filthy places. Even for leisure, he stuck to upscale venues. Once, a wrong turn had earned Lao Biao a sharp scolding from Qin Cheng (the original owner).

"Will the car get stuck if we drive in?" Qin Cheng replied calmly.

"Understood."

Lao Biao eased the car slowly into the "slum." Qin Cheng watched the passing buildings through the window, brows furrowed slightly.

He’d known it was a "slum," but hadn’t expected the houses to be… this outdated.

Few were cement-built; most were wooden, groaning and creaking endlessly.

Some structures were bizarre "design masterpieces"—half cement, half wood…

Most windows were still papered over.

Streetlights were sparse. Bulbs on nearby poles were blown out or missing entirely.

The air carried a foul odor. Even Qin Cheng, forewarned, felt his brow twitch slightly.

Yet no disgust stirred in him. In his past life, he’d grown up in a place just like this.

"What kind of car is that…?"

"Maserati? Mercedes? Rich folks love these, right?"

"Dunno, but it looks insane…"

"They feel… different from the usual crowd."

As the car rolled deeper, a few residents peeked from windows, whispering. Envy, longing, jealousy tangled in their murmurs.

When Lao Biao parked, opened the door, and Qin Cheng stepped out, those emotions sharpened—admiration flared, jealousy deepened.

"No time to waste. Find her."

Qin Cheng’s tone was flat. He smoothed his collar. His all-black outfit stood out starkly here, like the sole bright star in a pitch-black sky.

Qin Cheng was naturally striking. Under the original owner, he’d seemed a "pretty boy"—decent build, 1.79 meters tall (nearly 1.8), yet radiating utter fragility. A paper tiger.

Now? An aura of aloof dominance clung to him. A casual glance held restrained allure.

No change in face—only subtle shifts in posture, tone, expression—yet pressure and magnetism radiated unmistakably.

Such was aura. A mysterious thing.

The moment he stepped out, several watching girls froze, starry-eyed, gazes locked.

*"Don’t let me catch you… or I’ll tie you up and make you laugh that laugh again…"*

Beneath that god-like calm churned this unrestrained inner monologue.

He still hadn’t forgiven Fu Hou’s laughter.

That wild, untamed *"wryyyyyyyy."*

"Young Master Qin, found it. This way."

"Go."

A faint, slanted smirk curved Qin Cheng’s lips—a sly, scheming smile blooming slowly.

When the Demon Sovereign wore *that* smile? It was already too late.

Poor the girls who, under stunned family stares, suddenly shrieked:

"awsl!!!"

Yet not all were smitten. One little loli in a black-and-white school uniform stole a glance at Qin Cheng and Lao Biao’s path, then hurriedly ducked from the window and vanished inside.

Qin Cheng followed Lao Biao through the narrow lanes. Retro streets, ceramic-tiled walls, cement dust coating the ground.

Abandoned buildings bore bold red "Demolish" characters.

Soon, they stopped before a modest house.

Lao Biao tapped gently on the door. A soft, melodic voice answered quickly:

"Hold on, coming!"

Creak—

"A Hou, you…? Uh… May I ask who you are?"

The wooden door opened. A beautiful woman with long legs stepped out, blinking in confusion at Qin Cheng and Lao Biao.

"Hello. This is Young Master Qin of Azure Cloud Group…"