Chapter One: The Carefree General Store

Xijing City, summer night.

In a secluded alley stood a little shop named “Forget Your Sorrows General Store.” Inside, Lu Ming was sprawled across a sofa, fast asleep.

At that moment, a striking woman stood at the entrance. Dressed in an expensive sapphire blue business suit, her beautiful face was accentuated by meticulous makeup—clear evidence of her privileged upbringing.

Her face was clouded with worry and indecision. Looking at the sleeping Lu Ming inside, her mind replayed something she’d once overheard at a business banquet—a whispered line from the lips of a commercial titan:

“No matter your troubles, you can seek the owner of Forget Your Sorrows. As long as you’re willing to pay the price.”

At first, Huo Yutong had only laughed. She didn’t believe anyone could wield such power—unless he was a god.

But now, faced with suggestive threats, ugly sneers, and the cold, mocking smiles of her rivals, she was nearly in despair.

This place was her last hope, her final lifeline. She had nothing left but to gamble.

At last, gritting her teeth, Huo Yutong stepped inside.

“Excuse me, is the owner here?”

Her clear voice stirred Lu Ming from his sleep. He opened his eyes slowly, regarded the beauty before him, stretched, and replied, “That’s me. What brings you here?”

Huo Yutong let out a long breath and said, “Hello, I’m Huo Yutong. I heard you can resolve any kind of trouble?”

Lu Ming took a pack of Lotus cigarettes from the table, lit one, inhaled deeply, and replied, “That’s right.”

Hearing his calm and confident tone, Huo Yutong felt a faint sense of relief. This matter concerned the fate of her family and company—she had nowhere left to turn.

“It’s like this,” she began, steadying her thoughts. “My company is facing difficulties. At tomorrow’s cocktail party, I must secure a deal worth a billion. Can you make this happen?”

The family business was teetering on the brink. If she failed to close this deal, generations of painstaking effort would crumble in an instant. The family would fracture and fall apart. Huo Yutong would never allow such a fate.

Yet, recalling the veiled threats, the ugly faces, and the sneers of her competitors, she was gripped by despair. This was her last hope. She had to take the risk.

“No problem. But you know my rules, don’t you?” Lu Ming said evenly.

Huo Yutong hesitated, but she’d come all this way—she was prepared. Still, he hadn’t even asked whom the deal was with or what it entailed, yet took it all on so casually. Wasn’t he overconfident?

But her company’s situation left her no room to hesitate.

She slowly removed a jade pendant from her neck, handing it over with visible pain on her face. This pendant was a Huo family heirloom, an ancient artifact. She would never part with it—unless she was truly desperate.

Lu Ming took it without a glance, tossed it onto the table, and said, “It’ll do. I’ll go with you tomorrow—come pick me up.”

Watching her treasured heirloom cast aside so carelessly, Huo Yutong’s heart ached. But hearing Lu Ming agree, she exhaled in relief.

“Alright, I’ll come for you at eleven tomorrow. Are you sure you don’t need to know more about the situation?”

“Such a small matter—tell me on the way,” Lu Ming replied with a yawn.

Huo Yutong frowned, but his confidence left her with no other choice. “Very well, Mr. Lu, I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

Lu Ming nodded, yawning, and Huo Yutong took her leave.

Once she was gone, Lu Ming locked the shop door, picked up the pendant, and went upstairs.

The second floor was the same size as the shop below, furnished simply. Stripping off his clothes, Lu Ming showered, then emerged wearing only boxers, his muscular body and shocking scars exposed.

To others, those scars were terrifying. To Lu Ming, they were nothing; he simply took the jade pendant and examined it at leisure.

Suddenly, the air in the room twisted. A woman in a fitted uniform appeared behind Lu Ming as if conjured from thin air.

He put the pendant away and turned to look at her, unphased by her strange appearance.

The woman’s skin was pale and flawless, her beauty undeniable, though her expression was icy and proud.

In a measured voice, she spoke, “So—you’re the King of Mercenaries, the Bloodstained Killer, Lu Ming?”

“I no longer use those titles. What brings you here?” Lu Ming asked.

Yeqi Miyu replied coldly, “You killed my brother, Yeqi Gaogang, didn’t you?”

Lu Ming raised an eyebrow lazily. “I’ve killed so many, I can’t recall them all. But if you say I did, so be it. It matters little to me.”

“Very well,” Yeqi Miyu said, her voice as frosty as a glacier. “You will die in endless agony. I hope, when the time comes, you’ll remain this defiant.”

With that, she flipped her hand, producing a short dagger from who knows where. Gripping it with both hands, she called out, “Soul Sever!”

As soon as the words left her lips, a black aura enveloped the dagger. In a flash, she vanished.

Lu Ming sneered, “Tricks fit for children.”

He stretched out a large hand, clenched the air—and golden scales erupted across his arm, shining like a dragon’s hide.

In that instant, a strange force swept through the room. Yeqi Miyu, rendered visible, was caught in Lu Ming’s grip, his scaled right hand wrapped around her neck.

Her pale, delicate throat looked as fragile as straw beneath that monstrous hand, as if it might snap with the slightest pressure.

The arrogance drained from Yeqi Miyu’s face, replaced by sheer terror.

She was considered the number one martial prodigy of Fusang’s younger generation, a genius of ninjutsu. To her, the so-called King of Mercenaries, the Bloodstained Killer, was nothing but a joke.

But she’d never imagined such overwhelming strength—the scales on his arm, the oppressive aura he exuded, the hand on her throat heavy as a mountain.

She felt as though she’d encountered a primordial beast. With the slightest squeeze, she would be annihilated.

Yeqi Miyu knew she was outmatched in strength. But as a ninjutsu prodigy, she had more tricks up her sleeve.

Her pupils began to spin counterclockwise, becoming an abyss that drew Lu Ming’s gaze. At the same time, a strange fragrance wafted from her body, and her expression became irresistibly seductive, her every gesture calculated to entice and disturb.

“Illusion—Tsukuyomi!”

This was her trump card: the Illusion of Tsukuyomi. Many stronger than her had fallen victim to it, especially when combined with her beauty. Once caught in the illusion, her enemies would be trapped in a false world, their strength drained until they perished, all without her lifting a finger.

Lu Ming’s eyes reddened as he stared at her face.

Suddenly, he threw Yeqi Miyu onto the bed. Midair, her clothes exploded apart with a bang, scattering in all directions.

The force behind his throw pinned her motionless on the bed, her body laid bare before his eyes.

“No—please!” Yeqi Miyu’s illusion seemed only to have awakened Lu Ming’s desire, leaving him utterly unbound while she, panic-stricken and helpless, could only plead for mercy amidst her desperate cries.