Chapter 1: The Blue Family Relic
Moonless Night.
The frigid air reeked of blood and iron.
“Agh—!”
A guttural scream tore through the dark alley.
A man moved like a specter in the shadows—all lethal grace and coiled violence. His eyes, dark as spilled ink, burned with primal fury. Bones cracked. Flesh tore. He fought with the chilling precision of a reaper harvesting souls.
Within moments, a bloodied figure lay twitching at his feet, breath rattling in a death throb.
Buzz. Buzz.
His phone hummed. Cigarette dangling from his lips, the man glanced at the faded sky-blue ribbon tied around his wrist—a stark contrast to the c*****e. His voice was ice. “Speak.”
“Those bastards just dropped the bomb—auction’s in one hour! I swear, I’ll skin ’em alive!” Lintu’s voice crackled with rage through the receiver.
“Location.” Smoke curled from the man’s lips, mingling with the frost of his breath.
“Underground Society Club. Wait—Yu, are you bleeding again? Damn it, you—”
The call died with a tap. Crushing his cigarette under a polished boot, the man melted into the night.
Seconds later, black-suited guards flooded the alley.
Bang. Bang. Bang!
Gunfire echoed. The mangled body jerked, then stilled—eyes wide in eternal terror. They’d laughed about the Blue family half an hour ago. Now they were carrion.
…
D Country. Deep Winter.
The Underground Society Club pulsed with opulence and secrets. A private auction was about to begin—announced only sixty minutes prior. Yet the elite had flocked like vultures.
All for one cursed prize: A Relic of the Blue Family.
Nine years ago, the Blues—D Country’s most powerful dynasty—were slaughtered overnight. Flames devoured their estate, leaving no trace, no survivors. To this day, their name was a poison on the tongue. Speak it, and death followed. A curse, they whispered.
Yet tonight, a relic surfaced.
By 11 PM, masked figures in silk and diamonds filled the VIP gallery. Billion-dollar deals abandoned; terror and greed warring in their eyes. They remembered the last time a Blue artifact appeared.
Three years after the m******e, an auction house had flaunted a relic, hungry for scandal and spectacle. The aftermath? The owner, the buyer, their entire bloodlines—gone. Vanished without a trace. No bodies. No clues. Only whispers of vengeful spirits.
The curse became legend.
Until tonight.
The seller? A bankrupt fool, desperate for gold, gambling his life against the curse. The host? A thrill-seeker who laughed at ghosts. Their deal: total anonymity, last-minute notice, elite bidders only.
Five minutes to auction. Servants in black glided through the shadows—men tall and sharp as blades, women curved like hidden daggers. All masked.
Among them, a server in a skeletal mask watched the gallery. Blue Sili’s gaze was a shard of frozen midnight, lingering on the laughing masks above.
Then—a ripple of tension. A gasp cut through the murmur.
“God… is that Ye Chenyu? Why would he come here?”
“Quiet! That man’s a demon wearing skin. Startle him, and he’ll rip out your throat.”
