Damn It

Before she could even lay a finger on Lin Xuan, Su Hua grabbed her wrist with a chilling expression.

"Who do you think you are, daring to touch my little bed slave?" Su Hua's crimson lips curled into a smirk, her eyes gleaming with murderous intent.

Little bed slave…

The moment Lin Xuan heard that term, he knew Su Hua was having another episode.

When she was lucid, unless it was for playful intimacy, she never called him that. Only during her episodes did she refer to him as her "little bed slave."

"W-what do you want?" The woman trembled, fear creeping into her voice.

"Since you dared to touch my little bed slave, I’ll make sure you never use that hand again."

Under the woman’s horrified gaze, Su Hua twisted her wrist with brutal force.

"AAAAAH—!" A blood-curdling scream tore from the woman’s throat.

Then, without hesitation, Su Hua kicked her squarely in the stomach, sending her flying like a broken kite.

Her back slammed into the sharp corner of a table, the excruciating pain radiating through her spine. She crumpled to the ground, writhing in agony.

"It hurts…" she whimpered, clutching her injured body.

"Boss, shouldn’t we stop her?" A subordinate frowned, turning to Zhao Long.

Zhao Long twirled his prayer beads, smirking. "No need. It seems Ling has completely turned against Lin Xuan. Let’s just enjoy the show."

Lin Xuan was about to face Su Hua’s wrath—brutally.

The subordinate’s frown deepened. Something felt off about the situation.

"One more thing," Zhao Long added suddenly.

"What is it?" the subordinate asked.

Zhao Long’s voice turned icy. "Send men to eliminate Derkson and his assistant."

Now that Lin Xuan’s memories had returned, those two were no longer necessary.

And he certainly wasn’t about to let them walk away with the organization’s money.

"Understood." The subordinate immediately relayed the order.

Four assassins from the organization were dispatched to Derkson’s resting quarters.

He and his female assistant were leisurely sipping tea, oblivious to the danger.

"Professor," the assistant mused, "with three million dollars as our reward, we’ll be set for life."

"Indeed," Derkson chuckled. "As they say in Xia Country, ‘Fortune favors the bold.’ Even though this is a den of assassins, the payout makes it worth the risk."

"But, Professor…" The assistant hesitated, her brow furrowing. "Do you think they’ll really let us leave?"

"Relax," Derkson assured her. "These people value their reputation. If they promised us the money, they won’t go back on their word."

Reassured, the assistant nodded—just as the door burst open.

Four assassins strode in.

"Is there… something you need?" Derkson asked, unease prickling his skin.

One of the men tossed a heavy bag at his feet.

"Your payment, as promised."

Derkson exhaled in relief and crouched to open it. Stacks of cash gleamed before him.

His eyes lit up with greed.

Money.

So much money!

Heart pounding, he looked up. "Now that the job’s done, can we go?"

This place was suffocating—he wanted out.

"Go?"

The assassin smirked and signaled.

In an instant, the others seized Derkson and his assistant, binding them tightly.

"What are you doing?!" Derkson thrashed. "Your boss promised to let us leave! Are you breaking your word?"

"Professor Derkson," the assassin sneered, "you must’ve misheard. Our boss only agreed to pay you—not to let you walk away."

"He’s fulfilled his promise. The rest… is up to us."

Derkson’s face paled.

They were right. The deal had never included their freedom. He’d assumed the payment guaranteed it.

But they’d trapped him.

"You—you bastards—!"

A gunshot cut him off. The bullet pierced his skull, and he collapsed, lifeless.

The assistant dropped to her knees. "Please! Spare me! I’ll work for you!"

The assassin scoffed. "Orders are orders."

Another shot rang out.

The bullet tore through her eye, and she fell, motionless.

Once the assassins confirmed both were dead, they holstered their guns and turned to leave.

But halfway back, shadows lunged at them. Cloth muffled their screams before they were knocked unconscious and dragged into a hidden room.

Minutes later, four identical imposters strode into the main hall.

Inside, Su Hua had already dealt with the first woman. Now, her gaze locked onto another.

Her lips curled as she purred, "So, you’re the one who said you’d make my little bed slave beg for more?"

The woman’s legs shook violently.

"I-I’m sorry!" she begged. "I was wrong! Please, let me go!"

Su Hua laughed coldly. "Oh? But I don’t believe you."

She strode forward and delivered a series of sharp slaps—crack! crack! crack!—across the woman’s face.

The woman tried to flee, but Su Hua yanked her back effortlessly.

Terror flooded her eyes.

This woman was a monster. And with the assassins watching like spectators, no one would help her.

The slaps continued until the woman’s face was swollen and bloody, a tooth clattering to the floor. Only then did Su Hua kick her away.

The woman crashed into a table leg, the impact knocking her unconscious.

Su Hua’s gaze swept the room, landing on the next target.

The remaining women cowered, praying she wouldn’t notice them.

Then Su Hua spotted a fruit knife.

She picked it up, twirling it between her fingers, before approaching another woman.

"You boasted about your beauty, didn’t you?" Su Hua’s voice dripped venom. "Told my little bed slave to admire your face?"

These fools had dared to steal what was hers.

And for that, they’d pay.