Chapter 1: Seductive Kill

In a top-floor suite of a themed hotel in S City, the room was thick with ambiguity. Heavy, ragged breathing and involuntary moans filled the space. The wine-red gauze curtains draped heavily over the bed, yet they could not conceal the bodies entwined beneath them. The man’s bronze skin was slick with sweat, and the woman beneath him had her spaghetti-strap dress torn to shreds, leaving her charms exposed in a most alluring display.

"Wei, you are so beautiful..." The man, already lost in passion, whispered her name in a low voice. His scorching kiss descended once more, sealing her lips and tongue, driving deep.

The woman’s eyes had been half-closed, appearing as though she were hopelessly drowning in the pleasure, but in reality, a sharp glint of calculation was hidden within them.

"Mmm..." She let out a coquettish moan, causing the darkness in the man’s eyes to deepen.

Finally, he pulled away from her slightly swollen lips and buried his face in the crook of her neck, nibbling gently. Even in his haste, there was a hint of doting tenderness.

It was then that she finally opened her eyes. Her clear, cold, sharp gaze held a trace of impatience as she stared at the ceiling, seemingly waiting for something.

"Wei..." The man let out another involuntary, low cry. However, the moment he lifted his head, his eyes suddenly rolled back, and he collapsed onto Murong Wei.

Despite his size, Murong Wei pushed him aside with a single shove, exerting no effort at all.

She had undergone various forms of training since the age of eight, raised personally by the Old Master. By thirteen, she had become a professional assassin. Great strength was only one of her traits; she was proficient in everything from hypnosis and poisoning to parkour and both Western and Eastern medicine.

The man on the bed was dead, though no one would know how. Even when the coroner arrived later, they would likely find nothing.

Wrapped in a bedsheet, the first thing she did upon getting out of bed was not to flee, but to carefully peel off the thin film she had applied to her mouth. Even though that man was the "tall, rich, and handsome" ideal for many women, she felt nothing but disgust. That five-minute contact had nearly driven her to chop him down on the spot.

Next, the second thing she did was still not to flee, but to take a shower.

She was lazy about everything except bathing, counting money, and reading novels.

The greatest joy in her life was soaking in a bathtub, finishing her calculations on a counter, and then slowly devouring a novel.

An hour later, when she emerged from the bathroom with calm composure, she had changed into a dirty janitor’s jumpsuit. Hidden within the wide pant legs were ten-centimeter stilettos. She was satisfied with everything about herself—big eyes, a high nose—except for her height, which was barely 1.68 meters.

She pulled an old-fashioned instant camera from her wide pocket and snapped a photo of the man’s pale face. A vintage-style photograph slowly slid out from the base of the camera.

"Five million, done!" She held the photo between two fingers and grinned, her eyes curving into crescents and a pair of dimples appearing, making her look quite adorable.

In the assassin business, reaching her level meant she didn't come out of retirement for three years, but one job would feed her for three. Closing this deal meant she had another three-year vacation ahead of her.

People in the circle compared her to a dormant volcano: periodic eruptions, followed by periodic dormancy.

She glanced at the time, grabbed a fountain pen from the table, and used it to pin up her waist-length hair. Only then did she shoulder her toolbox and, humming a little tune, prepared to retreat.

But at that very moment, she stopped abruptly. She suddenly felt her head growing heavy, as if something had pressed down on her all at once. When she instinctively reached to remove the pen holding her hair, a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her vision went black, and she could see nothing. She only faintly heard the sound of hotel alarms, chaotic clamor, the rattling of carriage wheels, the cracking of whips, the clashing of cold steel, angry shouts, and weeping...

No, why were these sounds becoming so strange?

What was going on?

"Fourth Miss, it’s a disaster!" Suddenly, the voice became clear, very close, as if it were right beside her ear...

A Note to the Readers A new book, a new child. Participating in the original competition, asking everyone for a rating, please give me full marks... Ten thousand words delivered on the first day.