“Shang Wuxin, you know what? Your kiss disgusts me!” Du Xingfeng sneered, revealing an expression she had never seen before, a stark contrast to the gentle façade he usually presented. This was the true face of his ambition and malice. “A woman r*ped by her adoptive father since childhood… do you think I’d actually enjoy kissing you?” He continued, relishing her unchanging expression, frustrated by her lack of fear or sorrow. “You’re filthy! How could I ever touch you? Oh, and everyone knows about your many lovers. You’re nothing but a whore!”

A flicker of intense light ignited in the depths of Shang Wuxin’s eyes, unseen by the man who had so carelessly unearthed her most painful memories, the nightmares of her past.

"What a pity," Shang Wuxin said, rising abruptly. Her movements, steady and graceful, betrayed no sign of the poison coursing through her veins. She settled back onto the sofa, a chilling smile playing on her lips. "I had intended to spare your life, but now… I've lost all interest."

Fear finally gripped Du Xingfeng. He reached for the gun concealed beneath his clothes, but before he could draw it, Shang Wuxin, still seated, produced a pen and plunged it into his throat, silencing him instantly.

Du Xingfeng's eyes remained wide open in death. He would never understand how she had moved with such lethal speed, how she remained unaffected by the poison. Her skills were like something out of a martial arts film. Sadly, he would never have the chance to learn the truth.

“Miss!” A woman rushed in. Wuwei, Shang Wuxin’s right hand and the housekeeper of the mansion. Seeing her mistress seemingly weakened, her eyes filled with tears.

Shang Wuxin offered a nonchalant smile, her face now paling, the effortless composure fading.

“Wuwei,” she addressed the woman, “remove him. Don’t let him defile my home. When I’m gone, this estate is yours. I know you have no interest in such things, but it represents considerable power. This way, you can live as you please, without fear.”

“Miss!” Wuwei cried, tears streaming down her face as she looked at Shang Wuxin’s captivating smile. This was the mistress she had always served. The world saw only her ruthlessness, her fearsome reputation, but Wuwei knew the burdens she carried.

Shang Wuxin waved a dismissive hand, her gesture carrying an undeniable authority. Wuwei, with a final, lingering glance, dragged the body from the room, out of the opulent mansion that so many coveted, unaware of the chilling emptiness within.

As Wuwei left the mansion, she saw flames erupt from within, a raging inferno quickly engulfing the structure. She stood there, tears streaming down her face, before falling to her knees, crying out, “Miss!”

Shang Wuxin sat in the burning room, her gaze fixed on a photograph on the table. It depicted a small girl, her face radiating innocent joy. It was a picture of her at five years old, the only photograph from a life that had known little joy since.

Everyone knew of the Shang family’s wealth and influence, their unparalleled status within the nation. But few knew they were a family steeped in ancient martial traditions, a clan with powers seemingly ripped from the pages of wuxia novels. Unlike the reclusive sects of legend, however, the Shang family thrived amidst the bustling city, fiercely vying for power and influence.