"Zara Kingsley, you really are a brainless nobody. Today’s your last day on earth."

"Want to know how your parents and your brothers and sisters really died? We messed with the car. One turn and it went straight off the cliff. Bodies smashed to bits. The scene was… tsk, unforgettable."

"Quit crying. You’ll be joining them soon anyway. Once you’re dead, my dad can openly take your family’s money, and I can finally marry Maxwell Caldwell like I deserve."

The one spewing all this was Zara Kingsley’s older cousin, Fiona Kingsley. Her father, Damon Kingsley, was technically the second son of the Kingsley family, but he wasn’t even blood-related—just the child of an old friend that Zara’s grandparents took in back in the day.

Who would’ve thought Damon would grow up so twisted that he’d dare do something this vicious for money?

Zara’s fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms. Grief, anger, and despair tangled in her chest. Fiona stood in front of her smirking, while ten men in black lingered behind her. Any one of them could take Zara down with ease. Was she really going to die here today?

If she’d known her life would come to this, she would’ve begged her big brother to teach her some self-defense. At least she wouldn’t be this helpless now.

"Goodbye, Zara." As soon as Fiona’s voice fell, several shots rang out.

And then—someone darted out of nowhere and shielded Zara from every single bullet.

"Run. Don’t look back. I’ll hold them off."

"Just… live well… from now on…"

The moment Zara saw that beautiful, familiar face clearly, her tears broke loose. "Henson Lancaster, I—"

She didn’t even finish before Henson shoved her away with all his strength. Zara ran toward the deeper part of the woods like her life depended on it. She had to find help—Henson needed someone to save him.

But she didn’t get far. A group of guards Fiona had stationed ahead caught her easily.

Fiona eyed Zara coldly, completely unimpressed. "You’re nothing but bad luck. You ‘killed’ your parents and your siblings, and now even Henson ended up in the ocean feeding the fish because of you. That Lancaster boy really liked you, huh? He died for you, so you ought to go down there and keep him company. Be a pair of ghosts together."

"Get her buried. I want Zara Kingsley to suffocate under the dirt."

Zara fought like someone drowning, but the guards dragged her straight into a pit that had already been dug. As the soil piled higher and higher, Fiona finally relaxed and left. She needed to go find a lawyer and settle the inheritance quickly—better to get it done before anything unexpected happened.

But buried under the dirt, Zara didn’t die. Her consciousness slipped through several strange worlds—one filled with cultivators, another swallowed by the apocalypse…

And when she opened her eyes again, time hadn’t moved at all. She was still in the moment she had been buried alive.

Fiona had left over half an hour ago, but she’d ordered the guards to stay put, just in case anything went wrong.

The ground suddenly shook so hard it was like something underneath had exploded, and Zara Kingsley burst up through the dirt in one breath.

“You—are you human or a ghost? How are you still alive?” The lead bodyguard practically lost his soul on the spot. He scrambled to call the others over.

Zara’s eyes burned like there was a fire inside them. She swung once—just a light punch—and the lead bodyguard flew straight out, smashing into a tree with a sickening thud. No one could tell if he was still alive.

The rest of the bodyguards took one look and bolted. A moment ago she was a weak young lady who couldn’t even lift a chicken, and now she was… what, a walking nightmare?

“Running, huh?” Zara flicked her fingers. Vines shot out of nowhere and wrapped all ten of them tight.

No matter how they struggled, they couldn’t break free. “Please, spare us! Miss Fiona Kingsley made us do it!”

Zara gave them a cold, flat look. With one swipe of her hand, ten sharp ice spikes flew out and drove straight into their chests. Then she summoned her wood ability—within moments, the man‑eating plants devoured every trace of the bodies.

She flashed into her space, but the sight waiting for her made her stomach sink.

The paradise‑like realm was buried in thick fog. Everything she had worked her life across different worlds to gather—gone. All that remained was a villa and a warehouse. Worse yet, the spiritual energy in this world was pathetically thin; her cultivation had dropped sharply. At least her abilities were still working.

Once she exited the space, Zara rushed straight back to the city and headed for the company. She had to sell both the company and the villa immediately. Fiona Kingsley’s family wanted to divide the Kingsley assets? Dream on. Those three were probably already celebrating, thinking they were about to be rich.

Her parents’ company wasn’t huge, but the sale still brought in a hundred million. The villa sold for another thirty million. And earlier, she had emptied both properties with her space ability—every bag, every piece of jewelry, every valuable was sold off. All together, she now had a hundred and fifty million in cash.

Just then, Lawyer Chen showed up. He said that before Henson Lancaster had his accident, he’d already arranged everything—every asset under his name was to go to her. Another hundred million.

Hearing that made Zara’s chest tighten. Henson had been a rich young master, but after his parents favored the fake son, he was kicked out with nothing.

Yet in just a few months, relying only on himself, he started a company and was already doing well. With his brain, he would’ve surpassed the Lancasters sooner or later. But he died saving her.

In her heart, she whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll get revenge for you.”

Lawyer Chen’s message was clear—Henson didn’t want to leave a single cent to those so‑called parents.

That night, Zara had a strange dream. In it, she saw her dead family, she saw Henson, and she saw a girl with her exact name and face—being beaten badly by her adoptive parents.

The clothes that girl wore looked straight out of the seventies.

What was going on? Was this some kind of warning… that she was going to cross over?

And in about ten days?

Zara jolted awake. She didn’t have time to sit around and guess.

Right now, she needed to stock up—fast.

Early the next morning, Damon Kingsley’s whole family nearly fell apart. They’d thought the Kingsley fortune was finally within reach, and then Zara Kingsley went and sold off both the company and the villa overnight.

Damon almost passed out from rage right on the spot. The whole bunch kicked up a huge fuss, but in the end they were thrown out and had to drag themselves back to their shabby little place, looking like drowned rats.

All that scheming, and it all turned out to be for nothing.

So when Zara suddenly showed up at their door, Fiona Kingsley froze like she’d seen a ghost.

“This can’t be. I watched them put you in the ground with my own eyes. How are you standing here?”

Damon, his wife, and their son snapped completely and all lunged at Zara together. Zara lifted her leg and kicked out once—just once—and the three of them slammed into the wall with three heavy thuds before crumbling to the floor, groaning.

“Zara Kingsley, Henson Lancaster isn’t around to shield you anymore. Let’s see where you think you can run,” Fiona shouted, not even thinking straight as she pulled out a gun and fired.

Zara raised a hand, and a sheet of icy air stopped the bullet mid‑flight. Her voice was flat, cold.

“You? Kill me? Don’t kid yourself.”

The whole family went pale, their legs wobbling like jelly.

“Zara, sweetheart, be a good girl and let your uncle off this one time,” Damon pleaded, practically kneeling. “I swear, I’ll never touch a single cent of the family estate again. Just forgive us, please.”

Zara let out a low laugh—too soft, too eerie.

“Forgive you? That’s God’s job. Mine is to send you to meet Him and let you taste what it means to live worse than death.”

Then she struck. Fiona’s face was ruined in an instant. Damon and his son had their legs crippled. And Zara slipped a slow‑acting poison into all three of them before saying, almost casually,

“Oh, and this house? It’s actually mine. I’ve sold it already. Don’t bother thanking me. You’re welcome.”

Fiona clutched her mangled face, her voice cracking in terror.

“Zara Kingsley, I’m telling Maxwell Caldwell what you are. You’re a monster! If I can’t have him, then you can forget about marrying him!”

“Do whatever you want.” Zara didn’t even look back as she walked away. As for that fiancé—she’d never liked him anyway. And if she was really going to cross over to another era, stocking up supplies mattered a lot more.

Her mind wandered to last night’s dream:

The other girl with her name, covered in bruises from beatings; the foster parents dead set on selling off the three‑year‑old twins; the siblings torn apart; the war pension, the relief funds, the passed‑down jade pendant—all swindled away by that vile couple.