Yu Jieyou first became aware of an oppressive weight on her chest, as if a ghost were pinning her down—breathless, paralyzed. Is this what death feels like? As her consciousness gradually sharpened, even someone as seasoned as her was stunned by the sight before her eyes.

She lay sprawled on the bed like a limp, upturned frog, a man pressing down on her.

As an assassin, she had been trained in the art of killing since she could remember. She knew with absolute certainty that Lin Xiang’s bullet had sealed her fate—there was no surviving that shot.

Sensing her awareness, the man lifted his head. His long, ink-black hair cascaded down, obscuring most of his face, but his calm, unreadable eyes locked onto hers through the strands.

He was still fully clothed. The fog in Yu Jieyou’s mind instantly cleared, her obsidian-dark eyes flashing with a razor-sharp, glacial intensity. "You're—ugh!"

Her words shattered as his movements suddenly turned rough, forcing a faint gasp from her lips.

Though she couldn’t see his face clearly, she could *feel* the dismissiveness in his gaze—as if she were already a dead woman.

As one of the world’s most elite assassins, no one had ever dared to look at her with such contempt. Fury twisted into a cold smirk as her fingers curled tightly beneath the thin blanket.

Her beauty was striking—serene as a lotus rising from water, elegant yet unremarkable when still. But now, with that faint, mocking tilt of her lips, she exuded a dangerous allure that sent shivers down the spine.

The man faltered for a split second.

In that fleeting moment of distraction, the seemingly frail woman on the bed erupted with startling force—like a leopard lunging for its prey.

Her delicate hand transformed into a blade, slicing ruthlessly toward the back of his neck.

He could almost feel the sharp gust of wind from her strike, each gust cutting into his cheeks like knives. His gaze darkened profoundly, yet he didn’t evade. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, revealing a faint, enigmatic curve.

Yu Jieyou had never doubted her precision.

From the moment she took her first mission, she had never missed a mark.

But when she caught sight of the enigmatic smile curling at the razor-sharp edges of his lips, her heart inexplicably lurched with a violent thud. A foreboding sense of dread surged through her veins.

In the next instant, his long arm shot out, effortlessly seizing her slender waist. His index finger curled slightly before pressing ruthlessly against a critical pressure point on her lower back.

Before Yu Jieyou could react, a wave of weakness flooded her waist, forcing her knees to buckle beneath her.

The man chuckled darkly, his arm tightening around her delicate frame as he yanked her flush against his chest. The smirk on his lips dripped with mockery.

"Had your fun?"

Yu Jieyou’s eyes widened in disbelief. Damn it—she couldn’t muster even an ounce of strength!

Her hand had been mere inches from the major artery in his neck. One second—just one second—and she could have slit his fragile throat, sending this bastard straight to meet the Jade Emperor!

But now… Her teeth sank into her lips, drawing blood as crimson as her rage. For the first time in her life, she tasted the bitter tang of helplessness.

And just then, the man moved again—rough, relentless, as if punishing her for her earlier audacity.

Yu Jieyou’s gaze turned glacial, but every shred of strength had been drained from her body. Resisting was impossible; even lifting a finger had become an insurmountable task.