The Chu Family has flourished for generations, tracing its roots back to the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms era as a prestigious Jiangnan clan. During the Northern Song, they seized on the lucrative trade with southern nations, expanding along the South Sea coast and rising to elite status. But after the turmoil of the Jingnan Campaign and the Song court's retreat south, northern gentry flooded into the region, squeezing the Chu Family's territory. Forced to relocate, they found themselves at the southernmost tip—far from the flames of war, which, depending on how you look at it, was either a stroke of luck or a costly setback.
The Chu Family has always been merchants, amassing vast wealth. But in an age where "everything is lowly except for scholarship," money alone doesn't get you far—you need connections in the imperial court to get things done. So the Chu Family has long tried to use their fortune to nurture a few high-ranking officials as their shield. Unfortunately, luck hasn't been on their side: they've bought and sold plenty of titles, but few family members have ever made it to the top, let alone become key figures in the government.
In the past three generations, apart from Old Master Chu's exhausting efforts to keep a nominal duke's title, the family has had no one in the court to lean on. Rich, but powerless—a dangerous situation. The bigger the tree, the more it catches the wind; if a storm ever hits, all their splendor could vanish overnight. Old Master Chu tried everything to turn things around, but those efforts are best left unspoken.
What outsiders see is the Chu Family’s sprawling mansion in Putian City, covering hundreds of acres.
What outsiders hear is the fame of the Chu Family’s eldest daughter, renowned for her mastery of music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, and song.
Rumor has it that Miss Chu is the very model of propriety, rarely showing her face in public. But anyone who’s ever seen her—even from afar—can’t help but boast to everyone they know: Charlotte Cloud is true peerless beauty!
Late at night, deep within the Chu Family’s grand estate, the highest-class boudoir is still brightly lit.
The maid lights twelve lamps, each fueled by premium oil refined from deep-sea fish fat—smokeless and scentless, a boudoir essential. Even when she sleeps, Charlotte Cloud insists on at least six lamps burning, keeping her room perpetually bathed in light. That unending glow has become her trademark. But tonight is different: Charlotte Cloud is still awake at midnight, energetically painting calligraphy at her desk.
She grips a massive brush, as thick as her wrist, carefully writing each character. Her little maid stands by, yawning and sneaking glances—though she can’t read the words, she thinks her mistress’s handwriting is beautiful.
“Miss, you’ve been practicing for two hours already. Don’t tire yourself out—please, get some rest.” The little maid brings a cup of tea and a handkerchief to wipe Charlotte Cloud’s brow.
Writing with such a huge brush is exhausting, and Charlotte Cloud was already worn out. But after a sip of tea, she shook her head: "No, the Celestial Arts Ensemble arrives the day after tomorrow. Now’s not the time to slack off."
"Miss, is that Celestial Arts Ensemble really that amazing? I heard they’re pretty skilled, and there’s talk about some kind of 'picture book' circulating too."
"Hmph, they're just a bunch of performing girls, singing vulgar tunes and playing cheap tricks. Selling their voices and smiles, begging for attention—ridiculous! No different from brothel women. People like that aren’t fit for any respectable stage, and as for 'talent,' they’re nowhere close! You’re learning the proper arts with me, so don’t let yourself be fooled by those courtesans’ cheap stunts!" Charlotte Cloud scoffed at the Celestial Arts Ensemble, loudly scolding her maid, then returned to her writing. "Still, even a lion uses its full strength to catch a rabbit. The day after tomorrow, I’ll tear off their fancy costumes and show the world who they really are!"
The little maid could only sigh quietly. Truth be told, she just wanted to sleep, but her mistress had a rule: after dark, if she’s awake, someone has to keep her company. If Miss doesn’t sleep, neither can she. So she needed to figure out a way to trick her mistress into going to bed.
Her eyes lit up as she got an idea: "Miss, I heard from Old Fourth the coachman that people are going crazy over rumors—apparently, Shawn Shaw, the notorious scoundrel, is back in the martial world. And besides him, there’s someone called Jade Hawk Johnson, supposedly an even bigger outlaw. Maybe you should be careful, close the windows, turn off the lights, and get some sleep."
But Charlotte Cloud wasn’t buying it—in fact, it just fired up her temper.
"Hmph, a coachman’s friends are all riffraff, always gossiping about shady business. All those wild stories are just rumors." Charlotte Cloud snorted, putting down her brush and lecturing her maid. "Demons, scoundrels, lawless rogues—they’re just petty crooks. Those so-called swordsmen and knife-wielders are nothing but tall tales! If you keep your heart righteous, evil can’t touch you. I’m Charlotte Cloud, daughter of the Chu Family, born under heaven’s mandate. Who cares about a bunch of martial world riffraff? Let them come!"
Charlotte Cloud’s scolding was truly fierce—her expression radiated righteous indignation and utter fearlessness. The little maid was cowed into silence, not daring to speak again.
Just then, a sudden crash came from outside the door—a toppled object, the sound so abrupt it sent chills down their spines.
"Ah!" The little maid jumped, instinctively glancing at her mistress. Charlotte Cloud had flinched too, but she forced herself to stay calm and barked, "What are you screaming for? Go see what’s going on!"
"Y-yes..." The little maid summoned her courage and walked to the door, calling out weakly, "Who’s there? Who is it?"
No one answered.
Suddenly, the little maid lost her nerve—she just had a bad feeling about whatever was outside. So she turned back and said, "Miss, it was probably just a night cat knocking over a basin."
Charlotte Cloud, of course, had no desire to go out either. She nodded, "Alright then, what could possibly happen in my own courtyard? I suppose that’s all it was, so when morning—" She didn’t finish. There was a loud crack, and suddenly a giant hand burst through the window, grabbing the little maid by the neck. Her eyes went wide with terror, but the hand squeezed so hard she couldn’t make a sound. With one powerful yank, the maid was lifted off the ground, her legs kicking, her face turning red, and soon she was gasping for air, eyes rolling back.
Charlotte Cloud was utterly stunned. In the candlelight, she thought she saw a ghostly green aura swirling around that hand—the whole room was plunged into terror by its presence.
Crunch, crunch—the arm holding the maid swept left and right, shredding the wooden door like it was paper. Through the ruined doorway, a burly man emerged from the darkness. Hair wild, skin dark—he didn’t look like a local at all. His eyes glowed like a ghost wolf’s, and his whole body radiated a twisted, sinister, and ominous energy.
Charlotte Cloud was paralyzed by that savage, greedy stare—her legs went weak, and she could barely stand.
The shock was just too much—everything had happened so suddenly.
"Help—" She tried to scream for help, but her cry was cut off as another burly man appeared out of nowhere and clapped a hand over her mouth. She struggled desperately, but her soft fists were useless, and the man just looked like he was enjoying it.
"Charlotte... Cloud..." The man's nose hovered near her, taking a deep sniff. In clumsy Mandarin, he sneered, "No fake—real heavenly beauty!"
"Mmmph!" Charlotte Cloud kept struggling, but the two men didn’t care. Each grabbed a woman and took off in a flash. The one carrying the maid paused at the doorway, pulled a piece of animal hide from his chest, and used an ink stick to copy something onto the ground. He double-checked it against the hide, then vaulted over the wall and vanished.
It was a dark, windy night—moving swiftly and silently, the whole operation went unnoticed by anyone in the Chu residence. The two men were quite pleased with themselves. But they missed something odd: no matter how soundly everyone slept, not a single person was woken by the sound of the door being smashed.
Of course, that was because someone had muffled the sound.
Right on the rooftop above the boudoir, two people watched the whole thing unfold. One looked devilishly charming, the other enchantingly seductive—who else could it be but the Demon King and the Enchantress duo?
"Me, the legendary winner of the wild side, just because I hesitated for a few seconds, got outpaced by my peers. What a sour feeling!" Jade Hawk Johnson smirked, "But you know, this kind of interference is actually pretty interesting—it’s made tonight a lot more fun."
The two of them floated down to the ground. In the candlelight, they saw a few crooked words written on the floor: 'Flower Thief Jade Hawk Johnson.'
"Honestly, those two impostors reek of something I really don’t like. And they can’t even copy my handwriting before forging my signature—that annoys me even more." Jade Hawk Johnson wiped the words away with his foot. "So, how should I deal with this irritation?"
"Hehe, didn’t you say that if anyone spread rumors about you again, you’d skewer them on a stick and hang them at the palace gates, then break their bones one by one?" The Enchantress cuddled up to Jade Hawk Johnson, her ample chest rubbing against his arm as her eyes sparkled with flirtatious charm. "You’re a man of your word—so if you stick to your own rules, you’ll feel much better~"
"I might have to break that rule this time—after all, the palace gates are a bit far." Jade Hawk Johnson wiped his nose, catching the lingering scent, and grinned meaningfully. "But aside from the 'palace gates' part, the rest is pretty easy to manage."
Two men radiating ghostly auras, two terrified girls—and not one of them noticed Jade Hawk Johnson was there.
Charlotte Cloud felt herself slung over the man's shoulder, bouncing along at breakneck speed. Dizzy and disoriented, she realized she was being carried out of Putian City, heading southeast, and soon plunged into the pitch-black wilderness. She tried everything to scream or call for help, but nothing worked. The man, annoyed by her struggles, punched her in the stomach. Pain exploded—her vision went black, and she passed out.
She had no idea how long she'd been out. Suddenly, her face was hit with a cold, salty splash—sea water, poured straight into her nose and throat. She woke up gasping and coughing violently. Wiping her face and forcing her eyes open, she saw she was now inside a small temple.
Waves crashed outside—the temple was clearly right by the shore. She couldn’t tell which god was worshipped here, but the place was quite fancy, with new-looking decorations and vessels.
But what should have been sacred ground was now turned into a den of evil by the presence of a gang of burly men.
Seeing the scene before her, Charlotte Cloud’s heart clenched and her mind went blank with fear.
She saw seven or eight women dressed as priestesses—some pinned to the ground, some held aloft, some bound hand and foot, some with joints dislocated, some gagged—all being assaulted and abused by those men. The women were all about twenty-six or twenty-seven, and quite attractive, obviously handpicked. But now, their beauty only seemed to fuel their tormentors’ frenzy.
The abuse had clearly been going on for a long time. The women had no strength left to cry or struggle; their occasional cries were weak and hoarse.
Even in the midst of their frenzy, the thirty or so men kept a strict pecking order—the best-looking women were reserved for the highest-ranking men. The one who woke Charlotte Cloud with the bucket of water stepped aside respectfully as an even more sinister man approached. This man wore a mask of black iron, twisted and menacing, shaped like a wolf’s head.