Night falls and the city lights flicker on. A luxury car glides smoothly down the street. Inside the spacious business van, Jill Young lounges comfortably on a wide sofa. Across from her sits Jonathan Black, his face unreadable, exuding an air of deep calculation. The driver is, of course, Charlie, while Bobby Brooks rides shotgun.
"Your Majesty, you were absolutely savage today!" Bobby Brooks still can't hide his excitement: "You're gonna be the new star of the ring—no, a supernova! Everyone will be your slave!"
"Slave? Uh," Jill Young suddenly imagined the sound of a whip cracking by her ear, shivering as she quickly replied, "Let me be clear, I'm not that kind of 'Queen.' Don’t make me think of anything gross."
Jonathan Black didn't understand what Bobby and Jill were saying in Chinese. If he could, he'd realize his assistant was getting more and more domesticated. He watched Jill carefully, making sure his gaze didn’t annoy her. He softened his voice, making it sound extra magnetic: "How are you holding up today?"
"Hmm? You think I’m not used to this?" Jill Young felt right at home in this kind of scene.
"I mean, being locked in a cage, watched like a trapped beast—lots of people can't handle that," Jonathan Black shrugged. "Plenty of promising fighters just couldn't get past it mentally. They instinctively hated the ring, and when they refused it, the ring refused them back. In the end, they all kicked the bucket. Just wondering if you’ve got any psychological hang-ups about that."
"Nope, not at all," Jill Young replied without hesitation. "The one in the cage isn’t always the beast, and the ones outside aren’t always the bosses. Far as I’m concerned, those screaming idiots outside don’t matter. I’m just here for the fun and the cash." Then something popped into her mind: "By the way, how much do I get paid for a fight?"
Bobby Brooks immediately reported, "For tonight’s match, Your Majesty gets thirty grand. I mean RMB."
"Thirty thousand?" That didn’t sound like much—she’d expected way more. But then she thought about it: a regular office worker making three grand a month would have to scrimp and save all year to bank thirty thousand. For just one fight—or really, not even a fight, just beating up some poor sap—she got a year’s salary and felt great doing it. This gig was absolutely awesome.
Turns out, working in the underworld really is a fast way to make money!
Jonathan figured Jill was just scoffing at the money—after all, someone who can toss around ten million bucks in gold probably thinks thirty grand is chump change. He quickly explained, "This is just the first match. As your fame skyrockets and the competition heats up, your earnings will go through the roof. Plus, one of the biggest sources of income in these matches is betting. I just pocketed a hundred grand tonight. Going forward, we split all gambling winnings fifty-fifty. Deal?"
"Fifty-fifty? Works for me! Glad we settled that so painlessly."
"To celebrate our big win tonight, I booked us a fancy dinner." Jonathan looked at Jill, voice tinged with nerves—which was hilarious, considering he’s used to women throwing themselves at him and never loses his cool, even when undressing them. Yet tonight, just asking Jill out made him sweat. "I mean, it’s the best spot in all of Hong Kong—killer views, top-notch food. What do you say?"
Jonathan knew his first impression with this girl wasn’t great—he could sense that simmering hostility. Plus, most women are naturally wary of a guy’s invite. He had no clue if Jill would actually say yes.
"Go? Absolutely! Of course I’m in!" Jill slapped Jonathan’s shoulder, grinning wide. "Kid, you’ve got style! Everyone says Hong Kong is wild—since you’re a local big shot, hurry up and show me the ropes! Hey, Pops, step on it!"
Man, this girl is a whole different breed—no matter how you slice it.
That night, Jill stormed into the penthouse revolving restaurant of some luxury skyscraper. They say you can see one of the world’s three greatest night views—Hong Kong in all its neon glory. Most folks at a place like this are decked out in designer suits and dresses, trying to look extra fancy. Jill? She rolled in wearing sweats, eating and drinking like a tornado—definitely stood out.
The three guys were squirming under all the weird stares, but Jill didn’t care at all. Ever since she hit level three in the Titan Spirit Method, her appetite just kept growing—to keep up with her insane energy burn.
After the feast, Jonathan whipped out a bank card, saying Jill’s gold had been swapped for RMB—spend away, no worries. Jill declared the task a job well done, gave Jonathan and Bobby a nod for their hustle, and then dropped the next mission.
"Listen up—I want a beast."
"A beast?" Jonathan, Bobby, and Uncle Chao all exchanged confused looks.
"Yep, a beast!" Jill jabbed at her plate—the steak was prime Kobe beef, melt-in-your-mouth good. But Jill looked totally unimpressed: "This stuff grew up pampered, with music, massages, climate control. No flavor! I want something tough, fierce, wild, huge—a true survivor from the top of the food chain!"
Jonathan ventured, "You mean—you want a pet lion?" That kind of hobby was dangerous and downright bonkers.
But Jill’s answer was even crazier: "No, I want a whole pride of lions for hotpot! Siberian tigers, jaguars, African elephants, Nile crocs, Komodo dragons—doesn’t matter what, as long as it’s wild and there’s plenty. I want to roast them all!"
Jill’s eyes sparkled. In the ancient world, she powered up the Titan Spirit Method with her own strength; in modern society, she’d use an even greater force—cold, hard cash—to level it up even further.
Across the table, Jonathan was the fastest to react to Jill’s wild requests. He thought for a moment, then said, "Everything you listed is protected wildlife. International authorities are cracking down hard right now. I’ll have to work some magic."
Magic, meaning money. As a dyed-in-the-wool, red-flag-waving millennial, Jill got the message instantly.
"Work your magic—money’s no issue." Jill tossed the million-dollar bank card back to Bobby. "No trade, no kill. But if there’s trade, the killing follows, right? More, faster, fresher—that’s my last requirement."
"No problem. Give me three days, and you’ll have everything you asked for." As the boss of an international trading company, Jonathan was brimming with confidence.
"Ha! I like you more and more!" Jill was beaming. Partnering with Jonathan was definitely the right move—no way she could’ve scored this kind of loot on her own.
"Well, it’s getting late. Here’s to a great partnership." Jonathan reached out, eyes glinting with a touch of anticipation as he looked at Jill’s hand.
"Deal! Here’s to us!" Jill grabbed his hand. The moment their skin touched, that electric jolt hit again—only this time, it was even stronger and lasted longer.
Because Jill didn’t let go.
"Listen, kid—your shifty eyes? Not a fan." Jill squeezed Jonathan’s hand, pulled him in close, and stared him down. "Fix that, and you’ll go places."
After giving Jonathan’s shoulder a big, showy pat, Jill finally let go and strode off with style. Jonathan let out a long breath, legs wobbling—almost toppled over.
"Boss, you okay?" Bobby rushed to steady him. "You alright, boss?"
"I’m fine." Jonathan caught his breath, back to normal. He told Bobby, "Alright, go tell Purchasing to put in the order. Mix her request in with the shipment. You don’t need me to spell out the details, do you?"
"You got it, boss!"