Fyren scratched his forehead, unsure how to end this.
Hakan's face had turned ashen.
Zaring, Eason, and the others buzzed with excitement.
Fyren bit his lip and asked the big brother, "What do you do, big brother? What's your name?"
"Dissercace."
Fyren nodded. "Helpful as can be."
Hakan clenched his fists, his expression on the verge of exploding.
At that moment, Sabrina scooted her chair closer to Fyren, all smiles.
Her arm rested naturally on his shoulder, her gaze soft and beautiful—filled with adoration, excitement, anticipation, and appreciation.
"Fyren, you're amazing! I'm so happy you drew the biggest card."
Sabrina turned on the charm, her eyes shimmering with calculated allure.
I don't believe I can't handle you! she thought fiercely.
Fyren calmly pushed her arm away without even meeting her eyes.
Inside, he seethed:
[I can't. I can't keep doing this! This damned girl won't leave me alone—it's sickening.
[I need to figure something out, or this disgusting witch will be the death of me.]
Sabrina stiffened.
Again!
He didn't say a word, yet I heard him!
'Dead girl'? 'Disgusting witch'?!
Her composure wavered.
Never in her life had she been called such things.
Men had showered her with "sweetheart," "goddess," "queen," "beauty," "darling sister"—every flattering word under the sun.
Yet in his mind, she was a "dead girl"? A "disgusting witch"?
Are you even a man?!
Fyren cleared his throat. "Haha, just kidding—I cheated. This game doesn't count. Uh… surrender and lose half."
Hakan jolted to life. "Y-yes! Surrender loses half! Surrender loses half!"
Eason immediately protested. "Since when was that a rule?"
Hakan insisted, "It's always been this way! Surrender and lose half!"
Fyren shrugged. "Fine, let's arm wrestle instead. Hakan, let's see if you've still got that same domineering spirit from back then."
Hakan, now realizing Fyren was offering him an out—even at his own expense—readily agreed. Whether drawing cards or arm wrestling, Fyren would throw the match to save face.
"Fine! Let's see how well Young Master Fyren's kept himself all these years. Haha!"
The two locked hands on the table.
One. Two. Three. They began.
Fyren was now the heir to the Great Sage's Tiger-Subduing Fist—a true ancient martial artist in the making.
Arm wrestling a pampered rich kid was laughably easy.
He pretended to strain, though he barely exerted himself.
I'll just lose to him on purpose and get my brothers out of here.
But then—Dissercace did it again.
Fyren pretended to be exhausted, slowly lowering his wrist as Hakan nearly claimed victory.
But then—one of Dissercace's hidden weapons shot beneath the table. Startled, Fyren instinctively tightened his grip and slammed Hakan's hand down with sudden force.
Did he just… push back?
A split-second reversal.
Eason, Zaring, Hale, and the others erupted in cheers.
Moments earlier, they'd been frantic, barely resisting the urge to intervene as Fyren lost ground. Now, seeing him seize victory outright, they leaped from their chairs like fans witnessing an underdog team topple a champion.
Hakan stood frozen.
Fyren shot Dissercace a glare sharp enough to draw blood.
Sabrina simmered on the verge of explosion.
She'd seen it clearly: Fyren's martial skill meant defeating Hakan would've been effortless. Yet he'd wanted to lose.
He's mocking me. He can't wait to be rid of me!
Is this man… even human?!
"Hakan," Fyren said flatly, "surrender."
Hakan jolted to life. "Right! I surrender—I surrender!" He whirled on his entourage, wild-eyed. "Surrender loses half! Surrender loses half!"
Fyren exhaled. "One last game. Winner takes all?"
"Deal!"
Hakan turned to Dissercace. "You—out."
"Young master, I can assist—"
"No. I can't keep 'surrendering' my way out. Leave. I'll win without you."
Dissercace stiffened, then stalked off in disgrace.
"So, Fyren," Hakan said, "what's the challenge this time?"
"Aura."
"Aura?" Hakan blinked. "How?"
The room buzzed in confusion. How does one measure the immeasurable?
Fyren gestured. "Look at me."
"Uh… okay." Hakan obeyed.
Fyren nodded. "You win."
"What?"
Rising, Fyren clapped Hakan's shoulder. "You're paying for this table."
Hakan seized Fyren's hand, pumping it like a lifeline. "Fyren—you're a legend! Next round's on me in Crystalpeak! Whole crew!"
Fyren chuckled, shaking his head. "We're fucking classmates. Fighting over a girl? Grow up. Need me in Crystalpeak? Just call."
"That's my brother!"
Eason slammed his glass down. "Fyren, what the hell? You just—gave up? Handed her to him?"
Fyren met his gaze. "Your girl's here. Mine's here. Right to take another?"
Eason faltered. Something unspoken flickered in Fyren's eyes. However furious, now wasn't the time. He drained his wine in one gulp, hauling Hale and Susan away with a scowl.
A man who can't protect a woman is worthless.
At that moment, Sabrina strode forward with practiced grace, stopping before Fyren with a perfectly composed smile.
"Fyren, do you despise me so much? I don't want to go with him. I want to stay with you. I won't ask for anything—I'll even serve as your maid."
The instant Fyren met her gaze, the shifting colors in her pupils sent his head spinning. His body tensed instinctively. Desperate, he grabbed Xena and kissed her fiercely.
A stunned silence fell over the room.
Fyren's mind buzzed as waves of unnatural desire crashed through him. His body reacted against his will. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he tightened his arms around Xena.
Xena, confused at first, quickly recalled Fyren's earlier thoughts—how he'd called Sabrina a "dead girl" and "disgusting witch." Though he'd used the same term for her before, this felt different.
When Fyren suddenly kissed her, her initial panic gave way to exhilaration. He's never been this passionate!
After a few token protests, she surrendered completely.
Let them watch! I love Fyren anyway!
Kiss me senseless!
Sabrina's rage reached its boiling point.
Never before defeated, an obsessive need to conquer Fyren ignited within her. I'll regret it forever if I don't break him!
When Fyren finally regained clarity, he slowly released Xena.
Gasping for air, Xena's legs trembled. Her heart pounded violently—partly from oxygen deprivation, partly from exhilaration.
Fyren exhaled sharply, relieved to have escaped Sabrina's influence again. He pinched Xena's flushed cheek. "Good?"
Dazed, Xena could only nod. "Amazing."
"Let's go home."
"Mhm."
Sabrina watched Fyren leave, her delicate fists clenching at her sides.
Fyren Zhang!
How can he resist my charm?
He appeared utterly ordinary—the kind of simpleton one could read at a glance: spoiled, arrogant, lecherous, greedy, self-righteous...
By all accounts, he should be just another weak-willed mortal, easily manipulated.
Yet he seemed to consciously evade her magic—or worse, genuinely resist it!
Her master's warning echoed in her mind:
"My disciple, your art has reached perfection. With your gifts, no man alive should withstand your charm. But remember three things..."
"First, this art must not be overused. The more advanced the technique, the more cautious you must be. Overuse will bring about its own retribution."
"Second, most masters of this art meet tragic ends. Countless predecessors have perished in the calamities of love. You must cultivate your body and preserve your true nature. Never open the gate of love lightly - one mistaken devotion, and you may be left without even bones to bury."
"Third, there will inevitably be someone in this world immune to your art. When you meet that person who remains unaffected, he is your true destiny. Remember, techniques can only arouse lust, never true love."
Her master had laid bare his wisdom.
From the very beginning, he had repeatedly warned her. The art of seduction might appear glamorous, but in truth, it inflicted terrible damage to one's soul.
A woman who could command wind and rain, who could make powerful men lose their minds and become slaves with just a crook of her finger...
Such a woman was a scourge, a siren, a harlot, a devil.
And when one possessed such power, the loneliness became unbearable.
An instinctive loathing of men would grow - loathing to the point of hatred, to disgust, to the extent that slicing their flesh with a knife would bring only relief, not a shred of pity.
Sabrina was exactly like this.
To her, all men under heaven were mere playthings, disgusting creatures ruled by lust.
The more they circled around her, trying to please her in every way, the more she despised them from the bottom of her heart.
When she had attached herself to the young lord and failed technique after technique, she realized: the young lord was her true destiny.
The young lord was her true destiny!
Under heaven, only the young lord remained untainted by filth, holy and untainted by demonic influence.
Only the young lord remained unmoved by beauty, his heart like iron - a great hero, a real man.
Other men were only worthy of being dogs for the young lord.
No, to be the young lord's dog was their greatest achievement, the manifestation of their ancestors' spirits.
For the young lord's sake, they must deal with Fyren!
They must!
But admittedly, this Fyren was proving somewhat... troublesome.
However... I, Sabrina, have more than a few tricks up my sleeve.
Fyren, I will conquer you!