In a modern law office in District 8, the walls were made of soundproof glass, the furniture sleek and expensive, and the laptops were high-end machines hooked into digital archives.

  Thi?n, dressed in a white shirt and black blazer, sat focused in front of a screen. Beside him, his assistant Trung typed rapidly on a laptop, the sound of keystrokes echoing in the silent room.

  – “Mr. Thi?n! I just found a short video… it's related to Miss Trang.” Trung whispered, voice still charged with tension.

  – “Show me.”

  The screen lit up with a video: a lavish wedding, crystal lights glowing, laughter and cheer... then suddenly, a short-haired girl was dragged by the hair amid harsh insults.

  My, the heiress daughter of businessman Quy, shouted:

  – “You filthy orphan with no education—not even a primary school diploma—and you dare fantasize about my fiancé? Pathetic!”

  – “Look at yourself! Who would ever want a street rat like you? Living off scraps like a leech!”

  The girl being humiliated was Trang—in a pale blue shirtdress, her gentle face now flooded with hurt.

  The comments section below the video was filled:

  “Poor girl…”

  “Just because she's an orphan and poor… they treat her like trash?”

  “These rich people are monsters.”

  Trung clenched his jaw.

  – “These spoiled elites… no morals whatsoever!”

  Thi?n's voice dropped low.

  – “Get into My’s social accounts—Facebook, Instagram, all of them. Same with D?ng’s family. Pull everything: interactions, pictures, videos. Then connect to public archive servers and start digging into traffic accidents from around 25 years ago—the time Trang’s parents died. That data still lingers in old press databases and medical records.”

  Trung nodded and went to work with a gleam in his eyes—like a predator who had just caught the scent of blood.

  ---

  Meanwhile – Thanh Family Villa, District 9.

  The grand living room carried the breath of imperial East Asia. Golden silk lights cast warm hues on the carved timber pillars—dragons and phoenixes entwined in ancient elegance.

  Trang, lying on a long velvet sofa draped in royal purple silk, stirred. Her long lashes fluttered slightly.

  She suddenly sat up—her right hand swinging out instinctively in combat reflex.

  A swirling red circle of temporal energy began forming... but a firm hand caught her wrist.

  – “Planning to fight me?” said Erion, still in his disguised form—light skin and amber eyes like burning topaz—sitting across from her.

  – “You haven’t mastered your powers. Right now… you’re no match for me.”

  Trang gritted her teeth, her crimson eyes blazing like bullets. Erion’s stare was cold as glacial steel. Their eyes clashed like two opposing forces of fate.

  Din, leaning by the window, watched the scene unfold with delight.

  – “Well well... looks like we’re about to get a long-running drama series right here.”

  Yin, ever the composed one, approached the duo with a small smile:

  – “In all my centuries of observing couples, the ones who bicker the most at first… often fall the hardest in love later on.”

  Erion shot them both a glare sharp as a dagger:

  – “What nonsense. Me? Falling for this rude little creature? I’d rather stay single for another thousand years.”

  Trang snapped:

  – “If I had to marry someone like him, I’d rather tie the knot with a horse. Only the truly cursed would end up as his wife.”

  Erion turned his daggered gaze toward her.

  – “What did you just say? Who do you think you are?”

  Trang squinted:

  – “I’m the one and only Black Diamond of this universe.”

  Even the two elite royal bodyguards standing at the back couldn’t help but snicker behind cupped hands.

  The scene played out like a theatrical standoff between a cosmic warrior and the heir of darkness—staged perfectly inside a palace-like villa.

  But everyone could see the truth:

  Their hearts had begun to stir.

  They may deny it, they may fight it…

  But fate, already woven by the universe, had begun to bind them.

  Tension hung thick in the Thanh Dynasty-style villa in District 9—tight as a bowstring.

  Trang remained seated on the velvet sofa, her gaze blazing like wildfire, while Erion, across from her, met it with cold amber eyes as deep and still as an abyss.

  Sensing the storm brewing between the two, Din quickly stepped in with an emergency peace offering:

  – “Uh... it’s almost 7 p.m. now, and I’m starving. How about... we grab some dinner?”

  Yin picked up the cue smoothly, voice like a passing breeze:

  – “I’d be honored to host. My restaurant specializes in Southwestern Vietnamese cuisine—authentic and exquisite. Let’s dine there. My treat.”

  Trang pulled her wrist away from Erion’s grip, her voice calm but unyielding:

  – “Fine. But I’m not sitting at the same table as that guy.”

  Erion immediately shot back, narrowing his eyes like bullets chambered for war:

  – “Like I want to sit with you. You’re loud, rude, and impossible.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Din stepped in, tugging Erion’s arm while whispering through a grin:

  – “General, please… let’s go. My stomach’s been playing war drums for the past hour. Let’s not have an actual explosion in here.”

  Yin now turned to Trang, bowing politely:

  – “Princess, we’d be honored if you joined us for dinner. Let me properly introduce myself—I’m Yin, a vampire from the Qing Dynasty. And this gentleman here—” he gestured toward Din, “—is Count Din, a noble vampire from the Tudor era.”

  Trang returned the greeting, her tone soft but pointed:

  – “Nice to meet you both. You’re gentlemen—graceful and refined. As for him…”

  Erion growled, his amber eyes flashing with a ruby-red glow:

  – “What about me? I’m over a thousand years old, you know. You ought to show some respect to your elders.”

  Trang strode forward, hands on her hips, eyes defiant:

  – “Oh yeah? That’s how elders behave? Arrogant, loud, always acting like the center of the universe?”

  Erion scowled and opened his mouth to fire back, but Din quickly wedged himself between the two, both hands raised:

  – “Whoa whoa whoa… this isn’t divine combat, it’s a full-on word war. Save the smack talk for after dinner, yeah? Food goes down easier without flaming retorts.”

  Yin chuckled, shaking his head:

  – “This is the first time I’ve ever seen our mighty General this helpless. Looks like the universe really did make a counterbalance just for you.”

  In the corner, the two royal Satanic bodyguards struggled to hold back their laughter—shoulders shaking silently as they covered their mouths.

  The tension slowly began to ease…

  But the scent of gunpowder still lingered in the grand room like a ghost unwilling to leave.

  At Thi?n's law office in District 8, the atmosphere was tense and laser-focused.

  Trung, his assistant, sat at his laptop, eyes wide and glowing with excitement. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet and shouted:

  – “Mr. Thi?n! I found it!”

  Thi?n rushed over to the desk, eyes glued to the screen. There, a faded headline read:

  "HORRIFIC ACCIDENT ON Cù M?NG PASS – COUPLE KILLED, BUT THEIR DAUGHTER MIRACULOUSLY SURVIVES"

  He skimmed through the article:

  “…a married couple traveling in a silver Daewoo Nubira sedan, license plate 60Z-XXXXX, veered off the mountain pass on their way from HCMC to Phú Yên. Their 5-year-old daughter was found beneath the backseat, miraculously surviving with only minor injuries…”

  Thi?n’s voice dropped, low and grave:

  – “This is it. That little girl… was Trang.”

  Trung adjusted his glasses, his expression serious:

  – “Mr. Thi?n, do you feel it too? According to what Master and Uncle shared with us, this accident… wasn’t just bad luck. My instincts say this was orchestrated.”

  Thi?n nodded, his face darkening:

  – “Dig into everything about that car. Model, year, registration details—don't skip a single inch. Flip it inside out.”

  Trung’s fingers flew across the keyboard. Fifteen minutes later, he turned the screen toward Thi?n.

  – “The car was indeed a four-seater sedan, as the article stated. But here's the catch—the license plate was registered in ??ng Nai, while Trang’s parents were Saigon residents.”

  Thi?n narrowed his eyes:

  – “So… they rented it? Let’s trace the registration—find out who officially owns the vehicle. What about photos of her family?”

  Trung shook his head:

  – “Not much online. Just a few low-quality images attached to old articles.”

  Thi?n folded his arms behind his back, pacing:

  – “D?ng’s in-laws—the ??c family—are the ones who passed the info to Master and Uncle. I’ll ask their son to help us retrieve old family photos of Trang’s parents.”

  ---

  Meanwhile, across the city in a townhome in District 3, Mr. V?nh and Trúc Di?n were quietly preparing dinner. Just then, Mr. V?nh’s phone rang. He placed it on speaker.

  – “Master, Uncle—it’s me, Thi?n. I’m deep into the investigation. I need more photographs—of Trang’s parents, and of her as a child.”

  Trúc Di?n stepped into the living room, his tone calm and commanding:

  – “I’ll ask Anh Tú for help. He’s close to the family. If there are any old photo albums left, he’ll be able to retrieve them. We’ll get you results quickly.”

  Mr. V?nh nodded at the update:

  – “Excellent. The more photos we have, the easier it is to track lingering demonic energy, if any. This might be a critical clue.”

  Without delay, Trúc Di?n texted Anh Tú:

  “We need your assistance. My disciple is investigating the accident—please help us locate any photographs of Trang’s parents. Check all family albums.”

  Five minutes later, a reply came in:

  “Understood. I’ll report back with anything I find.”

  Trúc Di?n glanced at Mr. V?nh:

  – “He knows what needs to be done.”

  The Mekong Delta Cuisine Restaurant in District 1 lit up as soon as evening fell, its interior radiating the charm of Southern Vietnam’s river culture. The décor was simple yet captivating—natural materials like bamboo, wood, and thatch were used throughout.

  Woven bamboo lanterns hung from the rustic ceiling. At the center of the hall sat a lotus pond, complete with a wooden paddle boat. Nearby stood clay jars with coconut ladles resting on their rims.

  Red-brick floors, bundles of straw, traditional clay stoves, ceramic bowls, garlic and shallot braids—every detail evoked the nostalgia of an old Vietnamese countryside kitchen.

  Just then, the entrance to the grand hall was graced by a sight that made every head turn.

  A black Bentley rolled to a stop outside. When the door opened, three men stepped out, radiating an aura of nobility:

  Din—styled like an English aristocrat, his tea-brown hair combed back with a metallic sheen, his beard perfectly groomed, and his sapphire eyes deep as the ocean. His presence silenced the room.

  Yin—a true embodiment of Eastern nobility. His silver-streaked hair and graceful manner, the ancient T? Nham prayer beads in his hand, and a Hetian jade ring on his finger exuded reverence and wisdom.

  Erion—in his modern disguise, fair-skinned and built like a warrior. His amber eyes gleamed with untamed power. Dressed in a black knit sweater, charcoal trousers, and a gray trench coat, he looked like a leading man from a high-budget action film.

  Then, a black Cadillac pulled up behind them.

  Two royal bodyguards opened the door for a woman whose beauty stunned the entire restaurant.

  Trang—with the figure of a Latin supermodel. Her sun-kissed skin, flawless hourglass shape, and long flowing black hair turned every head. But it was her blood-red eyes, with swirling space-time irises, that stirred awe… and fear. She wore a modern yet commanding outfit: a white ruffled blouse with a noble flair, black leather leggings, a crossbody bag, and black high-heeled boots.

  Trailing behind her were the two royal Satanic bodyguards, silent and stoic—like an imperial escort.

  As the group stepped in, the entire restaurant seemed to freeze in time. Conversations died. Breaths were held. Whispers scattered across the air:

  – “Oh my God... they look like movie stars…”

  – “That couple—are they from a magazine shoot or something?”

  Din muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the room:

  – “And this… is exactly why I hate public places.”

  Erion raised an eyebrow, smirking:

  – “You’re already here. Might as well play along... blend in with a little theatrics.”

  Yin calmly approached the hostess and spoke with a gentle tone, requesting a private room. The staff bowed immediately and ushered the mysterious guests deeper into the establishment—to a hidden, luxuriously appointed VIP section, reserved only for royal-level patrons.

  The VIP section of the Southern-style restaurant glowed softly in the warm yellow light, wrapping the space in a nostalgic, cozy ambiance. The walls were adorned with paintings of endless green rice fields, misty cottages at dusk, and young boys herding buffalo on golden plains. Interwoven among them were conical hats painted by hand with unique floral motifs.

  The servers, dressed in traditional áo bà ba, black pants, and patterned kh?n r?n scarves wrapped around their necks or tied into their hair, moved gracefully through the space. They brought out a delightful spread of authentic Mekong Delta dishes.

  On the table were steaming L?u Cá Kèo B?ng ?iên ?i?n, Cá Lóc N??ng Trui, G?i C? H? D?a and ?c B??u N??ng Tiêu Xanh—each dish plated with rustic charm yet undeniable elegance.

  Trang, Yin, and Din had lived in Vietnam for years and were well-acquainted with the flavors of the southern countryside. Only Erion looked bewildered, as if he'd just stepped into an alien culinary realm.

  – “These dishes… they look strange,” Erion muttered, eyeing the plate of snails suspiciously.

  Yin smiled knowingly:

  – “Go ahead, Commander. They’re local delicacies from the Mekong region—humble, but refined.”

  Trang, seated across from Erion and beside Din, cast him a teasing glance:

  – “Weren’t you the one boasting about being over a thousand years old? And yet you can’t even recognize a simple Southern Vietnamese dish?”

  Erion shot her a sharp glare, but a faint hint of embarrassment flickered in his amber eyes.

  Din quickly stepped in to diffuse the tension:

  – “Alright, everyone, let’s enjoy the meal. So, Trang… after dinner, are you heading back to the Bình Chánh base, or do you have other plans?”

  Trang gently set her chopsticks down. Her expression softened:

  – “I’m not sure yet. I’ve been searching for information about the accident that killed my parents. My father told me I’m the ‘Black Diamond’... just like that annoying guy over there.”

  She threw a side-eye at Erion before continuing:

  – “But now I know… I was adopted. They raised me like their own daughter. They may not have given me life, but they gave me everything else.”

  Din nodded, his expression sharpening as the gears in his mind began turning:

  – “That explains it… If Satan himself confirmed your identity, then your arrival on Earth was no coincidence—it was orchestrated.”

  Yin spoke next, his voice thoughtful and composed:

  – “We’ve been analyzing your energy structure. It’s almost identical to the Commander’s. Whether you’re his antithesis or his equal half, things are finally starting to make sense.”

  He placed his hand gently on the table, his gaze steady on Trang:

  – “As for the accident… we’re investigating it too. If you wish, you can join us in unraveling the truth behind that case.”

  Trang didn’t hesitate. Her eyes gleamed with quiet resolve:

  – “I accept. That’s the only thing I want right now.”

  Erion remained silent.

  No one noticed, but his gaze lingered on a single strand of her dark hair draped across her shoulder. The chopsticks in his hand trembled ever so slightly—gripped tightly.

  He was thinking about something serious.

  And for once… it had nothing to do with war.