In a quiet townhouse in District 3, Master V?nh and Trúc Di?n sat down to dinner in contemplative silence. The soft chime of a notification echoed from Trúc Di?n’s phone. He glanced at the screen — an incoming clip sent by Thi?n, his most trusted disciple.

  The short video showed a scene from a wedding party at C?u D?ng’s estate. In the video, a girl with short hair — Trang — was being pulled by the hair and harshly insulted. The assailant was My, the pampered daughter of businessman Quy, berating Trang in front of the crowd when she still dressed like a quiet, unassuming tomboy.

  Alongside the video was a message:

  – “Master, Uncle — have either of you met My, daughter of businessman Quy? And does she have any relation to Mr. D?ng's family? Please share anything you know. Thank you.”

  Trúc Di?n handed the phone to Master V?nh. The old man’s eyes darkened as he watched the clip, his brows drawing into a tight frown.

  – “We’ve visited her before… through the referral of your old friend, Vú N?m,” he said in a low tone. “She was having nightmares. But in truth…”

  His voice grew grim. “It was the punishment of Satan — the Demon King himself.”

  Trúc Di?n set his chopsticks down, eyes narrowing like sharpened blades.

  – “That’s right. She and her rich circle admitted they’d humiliated Trang out of jealousy at D?ng’s daughter’s wedding. What they’re facing now… is deserved. Anh ?ào, Linh — they’re paying the price. It all started long ago.”

  Master V?nh nodded slowly, his voice like a calm wind—each word, a dagger:

  – “I’ve said this before — Satan doesn’t act on impulse. He is the hand of karmic retribution in the shadow world. When he strikes, it is always for a reason.”

  He pulled out his phone and typed a message back to Thi?n:

  – “My’s father is a long-time business partner and close friend of D?ng. Her fiancé, Tu?n, is also part of D?ng’s inner circle — along with other notorious elites like businessman Ti?n and Deep. They all belong to the same group of high-society hedonists.”

  Trúc Di?n continued examining an old photo of Trang — still a tomboy then, wearing a light blue shirt-dress, her short hair clipped with a small white plum blossom barrette. Her face was gentle and pure, yet burdened with a sorrow too deep for her age.

  – “She’s suffered so much… orphaned young, betrayed by her own blood, then mocked by the wealthy elite. But even then… her eyes stayed clear.”

  Master V?nh gazed into the distance, his tone as quiet as dusk:

  – “Satan has acted… which means he’s seen it all. Every detail. Every shard of her forgotten past.”

  He slowly placed his hand on the table.

  – “Perhaps… we should let karma run its course. Let those who look down on others taste hell — while still breathing in the air of this Earth.”

  Inside the VIP dining room — perfectly soundproofed from the rest of the restaurant—the group was savoring the rich, rustic flavors of Vietnam’s western countryside: hotpot with goby fish and sesbania flowers, grilled snakehead fish in husk, coconut heart salad, and pepper-grilled snails.

  Suddenly, Din’s phone rang, breaking the warm stillness.

  Yin glanced up calmly.

  – “Feel free to put it on speaker, Count. I designed this room to be completely sound-isolated. Nothing gets in — or out.”

  Din tapped the speaker button. A small demon’s voice came through clearly from the Gothic estate in District 2:

  – “Count, the target villa is still in utter chaos. Screaming nonstop. Neighbors are crowding the gate. Some folks even started filming and posting clips online.”

  Erion smirked, the corner of his mouth curling into something razor-sharp.

  – “The D?ng family… and that little brat My… will be screaming for a while. Satan’s already made his move. Might as well fan the flames a little for added entertainment.”

  Trang set her chopsticks down gently and turned toward Erion, her gaze sharp and questioning:

  – “So… you’re staying in the villa opposite Mr. D?ng’s neighborhood?”

  Din nodded, confirming with a grin:

  – “That’s right. We moved in this morning. Just three houses off to the left. It’s Yin’s villa, and the General himself came all the way here… to investigate you.”

  Erion cleared his throat, turning his face away. For once, his cold exterior seemed faintly flushed.

  – “Let’s eat quickly… and go enjoy the show. If you’d like… you’re welcome to join.”

  Din picked up a piece of grilled fish, smiling mildly.

  – “When you fainted earlier, we were worried those shamans — or the D?ng family — might discover something. That’s why we brought you to Yin’s estate. Just to keep you safe.”

  One of the Royal Satanic Bodyguards spoke up solemnly:

  – “Your Highness, ever since your awakening, both your appearance and aura have changed drastically. There’s no way the D?ng family would recognize you now.”

  Yin took a sip of lotus tea, eyes glinting with mischief.

  – “In that case, let’s swing by the supermarket for some snacks… then head back to the Gothic estate for our long-awaited drama night.”

  The room erupted into laughter.

  No one would have guessed that some of the darkest forces in the universe—ancient beings who had lived for millennia—were now gleefully preparing to watch earthly drama unfold in the heart of Saigon.

  At the law office in District 8, the atmosphere remained serious, clouded by the grim discoveries that kept surfacing. Lawyer Thi?n and his assistant Trung were having dinner while combing through case files and digital archives.

  Thi?n glanced at a new message from Master V?nh. His eyes sharpened, turning cold. Trung peeked at the contents and scoffed:

  – “These so – called elite playboys... all polish on the outside, rotten maggots underneath.”

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  Thi?n nodded, letting out a dry chuckle:

  – “We work in law. These kinds of people are like autumn leaves — countless. Everywhere reeks of dirty money and corrupted power.”

  They shifted to cross-reference data linking businessman D?ng, Mr. Quy, and his daughter My. Suddenly, Trung pointed at a connection:

  – “So... the man Trang once secretly liked was Tu?n — My’s fiancé?”

  Thi?n narrowed his eyes and opened Tu?n’s personal profile. His voice lowered, almost a growl:

  – “Tu?n is no saint. He chose My, who’s fifteen years younger, purely for wealth, influence... and youthful looks. Love? Please.”

  Trung sneered:

  – “Makes sense. Trang was the same age as My, orphaned, and came from a modest background. Nothing to offer — except her genuine, kind-hearted nature. Choosing her would’ve been like tying a noose around his own neck.”

  He kept scrolling through My’s public posts, still sarcastic:

  – “Look at this — she's already flaunting their upcoming wedding. It’s all about money and power consolidation. In their world, love is worthless. If you lack wealth, you’re thrown out like trash.”

  Just then, Trung’s phone rang. He answered. A voice came through in a calm tone:

  – “Sir, I posed as a tenant to investigate D?ng’s villa. The neighbors say five years ago, his family kicked Trang out with absolutely nothing.”

  – “The reason? His wife, M? Linh, accused Trang of stealing a diamond ring. But after she was already thrown out, it turned out their second daughter, Anh Th?, had sold the ring to fund her partying.”

  When Trung hung up, he looked over at Thi?n with a puzzled expression.

  – “Isn’t it strange, Thi?n? Trang’s parents were successful entrepreneurs. There should’ve been inheritance left behind. But she ended up on the streets with nothing.”

  Thi?n’s gaze turned heavy:

  – “It’s all being exposed, piece by piece. That bastard D?ng and his family stole her rightful inheritance. I need to send all this to Master V?nh and Master Trúc Di?n immediately.”

  He typed quickly and attached a full dossier:

  – “I’ve compiled all connections and relevant parties in this email. If more digging is needed, please let me know.”

  Meanwhile, in their townhouse in District 3, Master V?nh and Trúc Di?n had just finished dinner. While clearing the table, Master V?nh’s phone lit up with a message. They opened the email together.

  After one glance, Master V?nh furrowed his brows. His voice dropped, heavy with regret:

  – “We… may have helped the wrong people. That D?ng family and the girl My — rotten at the core, sugar-coated on the outside.”

  Trúc Di?n set his bowl down, his tone suddenly colder:

  – “According to what Thi?n uncovered, D?ng and his clan took every last cent of Trang’s inheritance. Which means... the accident back then might not have been so innocent.”

  Master V?nh’s eyes flared like a lighthouse in a storm:

  – “If your suspicion is correct… then someone orchestrated the crash. They murdered an entire family — for money.”

  Trúc Di?n clenched his fist, his emerald pupils narrowing into vertical slits, glowing like a serpent’s:

  – “Then it’s decided. As a thousand-year-old white serpent, I’ll personally make them taste justice.”

  A black Bentley Bentayga and a Cadillac glided smoothly over the cobblestone path, pulling up before the towering Gothic mansion in District 2. A warm amber light from the gate’s stone lanterns cast a soft glow upon the royal Black Diamond crest, bathing the entire scene in an air of mystery and power.

  The demon sentinels stationed at the front quickly stepped out to open the gate. One of them, cheeky as ever, glanced at Erion and then at Trang, who had just stepped down from the car, flanked by her two royal Satanic guards.

  – “She’s finally here... The General has been dying to meet her since back at headquarters in ?à L?t.”

  The words shot through the previously calm atmosphere like a spark in dry grass. Everyone fell silent. Erion’s eyes widened, rage flaring—but oddly, his face flushed red like a drunken dragon caught in the act.

  – “You fools… Talking too damn much! Who told you to spill everything?!”

  Din smirked and nudged Yin’s sleeve, his voice low but perfectly audible:

  – “He basically confessed, didn’t he?”

  Yin faked a cough, trying hard not to laugh, while Trang stood to the side with her arms crossed, her eyes cool as ice, though the corner of her lips curved upward in mischievous delight.

  Just then, a chorus of screams shattered the night — from across the street, at C?u D?ng’s mansion. The voices of Anh ?ào and M? Linh tore through the silence like banshees, as if dragging echoes from the underworld itself.

  Yin tilted his head toward the chaos, eyes narrowing with ancient wisdom that seemed to cut through even the thickest wards:

  – “Let’s head to the rooftop. The view’s much clearer up there.”

  Immediately, the little demons and royal guards sprang into action — hauling snacks, bubble tea, flan cups, and buttery popcorn up to the Gothic rooftop, which now doubled as an observation deck and unofficial drama-viewing arena for creatures of the dark.

  ---

  Meanwhile, at the main headquarters in Bình Chánh, the control room was thick with a dangerous sort of excitement.

  Satan stood silently behind the command desk. His eyes — cold as the ice of hell — betrayed nothing, though his voice was soft, almost tender:

  – “So I’m not the only one now... Looks like Erion and the White Serpent have joined in.”

  – “This... is going to be one hell of a show.”

  Behind him, the old Grand Mistress calmly sipped her Thái Nguyên jasmine tea. Her black phoenix fan fluttered lazily at her side.

  – “In my humble opinion, she said gently, “you’re about to gain... new allies, my Lord.”

  Arian, arms folded, sat beside a contemplative H?ng Nhung. His voice, when it came, was quiet — yet every word fell like a dagger upon the skies of Saigon:

  – “Those arrogant elites... need a lesson. One that turns them into examples.”

  Satan's voice drifted like a northern wind—icy and unrelenting:

  – “I’ve already gifted my daughter a newer version of the Velkhanis Mirror. Stronger. Harsher. Crueler. And now, with two more powers in play...”

  – “Those elites... are about to cry in a whole new language.”

  Behind him, the elite agents of the Satanic royal guard allowed themselves faint, crooked smiles. They were all waiting — for the reckoning to begin.

  The rooftop of the Gothic mansion — perched atop the highest floor of the postmodern Gothic structure — offered a skewed view directly overlooking D?ng’s villa across the street. The space was designed like a miniature hanging garden: Vines of purple grapes curled around ancient stone columns, black orchids clung to gothic arches, and floating glass lanterns bathed the scene in a warm, dreamy light. A U-shaped black velvet sofa wrapped around a long marble table.

  At the center sat an enticing spread of snacks: crispy potato chips, mochi cakes, mugwort pastries, cheese-shaken fried chicken, and an array of bubble tea flavors.

  Din, legs crossed, casually munched on a chip, eyes fixed on the floating hologram screen projected above the table:

  – “It's rare to get a front-row seat to a live soap opera like this. I’m not missing a single episode.”

  Yin popped open a soda can and turned to Erion:

  – “We should use satellite footage and archive this. Edit the highlights later for those who want a rerun.”

  Erion leaned against the wrought-iron railing, squinting at D?ng’s front gate, his voice gravelly and deep:

  – “Oh, there’s plenty more drama coming. Not just this house—My’s entire family is about to take center stage.”

  ---

  Outside the gate of D?ng’s villa, neighbors were still gathered, gossiping in hushed voices, when a souped-up silver-gray 16-seater van suddenly screeched into view, blaring its horn. The commotion startled everyone.

  The van doors slammed open. Five thugs stepped out — covered in tattoos, faces rough, thick chains hanging like bike locks around their necks.

  – “Where the hell is Th??! When’s she gonna pay us back?! Think we wouldn’t track her down here?!” – the bald one roared, his voice cutting through the crowd.

  Dì T? rushed out from the house, trembling behind the iron gate:

  – “W-who are you? Why are you causing a scene at someone’s home like this?”

  The bald thug slammed a hand on the gate and glared:

  – “Th? — D?ng’s daughter — owes us a pile. Now she’s vanished, blocked our numbers. Get her out here to pay up, or else…”

  C?u D?ng stumbled outside, face pale, voice shaky:

  – “Gentlemen… let’s talk calmly. How much does she owe you?”

  The bald man stepped back, exhaled smoke straight into D?ng’s face:

  – “Principal plus interest… Five billion. Three days. No pay, no mercy.”

  The air thickened with tension. Just then, Anh Tú arrived, raising a hand to de-escalate:

  – “My wife’s family is going through a lot. Please... give them a little time.”

  The bald man curled his lip into a smirk:

  – “Smart kid. You’ve got one week. No payment… expect serious trouble.”

  ---

  Back on the Gothic rooftop, the entire scene played out through sniper-grade lenses and the floating holo display.

  Yin frowned slightly, sipping his mint bubble tea:

  – “As if hallucinations weren’t enough... now we’ve got loan sharks. Karma’s coming in waves.”

  Din shook his head and popped another crispy chip into his mouth:

  – “Satan Studios, in co-production with the universe’s top directors — delivering raw drama, real performances, actors so good they forget they’re acting.”

  The little demons and royal guards whispered, barely holding back laughter:

  – “So, who’s winning Best Actor tonight?”

  – “Let me guess — whoever screams and panics the most.”

  Trang leaned back into the velvet sofa, her crimson eyes gleaming with cold fire. Her voice was soft as wind but laced with ancient frost:

  – “They pushed me to the bottom of society once… It’s time they tasted what that feels like.”

  Erion glanced sideways at her, his gaze veiled in something deeper — perhaps longing. Perhaps fate.

  Whatever it was, it shimmered like the final note of a song written in the stars.