The jet-black Bentley glided smoothly down the street bathed in golden lamplight, like a noble shadow separated from the mundane world. Erion sat in the front passenger seat, eyes sharp enough to kill, face scrunched like a deflated bun. At the wheel, Din was laughing his head off.

  – “You’re not exactly sweet or romantic, General. No wonder she’s not into you. Girls like gentleness and subtlety, you know? But you? You're always so intense…”

  From the backseat, Master V?nh nodded solemnly:

  – “Exactly. Trúc Di?n is different. Calm, refined, speaks softly. No wonder he’s scoring full marks with Princess Trang.”

  Yin shook his head and delivered the finishing blow:

  – “You really need to change how you interact. You act like you’re in a war council, not a conversation with a woman. Keep that up, and you’ll be single for the next thousand years — at least.”

  Erion glared at everyone in the car, but they all burst out laughing at his expression that screamed, “I’m suffering through this.”

  – “So what am I supposed to do, huh? Why is this so hard?”

  Din gave a dry chuckle, shaking his head:

  – “Start by softening your tone — make it warmer, gentler. Let your gaze be kind and thoughtful. And smile a bit, for heaven’s sake. You always look like you're about to punch someone.”

  Master V?nh chimed in again from the back:

  – “Your current communication style only works on the battlefield. Act like that with women and you’ve already lost.”

  Love was something Erion had never known. In over a thousand years, he had never experienced this kind of emotional turmoil. It was a daunting challenge.

  Behind them, the sleek black Cadillac silently followed. In the back seat sat Trúc Di?n and Trang, quiet amidst the peaceful ride.

  Trang glanced at the car ahead, her voice soft but cutting:

  – “That Erion is too rough. A man talking to a woman should at least have some finesse. He looks like a stone statue — can’t even manage a smile. I really can’t stand guys like him.”

  Trúc Di?n gave a slight smile, his gaze drifting toward the Bentley ahead — though behind his calm demeanor was a thoughtful depth.

  – “He spent a thousand years imprisoned in the Infernal Abyss, and yet… he’s still the same. Change won’t come easy.”

  The bodyguard in the front passenger seat added:

  – “Unless he changes himself. But honestly… that seems unlikely.”

  The driver laughed aloud:

  – “A thousand years and nothing’s changed? Might need a few more millennia!”

  Laughter echoed through the car, lightening the mood.

  Further behind, another Bentley carried Erion’s demon underlings. The entire bunch were sprawled out in laughter.

  – “In terms of finesse, our General’s miles behind Serpent King Trúc Di?n,” one demon remarked.

  – “For real! The way he talks to women—feels like he’s giving orders at a war council,” another added.

  A curly-haired demon clutched his belly:

  – “The General’s face always looks like he lost his food ration book — so grumpy all the time. We can’t even enjoy our meals. The food at the Bình Chánh command base tastes way better!”

  They all howled with laughter, shaking the entire car.

  The convoy rolled through the night streets like a blend of royal parade and comedy film—foreshadowing a night full of unprecedented events.

  Night had fallen over the dazzling city of Saigon. Neon signs blinked like stars, headlights from endless streams of vehicles sparkled, and the whole city seemed bathed in the glow of an urban Milky Way — creating a vibrant, bustling atmosphere. Three luxury cars pulled up beside a grand hotel in District 1. One by one, the passengers stepped out, blending into the lively crowd along Nguy?n Hu? Walking Street — a colorful, buzzing hub of nightlife.

  Trúc Di?n and Trang walked side by side, chatting and laughing like old friends. All other eyes, however, kept sneaking glances at Erion—who trailed behind with a face so sour, you'd think he’d accidentally bitten into a ghost pepper.

  Master V?nh leaned over and muttered meaningfully:

  – “You should do something already. Why so silent?”

  Din doubled over with laughter:

  – “Look at his face! He’s so tense, it’s like Cao Cao is chasing him down!”

  Erion’s little demon subordinates added their playful jabs:

  – “C’mon, General! You look like a Hollywood actor — why aren't you using your looks to your advantage?”

  Yin looked up toward the skyscrapers lighting the skyline:

  – “Let’s grab coffee up there later. The view of Saigon at night is stunning.”

  Trang had already walked a few steps ahead. She turned around, her smile as radiant as the city lights:

  – “Don’t forget to grab some street snacks, everyone! Gotta stock up for the midnight feast!”

  Trúc Di?n glanced at Erion and smirked:

  – “What’s with the permanent scowl? No one’s done anything to you.”

  Inside, Erion felt like dark flames were freezing over—his mood was that conflicted.

  – “Whatever... I’m always the outsider anyway…”

  Trang, cheeky as ever, winked and called out while walking:

  – “Didn’t someone once say, ‘I’d rather stay single forever than marry you’? Regretting that now, huh?”

  Laughter erupted, echoing down the street. Passersby stopped in their tracks, stunned by what they were seeing — this group looked too flawless to be real.

  Din carried the poise of a proper British noble.

  Yin had the refined, delicate charm of East Asian beauty.

  Trang looked like a Latin supermodel—sun-kissed skin, hourglass figure, utterly captivating.

  Trúc Di?n was the very image of a historical drama heartthrob — elegant, mysterious.

  Erion, even with his grumpy scowl, looked like a war god — chiseled muscles, sharp masculine features that turned heads.

  All eyes followed their every move. But the group didn’t seem to care — they were enjoying the electric night air of Saigon, soaking in the vibe.

  Everything about this night... felt extraordinary.

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  At night, Nguy?n Hu? Walking Street shimmered like a river of lights flowing through the heart of Saigon. LED panels changed colors in mesmerizing patterns while crowds bustled through, laughter and chatter filling the air. For the little demon followers, this was their first time strolling this vibrant boulevard alongside their masters. Their wide eyes and gaping mouths betrayed how dazzled they were by the lively scene.

  Under the warm golden glow of the streetlamps, the sea of people ebbed and flowed. One curious demonling tilted its head at a sign and asked:

  – “Why is this street named Nguy?n Hu?? Who was he?”

  Master V?nh chuckled warmly, hands folded behind his back as he walked leisurely. His voice carried the calm gravity of one who had lived long and seen much:

  – “Nguy?n Hu? was one of Vietnam’s greatest national heroes. He defeated not one, but two imperial powers of his time—Siam and Qing.”

  He paused for a moment, then continued in a reverent tone, his gaze almost reaching through the threads of time:

  – “At the end of 1788, upon learning that 290,000 Qing soldiers had invaded Th?ng Long, Nguy?n Hu? proclaimed himself emperor under the name Quang Trung. He led his army north at lightning speed.”

  The evening breeze rustled the trees along the boulevard, and his voice lowered like a tale whispered by ancestors:

  – “In just five days during the Lunar New Year of 1789, he annihilated the entire invading force in the legendary Battle of Ng?c H?i – ??ng ?a. It was a victory still remembered with pride by generations of Vietnamese.”

  The demonlings’ eyes grew even rounder.

  – “So... the street’s named after him to honor his legacy?”

  Master V?nh nodded solemnly, his eyes glowing with deep pride:

  – “Yes. This street isn’t just a tribute to Nguy?n Hu? — Emperor Quang Trung — but a reminder to all Vietnamese of their ancestors’ unbreakable spirit in defending their homeland.”

  For a moment, the demonlings fell silent. Then they whispered among themselves, their voices tinged with admiration.

  – “So Vietnam had such powerful heroes too…”

  One bowed respectfully:

  – “The name ‘Nguy?n Hu?’... it sounds both strong and elegant.”

  Another softly added:

  – “To have the most beautiful street in Saigon named after him... truly fitting.”

  Master V?nh smiled, his voice gentle like a lullaby from the earth itself:

  – “He wasn’t just a hero. He embodied wisdom, patriotism, and the unyielding desire for self-reliance that defines the Vietnamese spirit.”

  After that heartfelt moment, the group continued walking. Yin pointed to a tall building where warm lights spilled from the rooftop terrace.

  – “Let’s go up there!”

  Everyone eagerly nodded in agreement. The rooftop café had a vintage style — open air with black wrought-iron railings and tiny potted flowers hanging from the edge. The furniture was dark mahogany, with tables crafted from antique sewing machines or faded marble slabs. Thick ropes suspended soft yellow lights overhead, casting a nostalgic glow across the space — like stepping back into the 1960s.

  Classic French tunes drifted through the air, creating a mellow ambiance. After ordering drinks, everyone turned toward the panoramic view of the city. Leaning against the railing, Trang’s voice carried a quiet echo of the past:

  – “I’ve never been up here before. Back then, around this time at night, I’d ride my old 50cc Cub and stop somewhere down below, just sitting on the sidewalk or a stone bench… staring up at places like this. Money was tight, so I could only admire from afar.”

  Trúc Di?n tilted his head toward her, his eyes gentle like the Saigon River breeze at night:

  – “Then from now on, whenever you want to come up here — I’ll take you.”

  Erion glanced over, his voice still gruff but oddly sincere:

  – “Me too. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  Laughter broke out again. The mood warmed. Din clapped Erion on the back, lifted his coffee cup, and teased:

  – “Still talking like you’re in a military briefing, General? You might wanna tone it down for casual conversation.”

  Trang laughed so hard she clutched her stomach. Yin rested her chin on her palm and added:

  – “Change takes time... but only if the General wants to change.”

  The glowing rooftop, the clinking glasses, the gentle music — everything wrapped around them like a cozy family gathering. Despite coming from vastly different backgrounds, they were now one unit, bound not just by duty, but by something far more precious — trust, camaraderie, and the willingness to grow together.

  Within the vintage-style café, the group was enjoying a warm, lively conversation, sipping on coffee and cocktails while soaking in the Saigon night view. Suddenly, Yin’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar group—Tu?n, My, and the two businessmen, Ti?n and Deep. A sly grin curled on his lips.

  – “Well, look who it is. Even here, we can’t seem to avoid them.”

  Everyone instinctively turned toward the bar area, where the uninvited guests were placing their orders. Erion, sipping his cappuccino, raised an eyebrow as he stared at Tu?n’s group.

  – “Looks like we’ll be handing out a few surprises tonight.”

  At the bar, Tu?n and the others were ordering drinks. Deep looked around the space and commented:

  – “This place has a lovely classic ambiance. We should bring My to more places like this—it’s good for her mental well-being.”

  Ti?n was scanning for empty tables when he noticed Master V?nh and Trúc Di?n seated together — with a few foreigners.

  – “Isn’t that Brother Trúc Di?n? Who are they sitting with?”

  The moment My spotted Trúc Di?n, her eyes sparkled with joy. Her smile bloomed like a flower catching sunlight — it was like running into a long-lost crush. Without hesitation, she dashed over, completely ignoring the look on her fiancé Tuan’s face.

  – “You're here too? What a coincidence!”

  Trúc Di?n merely glanced at her and remained silent. The air thickened with awkwardness. Master V?nh quickly stepped in to smooth things over.

  – “We’re showing some international friends around Nguy?n Hu? Walking Street. They’re visiting Vietnam for a short trip.”

  My’s group paused, momentarily stunned. They didn’t recognize Trang — her appearance had completely transformed. But even more shocking were the three figures beside her: Din, Erion, and Yin. Each exuded an air of nobility, carrying themselves with a commanding presence that made everyone else seem dim in comparison.

  Tu?n stared at Trang, his eyes filled with surprise. Her beauty was nothing like the pampered socialites he was used to — no pale, fragile frame, no excessive makeup or flashy clothes.

  Instead, she radiated strength and vitality—skin bronzed by the sun, a toned and athletic build, and a wild, untamed beauty that was both raw and captivating. He didn’t realize she was the same tomboyish girl who once harbored a crush on him, the same girl he had dismissed due to her modest background.

  Erion’s expression darkened as he noticed the lingering way Tu?n was staring at Trang. His voice cut through the tension — blunt, slightly irritated:

  – “We’ve been here long enough. Master V?nh, let’s head somewhere else.”

  Master V?nh caught the cue and rose with a pleasant smile.

  – “Alright, time to head to the shopping center.”

  Yin moved with effortless grace, the very image of Qing-dynasty aristocracy. His presence eclipsed even Tu?n’s as he passed — each step a picture of regal composure. Deep and Ti?n unconsciously stepped back to make way.

  – “Let’s go. We still have preparations to make for tonight’s gathering.”

  My’s eyes clung to Trúc Di?n as she spoke softly:

  – “If you and Master V?nh ever have time, please come to our house for dinner. Last time you visited, we didn’t get a chance to properly host you.”

  Din cut in curtly:

  – “Let’s move. We’ve got work to do.”

  With that, the masters, their demonlings, and the covert agents quickly exited the stifling room. They headed back to their hotel, got in their vehicles, and made their way to a more open, refreshing location.

  Two luxury cars — Bentleys, a Cadillac and an Innova — pulled up in front of a high-end restaurant owned by Yin, specializing in Southwestern Vietnamese cuisine. Located in the heart of District 1, the place exuded elegance and tradition. The owners, demonlings, and covert agents were welcomed into a VIP room where a grand 30-seat table awaited them. Soft yellow lanterns woven from bamboo lit the room, and fresh lotus flowers floated gracefully in bronze bowls.

  Yin stood at the entrance, calm and courteous.

  – “This is my restaurant. Tonight, I have the honor of treating everyone to the finest dishes of the Mekong Delta region.”

  Din rested his chin on his hand and tilted his head toward Erion.

  – “We were here last time too, remember? But we didn’t get to eat properly. Someone’s grumpy face made everyone lose their appetite.”

  The whole table burst out laughing. Sitting beside Trúc Di?n, Trang glanced playfully across the table at Erion.

  – “Seriously, can you ever stop frowning? Is smiling physically painful for you?”

  Even Master V?nh chuckled behind his hand.

  – “That face of yours is why women don’t remember you.”

  The demonlings joined in with gleeful teasing:

  – “If he keeps scowling like that, his face will be stuck that way — like a squashed eggplant!”

  Erion’s veins bulged in frustration, his face darkening to a shade of violet — but he managed to stay composed, not wanting to lose face in front of Trúc Di?n.

  – “I’m just thinking… how to punish that other group later tonight.”

  Trúc Di?n let out a quiet laugh, pouring a cup of tea for Trang.

  – “Don’t worry, the plan’s already in motion. For now, let’s enjoy the meal. Even heaven doesn’t interrupt dinnertime.”

  Just then, the servers walked in — dressed in traditional áo Bà Ba with checkered kh?n r?n scarves — carrying large trays of steaming Southwestern dishes:

  Fermented fish hotpot, sour soup with sesbania flowers, stuffed apple snails, clay pot rice, caramelized braised fish, crispy rice with scallion oil, and a medley of steamed vegetables — squash blossoms, winged beans, white cabbage, gourd — served with bubbling kho qu?t (a thick dipping sauce in a clay pot), and both sweet-sour and spicy fish sauces with sliced chilies.

  Yin smiled warmly:

  – “Please, enjoy! This is the pride of our riverland cuisine. If it’s not good, you don’t have to pay!”

  The demonlings’ eyes sparkled, and they audibly gulped as the aroma filled the air.

  – “Oh my god — look at that hotpot! And sour soup too?! We're eating till this table breaks!”

  Trang picked up a stuffed snail and placed it in Erion’s bowl, her smile radiant and full of warmth.

  – “Here, eat this. You've been scowling all night.”

  Erion flushed slightly, caught off guard.

  – “Uh… thanks. You eat too. And… if there's anything you want to buy later for the midnight party… I’ll get it.”

  Everyone’s gaze shifted to Erion. Trúc Di?n smiled and picked up a piece of braised fish, placing it in Trang’s bowl of white rice.

  – “You’re much more approachable like this. When you're always scowling, even I don’t want to talk to you — and I’m a guy.”

  So, the evening continued in high spirits. They all enjoyed the meal together, laughter echoing across the elegant room. Erion, perhaps, had started to change — just a little. He was not the type to accept defeat, especially to Trúc Di?n. Everyone was quietly wondering — what surprises might he bring next?