The flickering lights in the underground holding chamber cast creepy shadows across the iron cages, where dozens of male captives huddled in fear.

The air was thick with the stench of sweat, broken only by the occasional whimper or rattle of chains. Two female guards, clad in their usual thug outfits, leaned against the wall, their batons dangling lazily from their belts. They were bored, their eyes scanning the rows of trembling men like discarded merchandise.

"Did you see that guy they dragged into the VIP room earlier?" one guard, a burly woman with a scar across her cheek named Lila, whispered to her companion. She licked her lips, a hungry gleam in her eyes. "Slightly tall, muscled, face like a damn sculpture. The higher-ups always snag the prime cuts, don't they? Leaving us with these pathetic scraps."

Her partner, a slimmer guard called Mira, snorted and nodded toward the cages. "Yeah, I caught a glimpse. Bet he's packing heat down there too. Jealous as hell. We bust our asses guarding this trash—skinny weaklings who cry at the sight of us—and they get to play with the real prizes. It's not fair. I haven't had a decent lay in months because of shifts like this."

Lila chuckled lowly, crossing her arms. "Tell me about it. These ones here? Half of 'em look like they'd faint if you so much as breathed on 'em. No fight, no fire. But that guy? He looked like he could go all night. Lucky bitches up there are probably riding him senseless right now."

Mira's eyes widened with envy. "Seriously? I overheard one of the servants say he was personally targeted by Lady Qian herself. That's not something that happens often, you know? Usually, she just picks from the auctions like the rest of us. But this one? Nah, he's special. They're not tossing him into a common sale. Bet they're keeping him for private stock—maybe even as a breeder or something. Can you imagine? Getting to break in a stud like that every day?"

Lila shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Crazy, crazy. The things those elites get away with. If I had half their pull, I'd be fucking a premium man like him every fucking day.." She paused as a soft whimper echoed from one of the nearby cages—a scrawny man curled up in the corner, his eyes red from crying.

"Shut up in there!" Lila snarled, grabbing her baton and slamming it against the bars with a resounding clang. The man flinched, his whimpers cutting off abruptly into silence. Lila grinned cruelly, her teeth flashing in the dim light. "That's better. Keep quiet, or I'll come in there and give you something real to cry about."

Mira laughed, high-fiving her. "You're a vicious bitch. These worms need to learn their place."

But just then, the overhead tubelights began to flicker erratically, buzzing like angry insects. The chamber plunged into brief darkness before sputtering back to life. Mira frowned, glancing up. "What the hell? Didn't they replace these tubelights just last week? Maintenance swore they were brand new."

"Yeah, it was recent," Lila replied, squinting at the ceiling. "Probably some cheap wiring. I'll check it out—don't want the bosses blaming us if the power goes out during an inspection." She stepped forward, reaching up toward the flickering fixture, her baton tucked back into her belt.

As she fiddled with the edge of the light, a sharp sting pierced her abdomen—like a bee's sting, but deeper, hotter. Lila gasped, her hand flying to her side. She twisted around, eyes widening in shock, to see Mira standing there with a serene smile on her face, a bloodied knife glinting in her grip.

"You... what the—?" Lila stammered, trying to lunge forward, but Mira was faster. She twisted the blade, stabbing Lila several times in quick succession—chest, stomach, throat. Blood bubbled up as Lila collapsed to the cold floor, her body twitching in its final throes.

Mira pulled the knife free with a wet schlick, wiping the blade clean on Lila's uniform. She muttered to herself, her voice calm and detached. "She sure was chatty. Hope the others are handling their jobs without screwing up." She pocketed the knife and straightened her uniform, blending back into the shadows as if nothing had happened.

Then, a massive boom echoed from the direction of the VIP room— a thunderous crash that shook the walls, sending dust trickling from the ceiling. Mira's head snapped up, confusion etching her features. "What the hell was that? That was rather flashy... looks like something unexpected is going on up there. Better hurry the plan's in motion."

Meanwhile, in the smoke-filled corridors beyond the VIP chamber, Ren staggered forward, his body a battle of agony and desire. The aphrodisiac raged through him like wildfire, every step a torment as his veins throbbed with unnatural heat.

He limped, one hand clutching his side where a splintered wound from the chaos bled sluggishly. Golden threads of Imperial Qi still flickered faintly around him, residual sparks from his outburst, but they were fading, leaving him drained.

"Where... where the hell is my phone?" Ren muttered through gritted teeth, his vision blurring from sweat and pain. He remembered snatching it from his pocket in the taxi earlier—when the driver had started acting weird, swerving into unfamiliar alleys. He'd fired off a quick text to Luxy: "Something's wrong. Track me if I go missing." But in the scuffle that followed, they'd stripped him, tossing his belongings gods-know-where.

He knew help should be coming any moment now—Luxy was resourceful, she probably had power that could track him down. But did she know his exact location? The warehouse was underground, shielded, maybe jammed. "Come on, Luxy... hurry," he whispered, forcing himself to keep moving through the hazy halls.

Up ahead, the sound of pounding footsteps echoed. Ren pressed against the wall, heart racing, and ducked into a shadowed alcove just as a group of women burst into view. They were running toward the VIP room's chaos—smoke billowing from the doorway, screams fading into the distance.

Ren's breath caught. He fully expected them to be Xue's lackeys, reinforcements rushing to capture him. But as he watched from his hiding spot, his eyes narrowed in confusion. These women weren't searching for him; they moved with lethal precision, like predators in a pack. Dressed in unusual black outfits that blended with the guards', they split off silently.

One slipped behind a black-suited woman patrolling the hall, clamping a hand over her mouth and driving a knife into her back. The victim slumped without a sound. Another tackled a pair of guards chatting near a door, garroting one with wire while her partner snapped the other's neck with a brutal twist.

Blood sprayed across the walls as the massacre unfolded—one by one, the black-suited women fell, throats slit, bodies crumpling in silent heaps. The attackers were efficient, ruthless, leaving no survivors in their path.

"Who the hell are these people?" Ren thought, his mind racing despite the fog of the drug. They weren't here for him—that much was clear. No one glanced his way or called out. But if not allies, then who? Rivals? Undercover agents?

Right now, though, it was the least of his concerns. The aphrodisiac clawed at him relentlessly, amplifying every sensation until his skin felt like it was crawling with need. His body screamed for release—anything, anyone. "Gotta... hump something... real fast," he growled under his breath, clenching his fists until his nails drew blood. "Or I'll go insane. Can't think straight..."

Meanwhile, Xue also stormed through the smoke-choked corridors too, her bleeding hand wrapped hastily in a torn strip of silk from her robe. Her heart pounded with fury, but as shouts and clashes echoed from every direction, a nagging unease crept in.

This wasn't right. Ren's Imperial Qi outburst—should have been limited to VIP room. Yet the air of corridors reeked of blood and panic, not just from her side.

"Fucking answer me!" she barked at a trembling servant who darted past, grabbing the woman's arm. The girl yelped, eyes wide with terror. "M-Mistress Xue! It's madness! Our people are dropping like flies—knives in the dark, something in shadows moving too fast!"

Xue shoved her away, snarling. "Useless! Where's Qian? Get her here now!" But as she pushed forward, she froze at the sight ahead: two of her black-suited enforcers lay slumped against the wall, throats slit clean. No sign of Ren's golden threads—just precise, professional kills. "What...?"

A distant scream pierced the haze, followed by the thud of bodies. Xue's mind raced. Ren was drugged, raging, but this? This was calculated. Assassins? Rivals? She ducked into a side alcove as footsteps approached— not her women's heavy boots, but lighter, stealthy ones.

Peering out, she saw it: a group of unfamiliar women in mismatched black gear, not her uniform, systematically taking down her lackeys. One drove a dagger into a guard's back while another covered her mouth. "Clear," the killer whispered. "Search for Lan Xue...she shouldn't leave here alive."

Xue's blood ran cold. Me? Who the hell are these people? This wasn't about Ren anymore. Her eyes narrowed as another boom shook the building, this time from the lower levels. Alarms blared, lights flickering wildly.

"Who the hell is fighting who? Who is here to kill whom? Who are these people?" Xue muttered to herself, pressing against the wall. "This whole building's become one hell of a confusing chaos pit.