Perhaps it was due to the immense prestige of the Lu family—
Or perhaps because of the careful training Jude had undergone—
But the "stand-in" soon became the center of attention at the Magic City Manor gathering.
The scions of noble houses circled around him, offering flattery.
Several striking young women, students of Magic City University, even leaned in close, whispering softly, laughing brightly.
Anya, the school beauty, was no exception.
She stole glances at the stand-in again and again, her brows faintly furrowed, her expression unreadable.
[Seeing even Anya paying attention, the other young men present seethed with jealousy.]
Among them, none looked more miserable than Zhao Kun.
Once a proud suitor of Anya, his face now twisted in rage.
But he dared not act rashly.
Not with the Lu family's influence looming over him like a blade.
The atmosphere grew heated, festive on the surface, simmering with undercurrents beneath.
Charles approached quietly.
"Senior Lu," he whispered, sidling up to Grayson—still disguised as Shawn. "Would you like me to arrange something... more fun for you?"
Grayson understood immediately.
[Charles intended to lure you away—to separate you from the "stand-in," making the next phase of their plan easier.]
He smiled faintly, nodded heavily, and agreed.
[You no longer needed to remain at the scene anyway. The real game was about to begin—and you preferred to operate from the shadows.]
Yet a lingering unease gnawed at Grayson's mind.
Anya.
There was something odd about her tonight.
A subtle difference from the Anya he remembered from the previous two simulations.
A slight hesitation.
A faint confusion in her gaze.
He shoved the thought aside for now.
[You leaned close to Jude, whispered a few instructions, and allowed yourself to be led away.]
A luxurious private room awaited him.
Inside, a dozen beautiful young women—each more dazzling than the last—lounged gracefully, awaiting his arrival.
Clearly, Charles had spared no expense.
This was a textbook beauty trap, designed to delay him.
Grayson's face remained impassive.
Without hesitation, he moved like a shadow among them—swift, efficient.
One by one, he knocked them unconscious.
A soft thud.
A delicate gasp.
Silence.
He sealed the door behind him, pulled out a slim talisman—the Communication Talisman—and activated it with a flick of spiritual energy.
The talisman shimmered, carrying his message silently into the night.
[The Communication Talisman was a first-level consumable artifact, perfect for secure contact within a ten-mile radius. You had crafted dozens of them after becoming a first-level Talisman Master.]
Seconds later, Shawn's voice came through.
"Mr. Grayson," came the terse report, "several black-clad figures have appeared outside the Magic City Manor.
Most are at the third stage of Hathi or the fourth level of the Spiritual Power Realm.
The leader... is likely a Saint-level cultivator."
Grayson's eyes sharpened.
[The confirmation left no doubt: the Grierson family was working with the mastermind behind the scenes.]
Their trap had been set the moment he and Jude entered the manor.
And now the killers were in place.
Just like in the second simulation, except this time, Grayson was ready.
[The Saint Realm expert who had attacked you last time—the one who wore a mask—was most likely the old man from the Grierson family.]
There was no more time to waste.
Grayson issued swift orders to Shawn, summoning him to switch identities once more.
[In the coming bloodbath, you would need every advantage—and Shawn, posing as "you," would draw the deadliest attention.]
Moments later, Shawn arrived.
Together, in a hidden alcove, they exchanged places.
Grayson once again invoked his Shadow Mimicry, shifting into the unremarkable appearance of a simple waiter.
The transformation was flawless.
[You marveled at the perfection of the Shadow ability. It had already saved your life countless times.]
Slipping unnoticed into the wine cellar, Grayson pulled out a jade slip.
The Soul Nailing Method.
Now was the time to master it.
[You concluded that the assassins wouldn't act immediately. There was a brief window.]
Seated among dusty barrels and crates, he immersed himself in the cursed art.
The technique was simpler than he expected.
[With any object linked to the target—hair, blood, bone—you could track them.
You could even curse them.]
Of course, the risk was real.
The Soul Nailing Method was infamous for its vicious backlash.
To curse a protagonist like Luke—blessed by destiny—could invite disaster upon the caster.
[You resolved to use it only for tracking.]
An hour passed.
Grayson mastered the basics.
Without delay, he pulled out Luke's severed arm—taken during their brutal fight—and invoked the technique.
Blood seeped from the broken flesh.
It congealed into a fine crimson nail, floating before him.
It pointed... outward.
Toward the manor.
Grayson's gaze sharpened.
"Luke is here."
[You knew instinctively: where chaos brewed, destiny's favored would never be absent.]
BOOM!
An explosion rocked the manor.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Cracks spiderwebbed along the walls.
Grayson shoved the severed arm back into storage and rushed to the doorway.
Outside, chaos had descended.
He saw them immediately:
Shawn—now appearing as "Grayson"—locked in furious battle with a masked Saint.
[The killing game had begun.]
But it wasn't the same as before.
[In the second simulation, the enemy had needed two Saints to hold Shawn at bay.
Now, with only one masked Saint, Shawn quickly gained the upper hand.]
The two titans clashed midair, waves of devastating spiritual force tearing through the manor grounds.
Pillars collapsed.
Guests screamed.
The grand estate crumbled into rubble.
Meanwhile, black-clad assassins stormed toward the VIP room where Jude—Grayson's stand-in—waited.
[In the chaos, Shawn snorted coldly.
Even while fighting, he freed a hand and unleashed a crushing palm strike.]
BOOM!
A blast of force obliterated half the assassins in an instant.
"Anyone who dares attack my Young Master Lu..."
Shawn's voice boomed across the battlefield, filled with lethal intent,
"...will die—no matter who stands behind them!"
The surviving assassins faltered, demoralized.
The tide was turning.
The enemies were faltering.
Victory seemed near.
But Grayson remained calm.
["No," you thought coldly. "The enemy would not invest so much just to lose now.
There must be another move.
A deeper scheme."]
He retreated into the shadows, repeating silently:
"You can't see me."
A technique to mask his presence completely.
Let the killers exhaust themselves against Shawn.
He would watch.
And wait.
Suddenly, another disturbance rippled across the ruined ballroom.
A figure burst into view.
Young.
Lean.
Missing an arm.
Clutching a scarlet blade.
Murderous intent radiated from him like a storm.
"Luke!" someone shouted in shock.
Everyone's eyes snapped toward him.
[They thought Luke had come to assassinate "Grayson."]
But then—
Gasps filled the air.
Luke didn't charge at Jude.
He charged straight at—
Zhao Kun.
In that instant, the gathered nobles froze.
Confusion reigned.
And amid the stunned silence—
Puff!
A jet of blood.
A shadowy hand burst through Jude's chest from behind.
Jude's body stiffened, eyes wide with disbelief.
And the owner of that hand?
The one who had pierced his heart?
Was none other than—
Anya.
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