Jiang Luo used two crown cards to fool everyone at the banquet.
First, he had Lu Youyi and Ge Zhu publicly reveal their roles as masters, so the crowd wouldn’t dare provoke Lu Youyi, a commoner. Then, the two of them each used their status to protect a teammate as their “slave.” Jiang Luo took Lu Youyi’s crown card, while Ge Zhu’s crown card was used among the remaining three people.
The eight of them now appeared to be total strangers, unrelated and unfamiliar. No one would ever think a rich person had exchanged cards with a commoner, or that a rich person would abandon their card for a commoner’s use.
In such a dark, ruthless game, everyone only looked out for themselves. Who had time or reason to care about others—especially complete strangers?
Now, Jiang Luo’s final scheme had succeeded. The crown card in his hand could be passed to someone else.
There were no strict rules on the wall saying it was forbidden—so if it wasn’t explicitly written, that meant it was allowed… right?
The malicious ghost stared at the crown card before him.
The strange sense of incongruity he’d felt earlier was finally lifted, the fog now cleared.
He suddenly understood and thought, Ah, so that’s what this was all about.
So this is where he was waiting for me.
The black-haired young man’s fingers were clean and well-shaped, resting lightly on the jewel tip of the raised crown.
He grinned and said, “I already gave you a choice.”
“But our dear First Mate insists on going his own way,” he shrugged, and said with mock regret, then suddenly clapped his hands, “Your fearless charge forward really fills me with admiration.”
To the surrounding crowd, it sounded more like he was saying “Your stupidity baffles me,” sparking a burst of laughter.
The malicious ghost also began to smile slowly, the corners of his mouth curling high. “Oh no, I think I’m a little scared.”
Though his mouth said “scared,” there wasn’t a hint of fear on his face.
Jiang Luo smiled and tucked the card back into his pocket. Turning around, he said, “Let’s go, Mr. Slave.”
The malicious ghost asked knowingly, “Where to?”
The black-haired youth glanced back at him, dragging out the words, “Obviously—to the performance stage to discipline you—my slave.”
Chi You’s eyes flashed as he gracefully followed.
As they neared the stage, a plump noblewoman in a tight red dress blocked Jiang Luo’s path. Her layers of fat were squeezed into rings by her dress, and she looked hungrily at the tall blond man who had now become a slave. “Sir, sell me your slave—name your price.”
Jiang Luo raised his brows, almost laughing out loud. Stifling a chuckle, he turned and yanked Chi You’s tie, pulling him close. “Madam, you mean him?”
The tie was tugged so hard that his collar loosened, revealing a small patch of taut skin. The noblewoman stared at that bit of exposed collarbone, swallowed, and decisively said, “I’ll offer you seven figures.”
Jiang Luo couldn’t hold back anymore—he burst out laughing, chest shaking and hand trembling as he gripped Chi You’s tie. His hair brushed against the malicious ghost’s pristine white officer uniform like carefully drawn intricate patterns.
“Seven figures? I never thought you were worth that much.”
Chi You didn’t seem to mind the mocking. He gave Jiang Luo a resigned glance, but when he turned to look at the noblewoman, his gaze turned terrifying.
After laughing, Jiang Luo straightened up and started untying Chi You’s tie, like presenting a product. “Madam, allow me to give a detailed introduction to my slave.”
With the tie off, Jiang Luo unbuttoned a few buttons near Chi You’s collar. The man’s alluring Adam’s apple and collarbones were revealed. Jiang Luo’s pale fingers glided across, “Just from here, you can see—this slave’s masculine features are extremely pronounced. Long neck, wide shoulders—absolutely perfect.”
His hand slid downward. “My slave is about 1.9 meters tall. Look at that proportion—he’s among the best here. His muscles are firm, lines defined. Even through clothing, the feel is excellent—clearly someone who doesn’t skip workouts.”
Jiang Luo’s tone carried teasing and amusement, his lips curled in a slight smirk. “See? A truly beautiful little lamb—sure to satisfy all your needs.”
Chi You lowered his head, his gaze dark as he stared at him.
Everywhere Jiang Luo had touched burned like fire.
The black-haired youth continued, “Mmm? Abs are very solid too.”
He introduced the man’s advantages point by point. And even though Chi You remained mostly clothed aside from a slightly disheveled collar, their every move was so charged that onlookers blushed as if they’d witnessed a metaphorical sex scene—breathless, provocative, heart-pounding.
A flush appeared on the noblewoman’s heavily made-up face. Her gaze followed Jiang Luo’s hand, but eventually, she found herself staring at his hand instead.
Those well-defined fingers moved across the man like a dancer. The longer one watched, the more it seemed like being touched by him wasn’t humiliation—but an ultimate pleasure.
Chi You tilted his head slightly, Adam’s apple bobbing, a fine sheen of sweat appearing on his tense neck. At that moment, Jiang Luo withdrew his hand.
“Madam,” the black-haired youth said with a smile, eyes sparkling, “You have excellent taste. For seven figures, taking him off my hands—you definitely won’t regret it.”
The noblewoman blushed even deeper, dazedly replying, “If you like…”
“But I can’t give him to you just yet.”
Jiang Luo cut her off. He wrapped the tie around Chi You’s neck again, asserting his ownership over the malicious ghost, and said with a regretful smile, “If you want him, you’ll have to wait until I’m done playing.”
With that, he tugged on the “leash” and led his slave onto the performance stage.
The noblewoman’s heart pounded wildly. Holding her face in her hands, she watched Jiang Luo in a trance. Compared to the slave, she now found the master even more irresistible.
Chi You said sadly, “Would you really give me to someone else?”
Jiang Luo yanked the “leash” hard. Chi You bent forward, face brushing close.
A man whose heart had already been dyed black curved his lips in a cold smile. His breath was hot and damp on the malicious ghost’s cheek. “Can you make me happier than seven figures?”
In that instant, the shadow beneath Chi You’s feet suddenly writhed, excited and ferocious—but his face remained calm, still cloaked in human expression. He smiled handsomely and said, “Is that all I’m worth to you?”
Jiang Luo gave him a half-smile and turned away to find a waiter.
Soon, a chair was brought to the center of the stage.
Under the spotlight, the tall blond slave was strapped to the seat, leather belts binding his wrists and ankles. Standing behind him, cloaked in shadow, was the black-masked master.
“It’s an honor—the first person to go from a rich man to a slave has been born. That would be Mr. Winston, sitting right before me.”
Jiang Luo put on the black leather gloves handed to him by a servant. Smiling, he used a riding crop to lift the malicious ghost’s chin and feigned surprise, saying, “Oh, right—slaves aren’t allowed to wear masks.”
With a flick of the crop’s handle, the pure white mask on the malicious ghost’s face fell to the floor.
The mask rolled a few times and came to a stop at the edge of the stage.
The malicious ghost squinted slightly under the harsh lights, then slowly opened his eyes, expressionless as he gazed toward the crowd below.
Those deep blue eyes were bottomless, like they held a kind of madness—dark, volatile, like dry tinder smoldering with invisible flames. They stirred not only instinctual fear but also a strange, primal attraction.
From the shadows below, excited murmurs erupted.
In the crowd—
Zhuo Zhongqiu lowered his voice in surprise: “Is Jiang Luo seriously going to train someone?”
Ye Xun looked at the stage, lips pressed together. “He wouldn’t torment someone without reason. There’s something off about that man.”
“I know him,” Ge Zhu said, covering his mouth and glancing around nervously, afraid of being seen mingling with the poor. “He’s trouble. On the first day aboard, he used the excuse of a routine inspection to harass Jiang Luo. Jiang Luo reported him to the captain, but that night, he showed up again and tried to provoke him.”
“No wonder,” Zhuo Zhongqiu nodded knowingly and looked at the man strapped to the chair with disgust. “If it were me, I’d have beaten him so badly he couldn’t get up.”
Wenren Lian remained expressionless. “A man like that—even if Jiang Luo kills him—”
He glanced at Cyril and the others beside him, abruptly cutting himself off. He smiled and said nothing more.
On stage, Jiang Luo raised a gloved finger to his lips and gave a soft “shhh.”
The audience immediately fell silent. The ballroom returned to stillness.
Jiang Luo replaced the riding crop with his gloved hand and slowly traced it along the side of the malicious ghost’s face. “Our dear Mr. Slave here has a very handsome face. He’s also the First Mate of our ship. Looks like someone pampered and privileged. On this ship, his status is second only to the captain—undoubtedly a man of the upper class.”
Chi You responded slowly, “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.” Jiang Luo chuckled.
He rose and casually began to circle the malicious ghost. The riding crop trailed lightly across the malicious ghost’s body. Then, in a low voice meant only for the two of them, he said, “Do you know how many of my deaths I haven’t avenged yet?”
He didn’t wait for a reply.
“Drowning. Burning alive… Oh, and falling from a height.”
“Strictly speaking, the time I dragged you down with me from a high-rise counts as one successful revenge,” Jiang Luo said, “but I wasn’t satisfied. I felt the pain of falling too—and I didn’t even die immediately. That’s on you.”
“Still three to go…”
The malicious ghost looked at Jiang Luo. His gaze was so thick and tangible, it felt like it was stripping Jiang Luo bare. But Jiang Luo didn’t get angry. In fact, he smiled.
That dark and twisted lust radiating from the malicious ghost—at first it had disgusted Jiang Luo, though in secret he felt a flicker of satisfaction. Now, it had turned into a calm, almost playful indulgence.
Devil’s ruthless and hypocritical Chi You had been obsessed with him. Wasn’t that amusing?
At least for now, while the malicious ghost was bound to the chair and he held the whip like a master taming a wild wolf, Jiang Luo found the malicious ghost’s burning yet helpless gaze incredibly enjoyable.
The black-haired youth loved dancing on the knife’s edge. With elegant movements and a flick of his wrist, the whip lightly struck the malicious ghost.
Faint marks bloomed on the malicious ghost’s face, neck, and shirt—barely-there traces of the whip.
Jiang Luo seemed to ignore the malicious ghost’s gaze, but every move he made struck directly at the heart of the malicious ghost’s desire. His red lips curled, and he moved with the grace of a big cat stalking the plains. His hand, glowing faintly like cool jade in the dark, would occasionally flash as another bright-red lash landed.
At last, the malicious ghost spoke, his voice hoarse and low, “When I’m with you, it’s always… different.”
A sharp crack echoed—the next strike was nothing like the previous ones. It tore through the fine fabric of the malicious ghost’s clothing.
His master draped an arm over his shoulder and coldly said, “Did I give you permission to speak?”
“Sorry,” the malicious ghost let out a low laugh. “Just voicing my thoughts.”
“And,” he leaned back into the chair, eyes following the black-haired youth, his tone meaningful, “you should know—this kind of pain means nothing to me.”
He said it with amusement. “Like you mentioned: drowning, burning, falling.”
He knew full well these words would only provoke Jiang Luo further and invite harsher punishment. But Chi You said them anyway—gleefully, mockingly.
Yet Jiang Luo didn’t get angry. Calmly, he looped the whip around Chi You’s neck.
“You’re right,” he said. “But I think you’ve misunderstood something.”
“I don’t kill you because it hurts. I kill you when I feel like it.”
The malicious ghost looked surprised, then nodded seriously. “Fair point.”
“—But I think there’s one kind of pain you haven’t experienced.”
Chi You asked smoothly, “Oh? Like what?”
“Like…”
At some point, the black-haired youth had drawn a knife. With a sudden motion, he drove it down between Chi You’s legs, embedding it in the wooden chair.
The blade grazed dangerously close to his most vital area, gleaming coldly.
“For example—castration.”
