Kane immediately lunged forward, snatching the sewing needle from the woman's hand before quickly removing his belt to bind her hands tightly. The young man followed suit, tying her feet to prevent any further horrific acts of self-mutilation. The woman in the purple suit continued to convulse, her eyes rolled back, signaling for help in utter desperation.

  Nicolas scanned the surroundings, his voice harsh and filled with anxiety:

  – “Help me get her into the car! Hurry! We cannot let humans discover this anomaly!”

  As the car door slammed shut, the woman in the red dress sat beside her comrade to provide support. She remained in shock, her spirit beginning to crumble:

  – “What do we do? Can anyone think of a way to save her?”

  Inside the car, the young man did not answer. He grimly pulled out a small knife, its blade as thin as a thread yet so cold it reflected light like a mourning white shroud. He whispered an incantation, and spiritual characters crawled like hazy smoke along the spine of the blade, causing the metal to emit a pale blue light and vibrate violently, as if resonating with an invisible energy source.

  This was the Cutting the Strings technique — the ultimate counter to Puppetry. With a flick of his wrist, the blade slashed a brutal horizontal line through the air, aiming directly at the spiritual puppet strings tightening around the target.

  However…

  CLANG!

  A piercing sound rang out, as sharp as metal striking ancient steel. In the empty void, sparks of spiritual energy flew in all directions, and a shockwave rippled through the air, causing the surroundings to tremble violently. The puppet strings remained steadfast, without a single scratch. They vibrated slightly, as if mocking the demon's futility.

  The young man's pupils contracted, his hand holding the knife trembling uncontrollably as his voice cracked:

  – “How is this possible... Why won't they break? The one we are facing... isn't just one person!”

  ***

  On the peak of Fansipan, Master V?nh stood tall amidst the center of Lita's lightning storm. His long robes fluttered in the gale, yet his body remained as motionless as an eternal stone pillar.

  The Seven-Star Dragon Spring Sword rested firmly in his right hand, gleaming with majestic coldness. He began to move in the Yu Bu (Great Bear) footwork — each step stomping onto the ground according to a mystical trajectory, shifting rhythmically into the eight positions of the Bagua mirror he had previously set.

  The spiritual aura around him began to converge into an opaque white vortex. With a deep, settling breath, he dropped his weight into a crouch; his left hand formed the Taiji Seal while his right hand held the sword upright, the tip piercing the center of the Bagua mirror.

  BOOM!

  A fierce golden light erupted from the point of contact, spreading in brilliant circular ripples across the ground. From the center, two currents of Yin and Yang energy spiraled, weaving together into a massive Taiji diagram. The Taiji map moved slowly like a breathing entity before suddenly rising to form a shimmering, golden hemispherical barrier.

  This solid and tranquil Guardian Shield completely blocked all long-range attacks, turning the Demon King’s entire area into a zone of “absolute safety”.

  ***

  Back at the rest stop, the young man was still exerting all his strength to perform the Cutting the Strings technique. The spiritual blade repeatedly slashed through the air, but the invisible puppet strings remained as unyielding as cold steel. The space around the cutting edge felt locked by some immense power, breaking every effort he made.

  The young demon's face gradually turned pale, his breath coming in short gasps. He spoke hoarsely in total shock:

  – “Why is the technique failing... Someone is intervening from afar... Someone extremely powerful has sealed off my entire spiritual energy!”

  Kane looked outside the car, his expression becoming urgent:

  – “We need to get out of here quickly; the humans are starting to notice.”

  Nicolas kept a firm grip on the bound hands of the woman in the purple suit, his voice giving a decisive command:

  – “Drive, Grimm. Get us out of here first, then we’ll figure it out.”

  The two BMWs quickly followed each other out of the rest stop. Inside the car, the woman’s body remained locked in a distorted posture, like a wooden puppet pinned at every joint.

  But inside that immobile shell, her mind was in total chaos.

  Her breath came in ragged gasps within her chest, and her consciousness was fully awake — and that was the most horrific part. She felt every movement of her own body as it disobeyed her will, yet she could not reclaim so much as a fingertip.

  Her eyes were wide, darting from one person to another with a trembling, desperate gaze. She tried to plead with her eyes, tried to signal, tried to beg… but it was all in vain.

  No words. No resistance.

  Only the fear of being imprisoned within her own flesh.

  Suddenly, her bound hands buckled with immense force. A terrifying pulling strength surged, forcing Nicolas — despite being a man of great stature — to strain until he trembled, barely able to hold on.

  The woman in the red dress cried out in terror:

  – “How does she possess such incredible strength?”

  The man in the ash-grey suit gritted his teeth, hissing each word:

  – “This Puppetry technique is a forbidden art of high-tier entities. Lowly petty demons have absolutely no right to touch it.”

  Grimm, focusing on maneuvering the steering wheel, mused thoughtfully:

  – “The supreme powers present on Earth right now could only be the factions of Demon King Satan, Count Din, or the tycoon Yin. But I’ve heard whispers that even General Erion has set foot here.”

  Nicolas couldn't suppress a cold shiver:

  – “What? Since when? Could the one behind this be him?”

  Grimm shook his head slightly, his face deep in thought:

  – “Erion’s abilities lean toward manipulating space and time, and destroying all things with black flames. Puppetry is not his specialty.”

  Nicolas roared in resentment:

  – “Then who is it? Who is plotting to toy with us?”

  At that moment, a name suddenly flashed through the mind of the woman in the red dress. Her face turned as pale as a ghost, cold sweat beading on her forehead, her lips trembling, unable to speak:

  – “There is only one demon... the one dubbed the master of the art of puppetry... It can only be her.”

  ***

  On the windswept mountain peak, the Grand Madam Advisor slowly raised her gaunt hand before her. Her gaze was focused and enchanted, like a great artist standing behind the velvet curtain of a puppet stage.

  The threads of spiritual energy, as thin as spider silk, extended from her fingertips, vibrating rhythmically in the air.

  Her thumb rotated slightly. Her pinky dropped exactly half a centimeter.

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  Each tiny movement reached a level of sophisticated precision — no different from a master puppet player tuning his strings before the curtain rises.

  The moment she slightly curled her index finger…

  A thread immediately snapped taut, emitting a somber hum like a grand organ string being perfectly tuned.

  The corners of her lips curled into a mocking smile:

  – “Those weaklings... how could they hope to resist with their pathetic physical strength?”

  On the other side, Demon King Satan was still leisurely enjoying the smoked buffalo meat with the agents, his demeanor as relaxed as if he were watching a pleasant play:

  – “Go easy on them; leave them with just enough strength to crawl all the way here. The moment the goods pass through the space portal… that is when we shall cast the net and haul in the big catch.”

  On the Dark Planet, the midday sun began to grow harsher. Ribbons of deep purple burned smolderingly across the sky, stretching out like unclosed wounds. That ethereal light reflected off the ground, shattering into shimmering streaks like glass — at once magnificent and burdened by a peculiar pressure that seemed to suffocate the air.

  The horse-drawn carriage of Amanda and Victor sat small in the vast courtyard of the Chairman's manor. Inside the living room, the atmosphere was thick with the tension of the upcoming mission. Victor took a long drag of his cigar and exhaled; ash fell scattered upon the floor:

  – “Are we deploying tonight, or do you have another plan?”

  The Chairman sipped his whisky, the amber liquid swirling in his glass:

  – “Nicolas reported that it will take him and his cohorts 40 hours to assemble, followed by the march to Fansipan Peak in Vietnam. That is no short distance.”

  Amanda still could not hide her restlessness, her hands gripping her teacup as if seeking an anchor:

  – “I’m just worried that if there’s a slip-up and we’re discovered...”

  Victor cut her off with a sharp, irritated tone:

  – “Then stay home! Money is about to pour into our pockets and you won't stop grumbling. You're ruining the mood.”

  Amanda looked at her husband, her eyes etched with extreme insecurity:

  – “I am worried for your life and everyone else’s. I know my uncle better than anyone; he has never shown mercy to anyone who dares betray the Royal Family.”

  The Chairman’s wife, sitting nearby, could not suppress a sigh:

  – “I don't know why my spirit is so unsettled this time, I feel an ill omen. You two should bring more troops just to be certain.”

  The Chairman glanced at the butler standing respectfully:

  – “Find a few more high-profile assassins. Money is no object for me.”

  The butler bowed slightly, his voice low and cold:

  – “I know a few notorious fellows at the black market... the kind who, if the price is high enough, will take any life you ask for.”

  Victor mused for a long while before standing up:

  – “The coordinates for the space portal machine are deep in the suburban forest; the path is quite treacherous. Get yourselves ready; we depart tonight.”

  ***

  Back on Earth, on the mist-covered peak of Fansipan. The Taiji Diagram array established by Master Vinh began to vibrate, sparks streaking through the air like invisible blades tearing through the fog.

  Amidst this battlefield atmosphere, Arian and H?ng Nhung were leisurely snacking on Pau Po Cu (corn cakes). The gentle sweetness of pureed young corn, blended with the fragrance of banana leaves roasted over glowing red coals, created a signature highland flavor. Arian held a steaming cake, blowing on it while letting out a faint smirk:

  – “Is that fellow still stubbornly using the Cutting the Strings technique? Don't blame us for not warning you; you brought this trouble on yourselves.”

  The Grand Madam Advisor calmly continued to manipulate her puppet threads, the corners of her lips curling with arrogance:

  – “Weak and yet so bold. Trying to pick a fight with us with such unrefined skills — how laughable.”

  Demon King Satan took a slow sip of Docynia apple tea. The tart, sweet, and slightly bitter notes of the dried fruit settled on his tongue. He set the teacup down, his demeanor composed:

  – “Just toy with them a little longer. It’s almost dawn; we’ll head down the mountain and take a stroll around Sapa town.”

  Hearing this, the agents broke into excited cheers:

  – “We’ve heard Sapa is beautiful, with endless terraced fields and amazing food!”

  Satan laughed, his deep, resonant voice echoing across the summit:

  – “Since we've come all this way, I want to see for myself if that beauty is truly worthy of the rumors.”

  The two BMWs continued to glide along the highway, appearing from the outside like an ordinary group of tourists amidst the flowing traffic. However, in stark contrast to that outward stillness, the interior of the car was a scene of suffocating chaos. The body of the woman in the purple suit convulsed continuously, torn and pulled violently like a puppet being driven mad by invisible strings.

  The young man beside her was exhausting his remaining strength to perform the Cutting the Strings technique, hoping to find a gap to sever the soul-threads. Yet, his eyes slowly filled with helplessness as every slash he unleashed fell into the void. He panted heavily, sweat pouring down his face:

  – “There is an incredibly powerful guardian shield... blocking all my moves. Every effort is futile; I cannot even touch them!”

  The man in the ash-grey suit gritted his teeth, pulling out the map from earlier and spreading it across his lap, his eyes flashing with fierce determination:

  – “Let me use the Heaven-Earth Geomantic Sand Table again; we will launch a preemptive strike from above!”

  ***

  Meanwhile, atop Fansipan, the sky still bore the remnants of the storm summoned by Lita. H?ng Nhung had just taken a sip of hot tea, but before the warmth could spread, she froze as pure white snowflakes began to drift lazily before her eyes. She looked up at the vast canopy of the sky and exclaimed in surprise:

  – “Snow? How can there be snow on Fansipan in the middle of autumn?”

  Demon King Satan also looked up thoughtfully. He took a deep breath, feeling the chilling air seep into his lungs, and remarked in a deep voice:

  – “There is something wrong with this snow. This cold is not the work of nature.”

  The traces of the previous storm still hung suspended, but now, the wind began to rise in frantic gusts. The snowfall grew heavier by the second, transforming from tiny mist-like particles into large swirling masses in the air. The freezing cold spread with terrifying speed, piercing through layers of clothing and stinging the skin like knife cuts.

  The temperature plummeted uncontrollably, and a thin, slippery layer of ice began to coat the ground. The atmosphere became heavy and dense, as if being squeezed. The wind shrieked in long, melancholic wails, whipping white ribbons of snow into deadly vortexes, creating a somber and surreal landscape where the order of heaven and earth was bent by the power of dark sorcery.

  ***

  Outside the homestay at the foot of the mountain, the little demons, who had been boisterously enjoying grilled milk tea, suddenly dropped their cups and screamed in terror:

  – “Masters, look! On the mountain peak... snow is falling!”

  All eyes immediately turned toward the distant, hazy summit. Erion curled his lip, his gaze as cold as ice:

  – “It’s not just snow; it’s about to turn into a destructive blizzard.”

  Trúc Di?n could not hide his anxiety, his face etched with unease:

  – “I wonder if everyone and Lita up there are alright...”

  In contrast to Trúc Di?n’s frantic worry, Din continued to observe with a strangely leisurely demeanor, his eyes narrowing slightly:

  – “Steady yourselves; the best part of the play is about to begin.”

  Hearing this, Trúc Di?n turned to him, frustrated:

  – “Aren't you worried about them even a little bit?”

  Din remained calm, his eyes never leaving the summit as it was swallowed by the blizzard, a mysterious smile playing on his lips:

  – “Oh, I am worried... but only for the lives of those lowly petty demons.”

  On the peak of Fansipan, Demon King Satan maintained a terrifyingly calm composure amidst the encircling storm. He was savoring a feast of Bamboo-tube rice and highland specialties right at the heart of the blizzard. Vibrant green bamboo tubes leaned over the glowing charcoal, their charred husks beginning to ooze a gentle, fragrant sap. As the bamboo outer layer was peeled away, the pure white sticky rice emerged behind a paper-thin membrane, each glossy grain saturated with the clean essence of bamboo water and the signature woodsmoke aroma of the mountains.

  Suddenly, from the heart of the chaotic storm, thousands — tens of thousands — of snow crystals lost their soft forms. They crystallized into sharp, glass-like daggers, plunging simultaneously with terrifying speed. They streaked through the air, shredding the space apart, bombarding Demon King Satan’s position. The sound of the wind being torn apart shrieked piercingly, promising utter destruction.

  However, just meters above Satan’s head, a magnificent scene unfolded.

  CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

  The sounds of harsh collisions rang out incessantly, sharp as metal striking ancient steel. Those razor-sharp glass daggers slammed into Master V?nh's shimmering golden Taiji Diagram barrier, shattering into countless glittering shards that sprayed outward like a failed rain of diamonds. The Taiji array stood firm; the currents of Yin and Yang spiraled slowly, absorbing and completely neutralizing the horrific force of the attack, creating a radius of “Absolute Safety”.

  Beneath that fortress-like protective veil, Demon King Satan remained eerily unperturbed. He leisurely peeled a tube of rice, the steam rising and lingering in the freezing air. Beside him sat a plate of Grilled free-range pork — its skin charred and perfectly crispy, the succulent, fatty meat emitting a rich aroma that stood in total defiance of the chaos occurring directly above.

  He placed a piece of rice in his mouth, slowly savoring the sweet taste infused from the young bamboo, then glanced toward Arian:

  – “Deal with it, my son. The food is delicious, but the howling of this blizzard is starting to ruin my appetite.”

  Arian stood up, his tall, slender yet steady silhouette walking slowly toward the eye of the storm where the snow-wind was tearing through the void. His ice-blue eyes suddenly ignited, his gaze cold and still like a lake frozen for a thousand years. With his left hand tucked royally behind his back, he reached his right hand toward the heavens, his palm open as if commanding winter itself to awaken.

  Tiny snowflakes began to converge, hovering and spiraling around Arian’s palm. They spun faster and faster, creating a miniature crystal cyclone shrieking in the air. From the center of the vortex, the structure of a divine scepter began to crystallize. The shaft appeared as transparent as a block of oceanic crystal, containing natural ice veins that shifted constantly like frozen water flowing backward into eternity.

  As Arian tightened his grip, the scepter fully revealed itself in a surge of azure light. The head of the scepter was a massive six-pointed snowflake carved from a solid block of white diamond, each point a cold, sharp blade reflecting light into silver rays as stinging as needles. That diamond snowflake hovered, rotating around the center of the scepter via pure magic; each rotation produced the sharp, metallic screech of clashing steel.

  Surrounding the diamond core were ice icicles growing from the shaft, curving gracefully upward like the crown of a winter prince. It was a weapon of breathtaking beauty, possessing an aura of regal elegance but brimming with lethality amidst the roaring storm.

  Arian looked up at the frantic heart of the blizzard above, a cold smile playing on his lips:

  – “Coming to provoke us again? You simply do not know when to stop, and that... is your greatest mistake.”