I found it strange—I didn't know this group of people, much less any of their masters, so why had they invited me here for no reason?
I frowned and asked who their master was and why they had brought me here.
They said their master was Mr. Lam, then told me they would show me a video before handing over a cell phone.
The phone looked familiar—it seemed to be Stein's. The person in the video was also Stein, tied to a chair, shouting at the camera, "Little Boss, help!"
Mr. Lam—that damned old man again. He actually dared to kidnap someone in broad daylight. He really had guts. But he wasn't afraid of me calling the police because Stein was still in his hands.
The man was truly despicable. But we'd already dealt with Chloe's corpse fetus—what else could he do? To be honest, I wanted to meet him anyway because he still had those tapes of Chloe. If they leaked online, it wouldn't be good for her. And now that Stein was in his hands, I had no choice but to go.
"Fine, let's go meet your Mr. Lam," I said, following them to the car. We drove straight to a mansion.
This wasn't a place an ordinary person could afford—the yard alone was as big as a soccer field, with a three-story villa, a swimming pool, and other luxuries.
This Mr. Lam was a real tycoon. No wonder Nuwa's Forsaken Shade was willing to work for him.
After entering the villa, someone led me into a room where an old man sat waiting. He wore black clothes and had a long white beard, looking quite dignified as he puffed on a cigar. But no matter how spirited he seemed, an old man was still an old man—it wouldn't be easy for him to have a child.
"You're Roger?" Mr. Lam exhaled a smoke ring, then waved his hand, signaling the others to leave. This old man was so confident—wasn't he afraid I'd attack him? Or did he feel secure because he had Stein?
I didn't bother with small talk. "Where's Stein? And those tapes—hand them over. I have nothing to say to someone like you."
Rich people like him didn't treat others as human beings. They were selfish, pragmatic, and cared only about themselves and their own interests.
"Heh. And why should I?" Mr. Lam sneered, his lips curling into a nasty grin. "You ruined my plans. Believe me, I could have you killed right now, and no one would ever know."
"Then try me." I smirked back, meeting his challenge.
I knew exactly how ruthless this old man was. But if he really wanted me dead, he wouldn't have invited me to his home. There had to be something else he wanted. And of course, I wasn't afraid of death—otherwise, I wouldn't have come in the first place.
If he really wanted to kill me, he wouldn't feel good afterward. If I died, what would happen to the Dai family's ancestral graves? Not to mention others—Daphne would definitely not let him go. If I died, Daphne would have to die too. Our lives were linked together.
That woman was cold and ruthless—I doubted her methods would be gentle. Killing me wouldn't be that easy.
"Haha, good! Truly, heroes are made in youth—fearless enough to brave the dragon's pool and tiger's den. This old man admires that." Mr. Lam burst into laughter, then poured me a glass of red wine, claiming it was from 1982 and urging me to taste it. But I didn't dare drink it—who knew what he might have slipped into it?
Mr. Lam said that, truthfully, he couldn't fully accept the idea of the Lam family's lineage being carried on by something like the Corpse-Fetus—neither human nor ghost, a creature that sounded grotesque. That kind of bloodline… he couldn't bring himself to want it!
I stared at him, silent, even feeling a little amused.
Now that the Corpse-Fetus was gone, he was telling me this? Before, he had fought me tooth and nail, willing to die just to preserve that last trace of his bloodline.
Seeing my reaction, Mr. Lam knew I didn't believe him. He didn't waste time either, cutting straight to the point. He had sent people to investigate my background and discovered that my tattoos were no ordinary ones—they were said to have mystical effects, a form of dark, Yin-related sorcery.
The reason Mr. Lam had summoned me was simple: he wanted to know if there was a tattoo that could allow an aged man like him to father a child.
Women? He had plenty—from eighteen to fifty-eight. The problem was whether he was still capable.
He had gone to the hospital for checkups, and the doctors told him it was impossible—at his age, he shouldn't even entertain the thought. If he truly wanted a child, he'd have to rely on… alternative methods. Such as my Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts.
I wasn't sure if Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts counted as an "alternative method," but I did have one that fit his request—a Guanyin Bestowing Children tattoo, the same one my grandfather had given the village chief's wife.
Bodhisattvas shouldn't be tattooed on people—it defiles their sanctity, and the bearer would face deadly consequences. But this old man? I couldn't wait for him to die. Since he was courting death, I might as well oblige. As for whether the Guanyin Bestowing Children tattoo would actually work… that depended on Mr. Lam's fate.
I told him that such a tattoo did exist—one that could grant him a child. It was called Kwun Yum Sang Sik (Guanyin Grants a Son). However, if I gave him the tattoo, he had to destroy all of Chloe's videotapes and release Stein. And, of course, the fee wouldn't be cheap—I wanted half a million dollars.
The Guanyin Bestowing Children was a Yang-themed tattoo, so it normally wouldn't cost more than $30,000. But this old man had money to burn, and his desperation was palpable. If he couldn't produce an heir, the Lam family line would end with him. At this point, half a million was nothing—he'd probably pay five million if I asked. I was just taking advantage of his desperation.
Mr. Lam waved it off. "These are trivial matters. As long as it works, I agree to all your demands."
Without delay, I proceeded to give him the tattoo. I went back to get my tattoo needles and ink, then worked on him in his bedroom.
The Guanyin Bestowing Children tattoo is typically not done on men—it's usually inked on women, specifically on their stomachs. The effects are actually quite good, though fatal. Tattooing it on a man's body... I wasn't sure what would happen, but it certainly wouldn't be good for this old man.
If he died, whether those videotapes were destroyed or not wouldn't matter—they wouldn't get out either way. I was using the tattoo to kill, and it would be a bloodless method at that.
I felt absolutely no guilt if this kind of person died.
The Guanyin Bestowing Children design isn't too complicated—it took about four hours to complete. After finishing, I suddenly had an idea and decided to give Mr. Lam another "bad suggestion."
I told him that although the Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts feature Bodhisattva imagery, they belong to the Yin category. So if he wanted to conceive a child, he'd better find an Erebus-profiteer—that would yield the best results.
Mr. Lam furrowed his brow as if deep in thought, clearly considering who he should call. Soon his expression relaxed, as if he'd thought of someone. He summoned one of his men and whispered something in the henchman's ear, after which the subordinate left.
When we exited, I saw Nuwa's Forsaken Shade. She appeared severely injured—lying on the sofa, her mouth stained with blood, her broken finger looking particularly gruesome. Instead of going to a hospital, she had come to see Mr. Lam.
Nuwa's Forsaken Shade's face was deathly pale—she'd clearly lost a lot of blood and was badly hurt. Her lips were dry and cracked. She asked Mr. Lam to pour her a glass of water while glaring at me with intense hatred.
"What's this brat doing here, Mr. Lam? Kill him—he's the one who harassed me and broke my finger," Nuwa's Forsaken Shade said viciously.
As she spoke, an underling brought water. Nuwa's Forsaken Shade, probably parched, drank it all in one go. It was then that Mr. Lam revealed an evil smile.
Still unaware of what was happening, Nuwa's Forsaken Shade asked Mr. Lam to call his private doctor to dress her wounds. At that moment, Mr. Lam stared at her like a wolf eyeing its prey.