Last time, Xiao Yi walked straight into a deadly trap at the slave auction—but blocked it with her Neon like it was nothing. Then, time froze, and her mysterious ring spirit appeared again. Turns out, the creature ahead was something terrifying: the Son of Chaos. After some playful drama, the spirit finally revealed her name—Vexa. With time back in motion, Xiao Yi moved deeper into the shadows, ready for whatever was coming next…
After that, Xiao Yi calmly started walking toward him.
Through the smoke and haze, a boy stepped forward with an easy smirk.
"Look, if I were in your place," he said casually, "I wouldn't have done that."
Suddenly—click.
A spell triggered beneath Xiao Yi's feet. The ground liquefied into thick mud. Her boots sank slightly as she looked down, annoyed.
"Ugh. You ruined my shoes."
The boy raised an eyebrow and grinned.
"Maybe you're strong, but you're just as stupid."
And with a flick of his wrist, a massive fire dragon burst into the space between them. Its roar tore through the silence—flames twisting wildly, its jaws aimed straight at her.
But Xiao Yi didn't move.
She simply whispered—
"Not bad... but not enough."
In a blink, she vanished.
A moment later—crash!
The boy fell from the sky, smashing into the ground. His magical staff clattered beside him as he struggled to sit up, disoriented.
Before he could recover, a black, shadowy hand erupted from the ground below, trying to grab his leg. He barely dodged.
And then—she was behind him.
Xiao Yi's presence was ice-cold, her voice like a whisper carried by frost.
"You're too weak."
A precise strike landed at the back of his neck.
Azenor collapsed.
Some time later…
Zaiken's eyes fluttered open. His vision blurred, breath ragged. He tried to sit up, but a gentle voice stopped him.
"Zaiken, don't get up."
Eliara knelt by his side, worry etched across her face.
His throat was dry as he rasped,
"Eliara… where's Azenor?"
Before she could answer, a new voice sliced into the silence.
Cool. Composed. Commanding.
Zaiken turned—and froze.
There sat Xiao Yi, legs crossed on a wooden chair, calmly sipping tea like she owned the moment.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Why… why is she here?"
Xiao Yi offered a serene smile—charming, but laced with arrogance.
"Is that really your first question? Maybe you should be thanking me—I saved your life."
She placed her teacup down with a soft clink and spoke again, her tone light but pointed.
"But if you must know… I'm here to help Serenya."
Zaiken's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief.
"Why would you care? You were part of those slave auctions, weren't you?"
That made her laugh—not kindly, but cold and sharp.
A mocking sound.
"What? You're comparing me to those brain-dead slave traders?"
She stood slowly, each movement precise, her gaze razor-sharp.
"You really think I belong in the same league as such weaklings?"
She took a step toward him, her tone turning colder.
"There's one thing I truly hate: seeing a beautiful girl reduced to a miserable state like this."
Zaiken followed her eyes—and then he saw her.
Serenya.
Motionless. Her body half-disintegrated, as if time and magic had tried to erase her existence entirely.
He whispered her name.
"Serenya…"
Then turned back to Xiao Yi, voice cracking with desperate hope.
"Can you fix her?"
She paused. Looked at Serenya. And then—nodded.
"Yes. I can."
Zaiken didn't relax. His fists clenched as his eyes narrowed.
"But… why would you want to? You stayed here just for this?"
Her reply came calm, direct—chilling.
"You think I want to help her?"
She began pacing slowly, speaking like drifting ice.
"Let's make this clear. I came to this auction for one reason: to find a useful slave."
"But thanks to the chaos I may or may not have caused…" she shrugged lightly, "the real slaves were moved elsewhere. And what did I get? A pile of trash."
Her gaze pierced Zaiken like a blade.
"So tell me—why would I waste energy on trash like you?"
Zaiken stood slowly, anger flickering in his eyes.
"You don't get to judge us. You have no idea what we've been through!"
But Xiao Yi didn't blink. She simply smiled.
"And what exactly do you have," she asked softly, "that makes you worth anything to me? You're just garbage. Leftovers the world threw away. The sooner you accept that, the better."
Zaiken trembled—but didn't step back.
"Not all of us are useless. Azenor is different. He's the best. He can use magic better than anyone here."
For just a breath, Xiao Yi's expression flickered—interest, barely visible.
"Hmm… he's a little impressive," she admitted to herself. Then, with a sharper tone:
"But I'm also very good at magic. Much better, in fact. If all I needed was a spellcaster, I wouldn't still be here."
She turned toward Serenya again.
"I don't need just one slave. I need many. Ones who move when I say, fight when I order, and serve without breaking."
Her voice dropped low.
"I'm not building a family… I'm building something far greater. And tools—don't need hearts."
Silence followed.
No comfort. No morality. Just power, drifting in the air like distant thunder.
THE DEVIL YOU KNOW