Assassin's Chronicle - Chapter 508: Aid

Sixty Years ago, one middle aged man brought a Qilin that looked like a pug and a mandarin duck that looked exactly like a duck, walking into the Imperial City of the Central Plains for the first time.

Three Souls lay in one body,

One soul belonging to a man who had reached the peak, the strongest there ever was, the one who had the talent to do so. Yet he suffered because of his talent. His soul shone as bright as a galaxy once, but now is but a sun. His talents made him the envy of all.

And He lost it all.

The Second soul belonged to a man soon to be the richest in the world.

A man who had his face charred, a man who seemingly had every odd placed against him from the very beginning.

He went against the family that abused him and triumphed over them. Yet he was left broken inside, He craved a release, and the first soul brought him that release.

And he became a psychopath that scared the manifestation of evil itself.

And the Third?

The child born from their souls was anything but ordinary. Cursed with a fate no one wanted. Cursed with the fact that the Universe wanted him dead.

He was born from Chaos And Ice and a fraction of light, Yet manipulated Space.

His abilities were so powerful they were harmful to his body.

His talent is as infinite as the boundless cosmos.

His enemies were greater than one could count.

His luck is worse than shit.

And Yet, he continued to fight. Despite whatever was thrown at him, he would brute force through it or outsmart it, befitting the other two above.

He continued to fight, not believing in the bullshit that was destiny.

An Yin, a delicate beauty caught in a risky charade, pretends to date playboy Bo Cheng to escape her troubles—until she meets his brother, ​Bo Shaojin: the ruthless, untouchable CEO whose icy dominance rules both boardrooms and high society.Their first encounter crackles with sizzling tension. Shaojin’s piercing gaze lingers on An Yin, his brother’s “girlfriend,” as she trembles under his scrutiny. But when their paths collide again—her, half-dressed and panic-stricken in his bathroom; him, a storm of restraint and hunger—the line between duty and desire shatters.As An Yin’s fake relationship unravels, Shaojin’s ironclad control dissolves. Drunk on obsession, he corners her in a midnight confession, his hardened facade crumbling as he vows, “I won’t touch you…” But his hands whisper promises his words deny.