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... , lifelike image of a gorgeous woman gazed back at him. Her perfect features held a gentle, warm smile, and her eyes felt alive, meeting his in the reflection.

Fang Xiu frowned. Strangely, he didn’t sense the usual dark corruption.

Normally, facing a Specter God meant hearing those eerie, mind-bending whispers—but this tattoo? Silence. No murmurs, no chills.

The only odd thing was a lingering illusion since "wife" appeared on his skin. It was like she was always nearby, j ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

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There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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