Chapter 12 — I'll Make the Wolf King Pay in This Life

That smile held the frenzied desperation of a man backed into a corner.

"No trump card left?"

He raised his right hand. A wound gaped in his palm, dripping blood. As the crimson beads fell onto the stone gate, they were absorbed by the ancient gold light. The massive stone barrier began to creak, sliding open inch by inch.

"You think the shards are the only key to this altar?" Le Hanh’s voice was raw and gravelly. "In my past life, I spent ten years researching every secret you held. I know the truth—it is not the shards, but the blood. The blood of a beast-kin that has devoured your shards." The gate opened by a third, and a brilliant golden radiance surged outward, illuminating the entire underground chamber. An Cuu Uyen’s expression froze, his composure shattered.

"Tri Loc Minh, step back."

Tri Loc Minh retreated three paces. An Cuu Uyen surged forward, his physical form instantly dissolving. His human shape vanished, replaced by something colossal—a darkness that eclipsed the sky. A pitch-black python erupted from where he had stood, its massive body coiling and stretching to fill a third of the cavern. Each scale was as large as a stone slab, with golden veins of energy flowing between them like molten lava. The giant triangular head lowered until it was level with Le Hanh. Even a single vertical golden pupil was larger than a man. The Divine Beast’s pressure was released at full strength—ninety-seven percent. Le Hanh’s knees shattered instantly. It was not a voluntary kneel; the very bones were unable to withstand the weight of such authority, snapping under the physical force. He crashed to the ground, a choked groan escaping his throat, yet his hand still clawed toward the gate. It was halfway open.

"Do you think... forcing me to my knees will stop me?"

Le Hanh’s face pressed into the cold, blood-slicked stone. His eyes still burned with a manic fire. "Tri Loc Minh stole everything from me. My shards, my status, my clan—I have nothing left." His fingers touched the edge of the threshold.

"But if I can just obtain the Core—" A hand clamped down on his wrist.

It was not the serpent. It was Tri Loc Minh. She crouched before him, pinning his reaching hand firmly to the floor. Le Hanh looked up. His face was a mask of gore, but the hysteria in his gaze faltered.

"In our past life," Tri Loc Minh said, her voice soft, "I kept you for three years. Do you know why?" Le Hanh remained silent. "It wasn't because you were valuable. It wasn't because you could help me manipulate the mining industry." Her grip on his wrist was not particularly strong, yet he could not struggle free; the lingering pressure of An Cuu Uyen held him pinned to the earth. "It was because you were dying. A stray dog gasping for breath in a cage—I simply couldn't bear to watch it perish. That is all." Le Hanh’s pupils trembled. "Then you shifted, bit through three of my ribs, earned me three hundred billion, and watched as I was cast down from that building." She released him and stood up. "So, in this life, I am not keeping a wolf. But I do not intend to kill you, either." She stepped back. "I will rescind the Red Moon bounty."

Le Hanh’s body stiffened.

"The condition is that you leave," Tri Loc Minh continued. Her voice carried neither hatred nor mercy, only a total, icy indifference. "Leave Long City. Leave the power circles of the beast-kin world. Go somewhere where no one knows your name, and start over."

"Are you pitying me?" A flicker of indignation sparked in Le Hanh’s voice.

"It is not pity," she replied, looking down at him. "It is simply that I do not wish to see you in my life again."

The underground chamber fell into a profound silence. Only the thunderous, rhythmic breathing of An Cuu Uyen echoed like a distant gale. Le Hanh lay crumpled on the ground, his knees destroyed, staring into her eyes for a long time. Then, he laughed—a sound of bitter relief, as if a heavy burden had finally been cast aside.

"Tri Loc Minh." He bowed his head, his forehead pressing against the cold earth. "In the past life... I am sorry."

Tri Loc Minh said nothing. She turned and walked toward the gate. It was fully agape now, and the golden light from within surged out to meet her. She stepped inside. In the center of the altar, a golden sphere the size of a fist hovered in the air—the Core of the Divine Beast, the Primal Power. The final three percent. As she reached out, the orb recognized her and drifted into her palm. It was warm, not with the cold, rigid chill of ore, but with the warmth of life. It felt like a heartbeat. She carried it out, stepping back into the chamber where An Cuu Uyen awaited her in his human form, his golden eyes locked onto the orb.

"My heart," he whispered.

Tri Loc Minh walked up to him and pressed the sphere against his chest. "I am returning it to you."

The orb sank into him. An Cuu Uyen shuddered as golden veins rippled across his skin, pulsating like tides before fading into the dark. When everything grew still, he opened his eyes. His golden pupils shone brighter than before, like twin suns.

"One hundred percent," he stated.

Tri Loc Minh watched him. "How does it feel?"

An Cuu Uyen looked at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers as golden light sparked at his fingertips. "Whole," he said, looking up at her. "Thirty thousand years. For the first time, I feel whole."

Tri Loc Minh nodded. "Then—"

Before she could finish, An Cuu Uyen’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. His forehead rested against hers, his golden eyes inches from her own.

"Tri Loc Minh."

"What is it?"

"One coin, five years of lifespan. Two chicken eggs. And the phrase 'No refunds or exchanges'." His voice was as deep and warm as bubbles rising through water. "In this life, I can no longer afford to pay you back."

Tri Loc Minh’s heart hammered against her ribs. "Then pay in installments," she suggested.

An Cuu Uyen smiled. It was no longer a forced or faint shadow of an expression, but a radiant, genuine smile that reached his eyes, reflecting her image in their golden depths.

"Installments," he repeated. "Very well. I shall pay with thirty thousand years of interest. Is that enough?"

Tri Loc Minh felt her ears burn. "...That is enough."

In the silence of the cavern, Le Hanh had long since dragged his broken body away. The golden light from the altar slowly faded, and darkness returned to the depths. But in the small space where Tri Loc Minh stood, the golden patterns on An Cuu Uyen’s skin illuminated them, warm as a pocket-sized sun. She remembered the first night, a snake the size of her thumb coiled by her pillow, rasping in a voice like sandpaper: "I can speak with you." Back then, she had replied, "I don't need it." But now—

"An Cuu Uyen?"

"Hm?"

"From now on, you can talk to me."

The arms of the man tightened around her. "I still prefer to speak in my serpent form," he said, resting his chin on her head. "Human form... it feels a bit strange."

"Then change back."

"No."

"Why not?"

"When I am a snake, I have no hands," he said softly. "I cannot hold you."

Tri Loc Minh buried her face in his chest. The golden veins pulsed beneath his skin, pressed against her cheek. It was warm. It felt like coming home.