Sapa town emerged amidst the vast Northwest highlands at an altitude of over 1,500 meters, a land renowned for its thick silken veils of mist and terraced rice fields that wind like labyrinths along the mountain slopes. In the silent black night, the town lay submerged beneath a drifting layer of thin fog. Moss-covered wooden roofs and weathered tiles flickered in and out of view under warm yellow streetlights, creating a space that felt both real and ethereal.

  Highland winds sliced through the valleys, carrying a characteristic biting chill, gently brushing past the canopy and making the entire mountainous region resemble a muse slumbering in the arms of the forest.

  Din, sitting in the passenger seat, finished a brief call and glanced at his watch:

  – “One of my subordinates runs a homestay nearby. We will stop there to rest and finalize our plan of action.”

  Erion, his hands steady on the steering wheel, nodded slightly:

  – “Fine, show the way.”

  About thirty minutes later, the line of luxury vehicles pulled up in front of a homestay nestled in T? Van village. Din rolled his shoulders to ease the tension and spoke in a deep voice:

  – “We’re here. Everyone out.”

  The moment they stepped out, a cool breeze from the heart of the valley swept past, carrying the sweet, heady fragrance of ripe seasonal rice. Amidst the silent night, the magnificent terraced fields stretching along the mountainsides appeared ghostly under the shroud of mist. Lights from the distant town reflected off the surface of the paddies, making them shimmer as if coated in a layer of liquid silver. Heavy grains of rice swayed gently, brushing against one another to create an elegant rustling sound — like the whisper of Mother Earth in the dead of night.

  The mist drifted lazily, clinging to the soft curves of the terrain, making the entire field look as if it were covered in a mysterious thin veil. In the gentle darkness, the tiered layers of fields followed one after another like giant, still waves, breathing in the rhythm of the mountains.

  Trang stood frozen, her eyes wide with wonder at such transcendent beauty. This was her first time witnessing such a vivid wonder with her own eyes. The ribbons of rice winding along the slopes were no longer just products of human hands; they appeared as the masterful strokes of nature — both majestic and heartbreakingly delicate.

  She took a few more steps, feeling the damp air on her skin. Before her eyes, nature was using the night mist, light, and the scent of rice to weave a portrait of silence, a true fairyland in the heart of the Northwest. Even the little demons and the Serpent Clan warriors, accustomed to grueling battles, fell silent before this rare, peaceful scenery.

  At that moment, a polite middle-aged man stepped out and bowed respectfully:

  – “Welcome, Count, and distinguished guests. The accommodations have been carefully prepared; please, come inside.”

  As he led the way, the homestay owner struck up a calm conversation:

  – “It has been a long time since I last saw the Count and Master Yin visit. Moving through the night like this, you must have some great matter to attend to, correct?”

  Din walked while keeping a sharp eye on every corner of the house:

  – “Interplanetary criminals are plotting an illegal transaction right on the peak of Fansipan. Our goal is to capture their entire legion alive.”

  The homestay owner showed a flicker of surprise:

  – “I have been here for a long time; most travelers passing through are mortals, and only rarely do a few characters with a special aura appear. I wonder if any of them are the subjects the Count is pursuing?”

  Erion placed an arm protectively around Trang’s shoulder, his sharp gaze glancing at the security camera system installed at the entrance:

  – “Show me the list and images of those you consider ‘special.’ I have a hunch that they have already set foot on this land.”

  Inside the homestay lobby, honey-sweet yellow lights spread out, bathing the entire space in a pleasant warmth that chased away the biting mountain chill lurking outside. The deep-colored wooden walls reflected the soft glow, creating a familiar atmosphere, as if the room itself were embracing the guests.

  The polished brown wooden floors and delicately carved handcrafted furniture were skillfully arranged around a smoldering fireplace. On the walls, hand-woven brocades with vibrant patterns added accents, deeply imbued with the soul of highland culture. The faint scent of pine mingled with the lingering aroma of tea, making anyone’s spirit feel extraordinarily relaxed.

  Through the large glass windows, the night still clutched the misty terraced fields. The valley wind slipped through the door cracks, carrying the rustling sound of ripe rice in the mist, harmonizing with the cozy golden light and turning the lobby into a peaceful oasis amidst the silent wilderness.

  The moment they entered, a sweet, rich aroma wafted into their nostrils, awakening every sense.

  Mary took a deep breath, her eyes bright with excitement:

  – “What is that smell? It’s so fragrant... my stomach is starting to protest already!”

  The little demons couldn't help themselves either, sniffing continuously as the sound of them gulping reached everyone’s ears:

  – “We are both cold and hungry... this scent is true torture!”

  The homestay owner smiled kindly:

  – “That is grilled chestnut cake — the ‘national’ snack of Sapa. The crust is paper-thin, wrapping around a rich, buttery filling of mashed chestnuts. Just place it over glowing red charcoal, and the fragrance will fill the air.”

  As he spoke, he proudly introduced more:

  – “Additionally, we have prepared grilled forest chestnuts, corn cakes, and savory smoked buffalo meat. The staff are brewing tea and will bring it out shortly to serve the masters.”

  Phong Túc stepped toward the fireplace, his hands moving nimbly to add dry logs to the hearth, stoking the fire so the warmth would spread more intensely:

  – “Everyone, come here and warm up; your body temperatures need to be stabilized immediately.”

  As everyone gathered around the flickering flames, Trúc Di?n and the members of the Snake Tribe finally felt like they were coming back to life. The warmth seeped into their veins, clearing their blurred vision and easing their heavy limbs.

  Bách Di?n had regained his agility, his eyes moving smoothly once more. His skin tone underwent a magical transformation, shifting from a somber brownish-gray to a vibrant orange with a golden glint — a sign that his body had reached its ideal temperature.

  The little demons also fully woke up, their faces brightening, no longer dazed from lack of sleep.

  The homestay owner quickly urged his staff to bring out the treats. He personally carried a tray of specialties, gently placing it on the table with a respectful manner:

  – “Please, enjoy a taste of the Northwest’s passion.”

  The rich aroma of tea began to spread, soothing all tension. The owner handed a steaming cup of tea to each person in turn:

  – “This is S?n M?t H?ng Sam tea. The elegant sweetness of stevia combined with the fragrance of jasmine and mountain tea will help soothe your nerves and purify your body after a long journey. Please, help yourselves.”

  On the table now, fragrant tea with rising wisps of steam sat next to plates of delicious sweet cakes. Everything blended together in the cozy atmosphere, bringing a rare sense of peace, as if the war outside were nothing more than a distant dream.

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  At a deserted rest stop on the highway, two BMW X7s were refueling. In a stone-table area on the outer edge — where the shadows of tree canopies hid them from human sight — Nicolas and the shareholders sat waiting in silence.

  Grimm and Kane quickly brought over water and some snacks. Grimm placed the bottled water on the table, speaking softly:

  – “Please have something, bosses, to keep your strength up.”

  As Kane sat down, he caught sight of the man in the ash-grey suit. His eyes were tightly shut, and his fingertips moved rapidly, tapping out a strange, rhythmic sequence. Kane couldn't suppress his curiosity:

  – “What are you doing, boss? It looks quite mysterious.”

  The man didn't answer immediately. A moment later, he slowly opened his eyes, his eyeballs bloodshot as if he had just exhausted a great deal of mental energy:

  – “Something has changed. On the mountain peak... there is currently an ambush.”

  Nicolas’s face paled, the cigar in his hand nearly falling to the ground:

  – “Who is it? Who could be faster than us?”

  The woman in the purple suit tightened her gaze, her face etched with suspicion:

  – “Impossible! Aside from us, who else could know the exact coordinates and time of the transaction?”

  The man in the grey suit — a demon highly skilled in the Heaven-Earth Geomantic Sand Table — did not argue. He drew an old, heavily marked leather map from his inner pocket and began muttering ancient incantations.

  ***

  Meanwhile, on the peak of Fansipan, the night remained shrouded in a chilling silence. The deep indigo sky stretched infinitely, where thin wisps of clouds drifted past a pale moon. The mountains below were swallowed by a hazy, cold mist. It was so quiet that every gust of wind passing over the stone ridges echoed like a long sigh from the wilderness.

  But that peace existed only in the blink of an eye.

  A sudden blast of powerful wind rose up, sweeping across the summit like an invisible tsunami. The sky immediately turned furious. Clouds were torn apart, coiling into pitch-black vortexes, twisting tightly together. The air became thick and heavy, as if being suffocated.

  A flash of blue lightning sliced through the night like a cold blade, followed by a thunderous roar that echoed against the cliffs — a somber sound that seemed to resonate from a bottomless abyss. In just seconds, the previously serene sky had transformed into a chaotic arena of gale-force winds and electric light.

  Amidst the raging storm of dark arts, Demon King Satan sat nonchalantly by a flickering campfire. In his hand was a grilled chestnut cake, steam rising from it, its rich and buttery aroma still lingering. Despite a few raindrops falling on his face, he continued to savor it slowly.

  He glanced at Lita, the corners of his mouth curling into an expectant smile:

  – “It is time. Take action, my daughter!”

  As if her combat instincts had been awakened, Lita stepped into the heart of the strong wind. Her hands opened wide as if to seize the entire power of the heavens. Instantly, the air before her contracted; a small cyclone formed from the void, spinning at a terrifying speed. Slender sparks of electricity began to flicker within the heart of the vortex, weaving together into a vibrant web of light.

  The wind howled. Electric light, as dense as the roots of an ancient tree, spread across the sky.

  From the heart of the cyclone, a brilliant explosion of white-blue light erupted — and the form of a legendary scepter gradually materialized. The shaft appeared first, slender yet possessing a majestic metallic silver hue, its surface carved with veins of energy that flowed like lifeblood.

  The head of the scepter appeared last: a small, floating, translucent cloud protected by an exquisite metal frame. Piercing through that cloud was a frozen bolt of lightning, sharp as a blade of light, continuously emitting tiny, lethal sparks.

  The moment Lita gripped the scepter, the cyclone instantly vanished into nothingness. All that remained was the crackling sound of electricity rippling across the surface of the cloud — like the final breath of a tamed storm. She tossed her golden-brown hair defiantly and looked up at the groaning sky:

  – “Let me show you... what it truly means to be the ruler of the heavens!”

  Lita gallantly raised her scepter high, its cold, sharp tip pointing directly at the heart of the night sky.

  In that moment, all of creation seemed to hold its breath.

  The sky above Fansipan Peak began to distort catastrophically. Layers of clouds were yanked toward a single point, spiraling as if squeezed by a giant hand. A mass of pitch-black clouds quickly formed, rotating at a terrifying speed and creating a massive, inverted funnel-shaped cyclone that hung suspended like an abyss ready to swallow the world.

  The wind exploded with fury.

  These were no longer ordinary gusts, but chaotic currents of air sweeping across the summit, carrying cold mist, ice dust, and shattered fragments of clouds. Small cloud vortexes nearby were instantly sucked into the center like scraps of paper before a lethal black hole. They disintegrated, merging into the giant vortex that roared with the terrifying silence of ultimate power.

  Lightning flashed incessantly within the rotating cloud mass. Bolts of electricity raced along the funnel walls, crashing into one another to create streaks of brilliant blue-white light — illuminating Lita’s proud silhouette at the heart of the storm, her golden-brown hair whipping violently like a command flag. The scepter in her hand glowed brilliantly, connecting directly to the clouds above via an invisible pillar of energy linking heaven and earth.

  Fansipan Peak had now become a grand arena of gales. In stark contrast to the world-shaking spectacle, the agents of the Satan Royal Family remained as relaxed as if they were sitting in a business-class movie theater. They nibbled on chewy, sweet smoked buffalo meat, nodding in appreciation of the performance.

  One agent popped the tab of a non-alcoholic beer, took a refreshing gulp, and laughed out loud:

  – “Fantastic! With Princess Lita personally taking action, the petty magic tricks of that lot are barely enough to cause an itch.”

  ***

  Under the eaves of the homestay in T? Van village, Anh Tú stood quietly watching the terraced fields slumbering in the mist.

  Suddenly, the roar of thunder echoed back from the direction of the mountain peak, shattering the tranquil atmosphere. He hurried out to the yard to observe. Atop Fansipan, a wild storm was howling madly, with lightning tearing the night apart. But the strange thing was that the storm was localized to a single point, while the surrounding sky remained serene, filled with twinkling stars as if nothing were happening.

  He immediately ran inside to report:

  – “Something’s happening! There’s a massive cyclone occurring on the mountain peak, but strangely, the surrounding sky... is completely normal!”

  Hearing this, Trúc Di?n’s expression shifted instantly as he understood the situation:

  – “It’s Lita... she has made her move. Something bad must have happened up there!”

  The entire group rushed outside, stunned to witness the anomalous, localized storm. Erion kept his arms crossed, maintaining a strangely calm demeanor:

  – “So my father-in-law has arrived... but I wonder which fool was brave enough to provoke my ‘tigress’ into such a state?”

  Phong Túc narrowed his eyes, his gaze turning sharp and decisive:

  – “It can only be Nicolas’s people. Word has it their board members possess very eccentric abilities... However, ‘eccentric’ and ‘powerful’ are two entirely different concepts. Let’s see how long they last against the lightning of the Royal Family.”

  At the desolate rest stop…

  The man in the ash-grey suit remained with his eyes glued to the map, his hands weaving continuous mudras while his mouth muttered strange, ancient incantations. Suddenly, he was jolted backward, his breath coming in ragged gasps as cold sweat poured down his forehead.

  He stammered in a fit of panic:

  – “That girl... just who on earth is that girl? How can her power... call upon the wind and summon the rain to such a world-shaking extent?”

  The woman in the red dress sitting next to him turned pale:

  – “A girl? Is it possible that even your Heaven-Earth Geomantic Sand Table technique cannot neutralize it?”

  The woman in the purple suit stood up abruptly, her lips curling into a sinister, wicked arc:

  – “Useless! Let me handle her.”

  She — a high-ranking demon proficient in the art of Voodoo — slowly pulled a pristine white cloth doll from her expensive handbag and placed it neatly on the stone table. In her hand appeared a long sewing needle, slender and chillingly sharp.

  A glint of cunning flickered in her eyes:

  – “Let’s see how many of my needle pricks you can endure.”

  However, just as the tip of the needle was about to pierce the doll’s chest... the woman’s entire body suddenly froze like a block of stone. Her hand, clutching the needle, was locked mid-air, trembling violently but unable to descend even a single millimeter.

  ***

  At that very moment, on the windswept peak of Fansipan…

  The Grand Madam Advisor slowly extended her right hand, her movements as leisurely as a conductor’s. From the tips of her gaunt fingers, slender threads of spiritual energy shimmered — they were nearly invisible in the dark night, only occasionally glistening as they caught a stray spark from Lita’s lightning storm. Those threads stretched across the void, connecting directly to the target hundreds of kilometers away.

  As a supreme master of the art of Puppetry, she let out a mocking laugh:

  – “Using Voodoo to oppose me? Such child's play expects to outmaneuver the Puppetry of this Grand Madam Advisor?”

  She ruthlessly curled her ring finger. Her eyes suddenly turned grotesque, and a distorted, murderous smile spread across her face:

  – “Daring to harbor designs against Princess Lita... I shall show you the meaning of a fate worse than death.”

  ***

  Back at the rest stop…

  Nicolas had not yet understood what was happening. He frantically shook the shoulder of the woman in the purple suit:

  – “Hey! What’s wrong with you? Why are you standing there like a statue?”

  The hand holding the sewing needle suddenly jerked... and began to move in a horrific manner.

  As if pulled by invisible strings, her wrist twisted a full turn at an entirely inhuman angle, her joints emitting blood-curdling cracking sounds. The cold needle tip rose slowly, inch by inch, pointing directly at her own eyeball.

  The woman’s entire body shook in extreme terror, but her will had been completely stripped away. She no longer controlled so much as a single muscle fiber on her face. Her mouth hung open in silence, her eyes rolled back, desperately looking toward Nicolas for help as the needle tip came within millimeters of her pupil.

  – “Stop her! Now!” Nicolas screamed.

  He and the others immediately lunged forward, using all their strength to restrain the “possessed” arm. Grimm quickly pulled a laptop from his backpack, shielding her face to create a temporary barrier.

  The young man, his face drained of all color, spoke with a trembling voice:

  – “This is bad... it’s long-range puppetry. We are up against a high-tier Puppetry Master!”

  Nicolas hissed an order through gritted teeth:

  – “Tie her hands and feet! Hurry, before she blinds herself!”