(The serialization begins! I will post 3 chapter a day till it get to chapter 16, and then I will post 3-4 chapter a week-- my usual upload rate.
If you want to check out advanced chapters, check out my patre.on.com/alittlepiggy33 . There's until chapter 28 there.)
[Owen POV]
"So, if she can't speak, how did she tell you guys about 'O'?" I asked the kids. I was still having trouble communicating with Elena, the mute girl.
The energetic youngest kid with chubby cheeks replied, "She wrote it on the table using cocaine."
I rubbed my forehead. "No wonder this guy hates you. You wasted his product," I muttered as we walked into the drug lord's office together.
The kids flinched when they saw the goons standing there, frozen like statues. I walked to the table casually, picked up a book and pen, and handed them to Elena.
The drug lord had already called his lawyers. They were on their way.
…
"You bitch!" one of the older kids—tall, skinny, Mexican—punched one of the frozen goons after asking him about his sister.
His sister had been captured with him. They were trafficked together from Mexico, and six months ago, she'd been forced into prostitution. We found out she'd died at the hands of a customer with a choking kink. That girl was only seventeen.
After realizing no one could move, the children finally let their rage loose and began beating up the goons. I told them the thugs were paralyzed and couldn't fight back.
I let Michael beat the crap out of the guy while I sat on top of the mahogany desk. The drug dealer's eyes shook, wondering if he was next.
He knew he only survived because I had some use for him.
While we waited for the lawyers, I spoke to Elena. "So, how did you know I would come?"
She quickly wrote her reply and showed it to me. {A bald man told me in a dream.}
"Bald man?" I frowned. "So it's not precog? I thought it might be precognition or clairvoyance, but this… is something else. Did the old man say anything else?"
Elena scribbled again. {Sorry.}
"The old man said sorry, or you did?" I asked, raising my eyebrow in confusion.
She looked a little shy and wrote underneath. {The old man.}
"So, the bald old man said sorry. But I don't know any bald old—" I paused as it clicked.
"Wait. Did the old man wear a white robe?" I asked, slightly shocked.
Elena nodded.
It might've been the god who tried to defend me before. Maybe. I wasn't sure, but it seemed likely. He probably felt apologetic for failing to protect me, so it made sense that he sent a messenger.
I held Elena's hand and asked solemnly, "Did he say anything else?"
She was startled, then patted my hand lightly to let me know she couldn't write while I was holding her.
"Oh. Sorry." I let go, and she gestured it was fine. Then she wrote. {We need to stick together.}
"Us? Me and you?" My mind started racing. Maybe the god needed to use her as a messenger again, so I had to keep her close. I had no issue with that.
But Elena shook her head and pointed to herself, then to everyone else—including Michael, who was still wailing on the goon.
"Everyone?!" I widened my eyes.
Elena shook her head and scribbled: 12.
"Oh, so 12 people from here have to come with me. Do you know who they are?" I asked.
She shook her head. No specifics.
"Anything else?"
She thought for a second, then wrote. {Serum. He will come on your 18th birthday.}
"Serum?" I raised an eyebrow, a flicker of skepticism passing through me—but I brushed it off.
My gut said she wasn't the manipulative type. My sixth sense told me she wasn't trying to grab power. So this wasn't a ploy for her who knew the future to get me to create the esper serum for her– I hope.
Her eyes trembled a little when she saw me scrutinizing her.
Michael suddenly exploded with rage, shifting our attention to him.
He yelled and grabbed one of the guns from the table—guns I had confiscated earlier—and aimed it at the goon's head.
Elena rushed to stop him, grabbing his hand and shaking her head hard.
"Elena! Don't try to stop me! This bastard is the devil! Once I kill him, I'm killing the rest of them too!" Michael shouted.
Elena stopped him again, and he cried out in frustration, almost whining as he looked at her with disbelief, "Elena!"
"Maybe you should wait until she writes the reason why?" the little kid interjected. "Since she can't convince you just by holding your hand."
I wondered if the kid had a special ability too. How could she stay this positive?
Her name was Maya, an 8-year-old white girl from Burbank. Her parents had sold her to the drug dealer to clear their debts… though he killed them anyway.
Michael calmed down a bit, which made Elena breathe a sigh of relief before writing again.
He needs them, she wrote, then pointed at me.
Michael snapped, clearly not caring or maybe suicidal. "You need them?! Why?!"
I shrugged. "Yeah, why do I need them?" I asked Elena.
She wrote something that made me grin devilishly. "Oh, it's that reason."
She turned the paper to Michael too. His fury dissipated slightly.
{Test subject. They will die. Experiments.}
The clues clicked. I had the esper serum formula, but no way of making it or knowing if it would work. These people would become the test subjects, and according to Elena, most—or all—might die. It would take a heavy cost to progress.
But the conversation left me relieved. I didn't feel like death was around the corner anymore. No meteorites, no sudden monster attacks, no tragic accidents before my 18th birthday.
It felt thrilling. Like I was free to live.
As long as I didn't do something stupid… I'd survive.
I told everyone except Elena, Maya, and Michael to hide on the lower floors. The rest of the cartel would arrive soon. They were a serious operation with deep ties—I had to plan carefully if I wanted to protect the kids and myself.
Three lawyers eventually arrived. I had already killed two cartel men who had been driving the first two lawyers. The third lawyer came alone.
The first was bald with a big stomach. The second looked like a gangster. The third was Asian, dressed simply—not flashy, but still elegant.
I told the lawyers to give the kids new identities, keep them together—older ones adopting the younger— and find them a place to live.
I told all of them that the ones that wanted to leave were free to go. But all of them didn't have anyone and wanted to stay together.
They'd also be paid, or in this case, get the backpay for their work. $5,000 a month for their work at the manufacturing plant, plus an additional $10,000 per month for emotional distress.
The drug lord's money and assets would all be transferred to me. He had $25 million in clean, laundered cash, another $10 million in assets, and $5 million more in dirty money not yet processed.
The gangster-looking lawyer threatened me with cartel power, so I sliced his throat. Elena quickly covered Maya's eyes before she could see it.
The fat one trembled and said he didn't have the ability to do what I asked. I killed him too.
"Can you—" I began turning to the Asian lawyer, but he dropped to his knees before I even finished the sentence.
"I can do it! I WILL definitely do it!" he screamed.
I wiped the blood off my face with the back of my hand and smirked. "You really have incredible senses. You understood the situation perfectly."
He raised his head, eyes wide with horror.
I walked to him and pressed the cold metal dagger against his neck. "So… how are you going to do it? I went to Harvard Law before. If you can't give me a perfect plan… I'll kill you right here and now."
He swallowed hard. "I–I can manage the legal identity work, handle the adoption filings, and secure a residence for the kids. It's not overly complex, especially with the right connections. I still have ties to a firm in New York—mid-tier, but discreet. We can use the seized funds to compensate the children through restitution arrangements."
I nodded slightly. "Keep going."
He steadied himself and added, "The older kids, legally, will need documented employment or business ownership to qualify as guardians. Guzman has retail locations across the city. The stores can be transferred."
"Buy it?" I raised an eyebrow.
He waved his hands nervously. "HE CAN SET THE PRICE—A DOLLAR, IF NECESSARY! The transfer just needs to be legally recorded to establish ownership."
I took the blade off his neck. He exhaled, trembling, but continued.
"We convert the assets. Let the kids take over as legal owners or managers. It gives them verifiable income, which satisfies social services for adoption qualifications."
I smiled faintly. "And what about my money?"
He blinked, then leaned forward slightly, sensing the shift. "You want that 25 million he's holding, right? If you move it directly to your account, the IRS—or whatever international equivalent you're dealing with—will flag it. That's money laundering, and the trace leads back fast."
He took a breath, then pitched his voice lower, more calculated. "One method is adoption and inheritance. He adopts you, then transfers the money as part of his estate—zero capital gains, no tax for you. But…"
"Nope." I shook my head and tapped the dagger. He recoiled again, a tremor running through his body as he tried to pull back, but his legs locked up.
"T-T-That's n-not the only method!" he stammered quickly. "Listen! We can place the funds into a venture capital firm—shell entity, full legal registration—and name you as the sole beneficiary or director. From there, you pay yourself through structured salaries, dividends, or bonuses. Gradual, clean. No alarms triggered."
I narrowed my eyes. "You think I want to wait?"
He panicked. "No! No, of course not! Then we split the transfer!"
He blurted out, words tumbling over each other. "We move two million as a gift—he pays the 20% gift tax upfront. Then draft a consultancy agreement."
"Have him hire you for strategic services—$2 million or more. You pay income tax on that, 20%—same as corporate rates. That makes it clean, reportable, and fully usable. Paper trail's airtight."
He was breathing hard now. "You want liquidity without law enforcement or tax hounds crawling up your back, right? No inheritance route, no fake family ties? Then this—this is your cleanest option."
"Hmm…" I took a minute to judge his methods. Anxious, his legs almost gave out and he waited for my response.
"Ah, I finally remembered what's on your body." I blurted out.
"...What?" His mind short-circuited.
"Well, you gave me a well-thought out plan. I really appreciate it, you know?" I said, flashing a look of disappointment as I unsheathed my dagger again.
He flopped to his knees, already accepting his fate, "Why?" he asked.
"You have a deep demonic taint on your body. I couldn't use my contract on you since the taint will corrupt the contract. And you're too smart to be left unchecked. So I have to get rid of you right here." I said casually.
He was confused, "Demonic taint? What is that?"
"You can understand it as demonic energy. There's some people around you that are under a demon parasitism, or something else–"
He suddenly grabbed my leg like he had hope in his eyes, "Demon? You're telling me my daughter was possessed by a demon?"
I was confused and said, "I don't know about your daughter. Maybe–"
"She fell into a coma 11 months ago. I had to work with these people because I ran out of money to pay for her medical costs. If you have to cut me down today, can you do me a favor?"
I understood the meaning behind his words immediately. "You really are smart. It's very wasteful for me to do this. I'll go and check on your daughter. If I can help her, then I will do it."
He smiled softly and closed his eyes, "Thank you."
Although, if she fell into a coma, the chances of it being a parasitism was quite low. It could be possession, which meant I was dealing with a stronger demon. But since I gave him my words, I'll try to save his daughter later on.
I looked at him in confusion as he waited for the blade to arrive.
I asked, breaking him out from his acceptance state, "Dude, I don't know your name, or where your daughter is warded."
"Oh! RIGHT!" He immediately stood up and wrote down all of his information on a piece of paper. His name was David Lee. His daughter is Sarah Lee. She used to be a ballerina, but had an accident on stage, and was in a coma till now.
The doctors didn't know why she didn't wake up. David saw my mystical side as I floated around some needles in front of him when I killed the cartel bodyguard before, so he placed all of his hope on me to be able to save his daughter after he was gone.
When he saw the kids earlier, when he first entered, he got mad and even punched the drug lord. So I guess he didn't know about the child trafficking and the other stuff—only about the drug dealing.
"Ahh, such a waste—" I almost killed him when Elena walked up next to me and shoved a paper in my face.
"What?" I asked, confused, grabbing the paper with my other hand.
She had written, {You need to keep him. He will be your assistant.}
I grumbled in dissatisfaction. "Really? Right now?"
She scribbled again, this time more forcefully, {Sorry. It's been a month.}
She hadn't had anywhere to record the details of her dreams, so she'd forgotten some of them.
"Consider this your lucky day. I'll take the risk of keeping you alive for now," I said as I sheathed my dagger.
David opened his eyes back, and then flopped to the ground on all four. He clutched his collar as he breathed in relief.
He already knew he was a sinner, that's why he accepted his death quite easily. I didn't know letting him live for now would be a good or a bad choice.
Since his cognitive ability wasn't influenced by the taint, it would be hard for me to keep an eye on him.
…
We took three cars to get back to the city. Thankfully, three of the children knew how to drive. The drug lord drove me, David, Elena, and Maya in his Lincoln Continental.
The drug lord—Guzman—hadn't said a word since I told him I didn't want to hear his voice. He was docile, like a puppet, and drove us to the hospital after dropping Maya and Elena off at my house.
The other children were dropped off at a motel owned by Guzman to avoid police suspicion. I also went to the prostitution ring and rescued the girls there.
There were sixteen girls forced into the ring. They were also brought to the motel and would receive compensation—even greater compensation than the others.
I checked on the daughter from a distance, but I shuddered when I saw her.
"It's too strong for me to take head-on," I told David. The energy radiating from her was too thick for me to handle.
I was at Foundation Level 2. There were five levels within the Foundation stage—Skin, Muscle, Vein, Bone, and Meridian. I was currently cleansing my muscles, and I had to complete that before advancing to the next realm—Spirit Warrior.
But the thing on her… it had the strength of a mid-tier Spirit Warrior. It could kill me instantly if I tried to use the same method I used on Jessica and George.
It also wasn't a spirit messenger like before. This was an actual demon. Low level for a demon. It worked instinctively rather than having a full consciousness, so this could be my advantage.
I had killed a lot of demons like this back in my wuxia days. However, I was stronger back then. I had just started on my cultivation right here in this life.
"Hmm… I guess I need to use the core I got earlier. What a waste," I muttered in front of David and Elena. Both were staying at my house—David to keep him in check, and Elena because I still didn't fully trust her either.
David forced an uneasy smile. "What are your plans? How can I help?"
"You can help by taking this pill." I pulled a yellowish pill from my fridge and handed it to him. I hadn't brought it with me earlier, so I had to drag him back here.
"What is this?" he asked.
"Poison," I smirked. "If you don't take the antidote in two days, you'll die. So don't mess around if you want to save your daughter."
He stared at the pill in his hand for a long second. Then, with a deep breath, he swallowed it—determination flashing in his eyes.
Elena scribbled something down and held up the note:
{You look like a villain.}
"I'm not a hero," I shrugged. "So I'm not about to blindly believe he'll do the right thing."
I let out a yawn. The sun was already rising. The entire night had been spent securing my money, and just when I thought I could finally rest, I got dragged into another mess.
Now I had to build an esper sect—whatever that meant—save the Korean guy's daughter, and craft a spiritual weapon using the only demon core I had. It was all incredibly annoying.
And I only had one more day before I had to give George my answer about his movie role.
David left to handle the legal process for the kids and the money transfer. I tried to nap, but Elena crouched beside my bed, staring at me like I was going to disappear in my sleep.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
She wrote: {You don't trust me.}
I paused. "No."
She nodded, then scribbled again:
{I'll earn your trust, O.}
"I hope so," I said, turning over. "Go clean yourself up. Use whatever clothes you find in the closet."
She nodded and left. I managed two hours of rest. Then I started working on the weapon.
I needed to fuse the core with my dagger—and to do that, I needed a proper furnace.
I could've made the weapon from scratch, but that would take too long. There were several blacksmithing classes in town, so I snuck into one of them, put the owner to sleep, and forged the blade without anyone knowing.
The iron dagger with the enchantment transformed into a white, porcelain-like blade. It was denser than the original iron and could channel my energy with ease.
I pushed some of my internal energy into the blade, syncing it to my body.
"My first spirit weapon. Let's see what it becomes."
I took out a weapon-linking talisman and tossed it onto the blade. Taoists had many weapons, and they used clever methods to carry them. Once at a certain level, a weapon—especially a spirit weapon—could be transformed into an accessory for easy carrying.
I named mine The Doll Blade. It transformed into a white bracelet on my right wrist.
I left the blacksmith quietly.
To save the girl from the demon, I had to get creative.
"I need a flight suit," I told David.
He procured one within the hour. After studying blueprints and maps of the hospital, a plan began to form.
I'd set a kill zone in a nearby park, 200 meters from the hospital.
If I taunted the demon directly, I'd die. But her room was on the 7th floor.
"So… you'll taunt it, fly out the window, force it to leave my daughter's body, and lead it to a park trap?" David asked in disbelief.
"Yup. When you see it leave, count to 30 and then place this talisman on your daughter's head."
"What if the window is sealed?" he asked.
"Then I'll break it. You can pay for it later," I said, already walking toward the hospital.