Wang Chen stared at the golden strands of fortune being siphoned into the egg, his expression growing darker by the second.
As his own fortune thinned, the egg visibly responded.
It wasn't subtle.
The shell pulsed with vitality, its surface brightening as faint runes shifted and rearranged themselves. Its size increased ever so slightly—yet unmistakably—with every heartbeat.
In just a single breath of time, Wang Chen finished his calculation.
"If this continues at this rate…" His pupils contracted. "Three days."
That was all he had.
Three days before his entire fortune was stripped clean.
"Three days…!" The words echoed in his mind like a death sentence. "That's barely enough time to do anything."
Panic clawed at the edges of his composure.
In the span of a heartbeat, Wang Chen attempted everything he could think of—suppressing the contract, sealing the soul-link, diverting fate flow, even forcefully stabilizing his own destiny with spiritual force.
Nothing worked.
