Terra—thankfully, not Holy Terra.
The name alone was famous enough. And with animal-eared women everywhere he looked, Chen Mo—someone who'd spent years glued to mobile games—had no trouble figuring out exactly where he'd ended up.
The setting had shifted in places, sure, but aside from the whole "men and women" situation, most things were broadly the same.
The people were still the same people. And now he himself belonged to the Draco—bloodline nobility, by reputation—wielding fire-based Originium Arts with frightening proficiency.
As long as he didn't do anything suicidal, he could live pretty comfortably in Lungmen.
The problem, however, was precisely that bloodline.
He dodged one probing stare after another, enduring the same skin-crawling attention—until he finally crossed into the Hungry Wolves Gang's turf. Only then did those irritating gazes fade away completely.
"Whew…"
Chen Mo let out a quiet breath. He knew he'd been a little too blatant lately, enough that certain people were starting to keep tabs on him.
If he were really a Vouivre like some had been whispering, it might not have been a big deal. But he wasn't. He was a Draco—and he looked far too much like Talulah.
The result was predictable: every time he showed up near the edge of the Hungry Wolves' district, there would be eyes in the dark watching him, on and off, never fully visible.
Chen Mo didn't believe for a second that the Hungry Wolves were simply so terrifying that they could scare off anyone lurking in the shadows. As for the real reason… even he didn't know.
Still, as long as they didn't bother him, he could live with it. So far, both sides had kept an uneasy peace, and Chen Mo had chosen not to push it.
What was coming would come eventually. And with his current status, if he tried to run out of Lungmen now, he'd likely be arrested on the spot.
First: get registered. Get a proper Lungmen ID.
"Yo—our gorgeous little beauty is back from work!"
A group of female thugs at the bar's entrance whistled, their lewd eyes crawling over his chest and then lower, brazen and unashamed.
Chen Mo answered them with a blank, beautiful face—emotionless, like a porcelain mask.
"If you don't want to turn to ash, move."
"Don't be so cold. We're colleagues—how about a chat?"
"Yeah, yeah—Chen the pretty boy, want me to give you a massage? Help you relax? Hahahaha—"
They ran their mouths, grinning and swaggering, but none of them actually dared step close enough to lay hands on him. Chen Mo only flicked them a look—like he was glancing at trash—and walked into the quiet bar.
Just as they'd said: colleagues. As long as Chen Mo still needed money, still needed someone to get him legitimate papers, he couldn't afford to openly break with them.
Of course, that assumed they didn't get stupid and force his hand.
He passed through an empty lounge area and headed for the counter. Next to a thin-framed woman, he pulled over a high stool without ceremony and sat down.
"It's handled. Their money is in a warehouse somewhere in the slums. Send your people to find it."
Even after speaking, Chen Mo couldn't stop his eyes from sliding—just once—toward the man crouched below the woman, head bowed as he "worked."
He immediately looked away and spoke again, voice flatter than before.
"I've told you more than once. Don't do that while you're talking to me."
"Since my Fire Dragon is asking so nicely…"
The Lupo woman with long black hair patted the man's head—casual, dismissive, like patting a pet.
"Get out. Your debt's cleared."
"Th-Thank you… thank you."
The man stood up, face wet, expression twisted with humiliation and rage. Still, he clenched his teeth, forced out his thanks, and hurried away.
As he left, Chen Mo could practically feel the hatred the man threw at him.
Which was fair, really. In that man's eyes, Chen Mo was also a man—yet he was working hand-in-hand with this woman, no better than a villain.
"The money's already been transferred into your off-the-books account," the woman said lightly. "Don't worry. Once you have registration, you can withdraw it all."
Bullshit. It was obvious leverage dressed up as generosity.
Chen Mo shot a hard glare at the beautiful Lupo woman beside him, who had just finished pulling up her trousers as if nothing had happened.
"Let me be clear. One more week. If I still don't see my ID and my money, I'll burn your Hungry Wolves Gang to the ground."
By his count, it had been a full month since the "cheat" had yanked him into Lungmen. The only reason he'd held back this long was because this deranged woman—the one everyone called Hungry Wolf—had sheltered him for a time.
But he'd repaid that favor more than enough.
His patience had reached its limit.
Hungry Wolf didn't get angry. She smiled.
Turning toward him, she propped her cheek on her hand, her expression warm—almost gentle.
"Relax. I've put down roots here. This is District 19. This is where the Hungry Wolves stand."
Her smile deepened, as if she were speaking to a treasured possession.
"And you know this area well enough by now to understand something: I'm not in a position to lie to you."
"It had better be true."
There was nothing left to talk about. Chen Mo pushed back as if to leave the counter behind—still reeking of sweat and sourness.
"Wait, Fire Dragon. One more job."
"…You really do know how to squeeze people dry."
Irritated, Chen Mo sat back down. The last thing he wanted was to keep staring at Hungry Wolf's pretty face.
"Say it. I'm going back to sleep after this."
He didn't hide his disgust at all. If he were a normal enforcer, that attitude would've gotten him killed ten times over.
But he wasn't.
He was Chen Mo—the infamous, breathtaking Fire Dragon of Lungmen's District 19.
Hungry Wolf's smile grew wider as she admired his face.
"Tomorrow, you'll represent the Hungry Wolves and go pick up a delivery. That shipment is important. Once you have it, bring it directly to me—personally."
"This kind of errand needs me?" Chen Mo's eyes narrowed. "Or are you thinking I'm about to leave, so you're trying to work me like a mule while you still can?"
Hungry Wolf laughed outright.
Watching Chen Mo's wary expression, she slowly reached out, as if to touch his cheek.
"How could you think that? You know how I feel about you, my dear Chen Mo. Why would I ever want you to suffer?"
Slap.
Chen Mo knocked her hand away without hesitation.
Heat subtly rose in the air—the temperature around him climbing just enough to make the warning unmistakable. Hungry Wolf kept smiling as she withdrew her reddened paw.
"Rest assured. I won't—and I don't dare—lie to you. Tomorrow's delivery really is important to me."
Her tone softened, coaxing.
"I wouldn't trust anyone else with it. Only you have the ability."
So this was how she'd deceived countless men into throwing themselves at her—sweet words, pretty smiles, and a mouth full of poison. Disgusting.
Chen Mo kept his face cold, gave a short nod, and left that filthy place at a brisk pace.
To be honest, he'd come close to burning Hungry Wolf alive just now. Who knew what her dirty hands had touched?
Maybe it was some kind of world correction, but since arriving here, his desires in that regard had dulled significantly.
So it wasn't just that Hungry Wolf had played with countless men.
Even seeing her beautiful face made his stomach turn.
Because the moment he looked at her, he couldn't stop remembering the first time they met—how she'd staged a grotesque, decadent spectacle right in front of him.
No. Stop. If he kept thinking about it, he was going to throw up.
With his expression locked into a dead-eyed scowl, Chen Mo forced back anyone who tried to sidle up and ingratiate themselves. Only when he reached his temporary lodging and locked the door did the tension finally ease from his face.
Then he vaulted onto the bed, burying his long, lean body—and that exquisite face so many people craved—into the soft sheets.
"Once I get my registration… I'll see if I can find a proper job."
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