Chapter 244: Going Door‑to‑Door for Revenge

Evening.

The sunset's afterglow spreads like spilled orange juice, lazily tinting the city's skyline.

Traffic on the streets begins to converge into a river, taillights flickering like red ribbons.

People in various work attire pour out of office buildings, faces bearing the fatigue and relief of a day's work; students in school uniforms, in small groups, laugh and weave through the sidewalks.

The market still echoes with final haggling, housewives lugging fresh ingredients and planning dinner, while some have already arranged to head to restaurants or cinemas, ready to start the night's entertainment.

This is the most lively moment of the day; daytime belongs to the office, night is the real life.

Of course, except for those working overtime.

Until the night fully draws its curtain and the bright lanterns first light up.

At the edge of the city center, on a relatively quiet yet not desolate street corner, stands a building with a rather modest exterior.

The façade isn't grand, and the sign, merely etched in subdued dark metal, reads "Wanbao Leisure Club"; the lettering is small, the lighting a gentle warm yellow, unpretentious.

At first glance, it appears to be an ordinary, even overly plain, members‑only bathhouse, easily overlooked by those seeking the ultimate luxury.

Yet only those truly qualified to enter know what "a world within" means.

Behind this seemingly unremarkable façade lies a blissful realm that can be opened only with a strictly verified member status.

And the only way to become a member here is to join the Wanbao Club.

Even club members are not all entitled to step into the headquarters.

Only core members who have served in the club for at least three years and have successfully completed numerous arduous missions, proving their ability, loyalty, and worth, are granted permission to enter the headquarters.

It is a symbol of seniority, strength, and status, a sanctuary of top‑tier pleasure and networking that the club provides for its elite.

As for lower‑level members? What they can access are merely scattered branches, equally luxurious but clearly a rung below.

The true core circle and top‑tier resources remain open only to a few, hidden deep within this seemingly ordinary bathhouse.

At this moment.

Within the bath area, lavishly adorned with gold and jade, steam swirling.

"President, we have the items," says Li Wei, handsome, wearing a finely tailored, expensive custom suit.

He leans over the edge of the massive pool, with a proper smile, reporting to the one in the water.

Wan Shengcai, the president of the Wanbao Club, is leisurely soaking in a comfortably warm hot‑spring pool.

He appears about forty, his physique impeccably maintained, muscle lines smooth and powerful, sporting a crisp crew cut, his face bearing the authority of long‑standing dominance.

At this moment, several women of varied looks, each a Human World beauty, surround him—some gently massaging his shoulders and neck with delicate fingers, others applying fragrant essential oil to his arms.

Hearing Li Wei's words, Wan Shengcai slowly opens his eyes; the usually radiant gaze carries a hint of laziness, quickly replaced by sharpness.

He says in a deep voice, "Bring it over for a look."

Li Wei immediately nods, "Yes." He lightly claps his hands.

Two subordinates, already waiting outside, hear the call and promptly push a mobile rack draped in deep‑purple Silk cloth into the room, moving gently and respectfully.

Li Wei's gaze sweeps over the concealed object, his voice tinged with barely concealed excitement, and he says:

"Take it down."

"Yes," the subordinate replies, reaching out, carefully pinching the two corners of the Silk cloth and slowly lifting it.

As the Silk slides away, an invisible radiance instantly spreads, dispersing part of the steam in the bathroom.

What appears before everyone is a brocaded robe lifted by the rack.

It does not rely on gold or silver threads or dazzling gems to display its splendor like ordinary fabrics.

Its texture, visible to the naked eye, feels extraordinary—cloud‑like, mist‑like, yet with Silk's smoothness and an indescribable resilience.

The robe shows a naturally formed moon‑white hue, but under the light and steam its surface shimmers with an extremely delicate aura, as if gathering starlight glimmers and the edge colors of a rainbow.

Embroidered with needlework almost invisible to the naked eye, surpassing mortal craftsmanship, are enigmatic yet graceful patterns that seem to flow slowly, containing endless vitality and a tranquil, harmonious Dao Rhythm.

Simply gazing at it brings a sense of calm, scattering stray thoughts, as if even one's surrounding aura becomes lively and gentle.

This is the celestial robe hand‑woven by Seventh Fairy Maiden!

Though it has endured mortal years, its celestial aura and supreme utility remain undiminished.

At the instant Wan Shengcai sees the brocade, his whole body freezes as if struck by a petrification spell, his previously relaxed posture at the pool edge involuntarily leaning forward.

His eyes widen dramatically, the depths of his pupils erupting with unprecedented blazing light, his breathing growing heavy, and the surrounding beauty and comfort instantly lose all allure.

His greatest lifelong hobby is collecting rare treasures from across the world, which is why he named the organization the Wanbao Club.

He boasts of his extensive knowledge, his vault richly stocked, each item once beloved by him.

Yet, compared to this robe that radiates celestial resonance and transcends mortal comprehension...

All his previously prized, life‑valued collections, in his perception, instantly dim to nothing, turning into a heap of unsightly scrap metal!

He feels he wasted countless effort and time on those "trash".

All his endeavors, at this moment, seem wasted!

This is the true treasure he should be collecting!

"Good, good, good!"

Wan Shengcai steps out of the pool, his eyes filled with the brocade.

He reaches for the brocade, but recalling the Water Droplets on his hands and body, he immediately activates a technique to cleanse himself.

Only then does he continue extending his hand, intending to don the brocade onto himself!

He is about to touch the brocade.

A light, slightly nonchalant voice sounds from behind:

"Hold on."

"Hm? Who's there?!"

Wan Shengcai instantly turns around.

In his line of sight, on the luxurious genuine‑leather sofa not far away meant for resting, three figures had suddenly appeared at an unknown time.

One person sat calmly at the very center of the sofa, relaxed as if he were the owner of the place, half his face hidden in shadow, not clearly visible.

Another woman leaned lazily against the sofa, arms crossed over her chest, a half‑smile curving at the corner of her mouth, as if she were gloating over the disaster.

Standing at the front, facing Wan Shengcai like a drawn sword, was a young man.

His skin was dark, his eyes now blood‑red, burning with a murderous intent and deep hatred that seemed about to solidify, fixed on Wan Shengcai; that gaze seemed ready to cut him to pieces!

Li Wei, standing nearby, stepped forward at once and said coldly:

"Dong Lin?! You still dare........"

"Watch the fist!"