Her Sweet Arrival, His Blood-Stained Fate

Steam still clung to the air as Valent Sullivan tightened his fist, feeling the new strength coursing through his meridians. The Heaven-Seizing Creation Pill had done its work. His body felt lighter, sharper, almost humming with newfound power.

“Late-stage Transforming Realm…” Valent exhaled, flexing his fingers. “Not bad. I want to see how strong this really is.”

He lifted his hand and drove his fist directly into the marble wall of his bathroom.

Boom.

The impact shook the entire room. Instead of the expected pain, cracks spider-webbed across the marble, fragments dropping to the floor like shattered eggshells.

Valent smirked. “So this is the power of the Transforming Realm. Chu Fan should still be at the peak of Dark Jin right now, if the timeline hasn’t shifted. Good.”

In the original novel, Chu Fan—Son of Destiny, protagonist of this absurd world—only broke through to the Transforming Realm after stealing several fortuitous encounters that originally belonged to the villains. Right now, he hadn’t obtained any of them yet.

Which meant Valent was finally ahead.

A sharp boom! interrupted his thoughts.

The door of his room was kicked open violently.

Valent didn’t even flinch. He merely turned his head and saw a girl—seventeen, maybe eighteen—barge in with the arrogance of someone who believed the world revolved around her.

Adelia Sullivan.

His stepsister.

His tragedy.

In the novel, she was the worst sort of character—a brainless, lovesick girl who fell for Chu Fan at first sight. Obsessed, devoted, blind. She gave him everything, destroyed anyone who opposed him, even murdered her own parents when they tried to stop her.

Valent stared at her. Clean-faced, fair-skinned, beautiful in a delicate way—but her eyes betrayed it all: entitlement, stubbornness, unearned confidence.

Fortunately, he had put on his clothes after showering. If not, this idiot girl barging in would’ve been a far bigger problem.

He crossed his legs lazily on the sofa. “Look at that. Miss Sullivan didn’t go running to her lover Chu Fan. Instead, she came here. What do you want?”

Adelia didn’t even look at him. She sat down on the opposite sofa, wiping dust from her skirt with exaggerated disdain.

“No nonsense. I’m here to tell you that you need to pack your things and leave the Sullivan Estate before tonight.”

Valent blinked slowly.

Her voice, her posture—everything about her screamed arrogance. As if she were doing charity work by even speaking to him.

“For the sake of our brother-sister relationship,” she continued, “I won’t embarrass you too much. I’ll even let you keep a small allowance so you don’t starve outside.”

She waved her hand like a queen dismissing a servant. “But the Sullivan assets? Forget it. A prodigal like you will only destroy them.”

In the original story, Adelia succeeding in inheriting the Sullivan Group was one of the dumbest, most forced plot points Valent had ever read. A teenage girl with no business experience, no leadership qualities, no brains, suddenly controlling a corporate empire? Ridiculous.

And all of it was simply to hand everything to Chu Fan later.

Valent smirked. “The moment our parents died, you were already planning to kick me out, huh?”

Adelia’s expression didn’t change. She clearly wasn’t trying to hide it.

“You’re the eldest son of the Sullivan family,” Valent said, leaning forward, “yet you think you can throw me out and take control yourself? Adelia… are you stupid, or do you really think the Sullivan board will accept a teenage girl as head of the family?”

“You’re the one who doesn’t know your place,” she shot back coldly. “A useless playboy who only knows how to spend money, drink, and flirt with women.”

She jabbed a finger toward his face. “If the Sullivan family was left to you, our ancestors’ graves would explode.”

Valent’s smile widened slightly.

“You think you can protect the Sullivan legacy if you’re in charge?”

“Protect?” Adelia scoffed. “No, Brother. Under me, the Sullivan family will become the top force in the entire East Daxia Sea.”

Valent snorted. “Top force? Don’t you mean part of the dowry you’re preparing for your pretty boy Chu Fan? If he takes over the Sullivan family, we’ll probably have to change our surname to Chu.”

“Watch your tongue!” she snapped, eyes flashing. “Don’t insult Brother Chu Fan again!”

Valent tilted his head. “You still don’t understand?”

He looked directly into her eyes.

“You planned our parents’ deaths.”

Adelia’s face immediately drained of color.

Her breath hitched, eyes trembling violently.

That alone confirmed it.

Valent kept talking, voice cold enough to freeze blood. “To help Chu Fan obtain the Sullivan fortune, you killed the parents who raised you for seventeen years.”

He stared at her like she was a monster.

“A dog kept for more than ten years would be loyal,” he said. “But you? You’re worse than a beast.”

Adelia flinched as if slapped. Memories flickered in her eyes—her parents’ warmth, their soft voices, their love.

For a moment, guilt surfaced.

But it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“No… no, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. “They wanted to stop me from being with Brother Chu Fan. They badmouthed him. They deserved it!”

Valent sighed.

Hopeless.

Completely poisoned by protagonist aura.

“Your brain really rotted,” he murmured.

Adelia stood abruptly, eyes filled with killing intent. “Originally, I wanted to spare your life for the sake of our parents. But you know too much. If I let you live, Brother Chu Fan might get implicated.”

She pointed at him.

“So go. Accompany our parents.”

Her emotionless voice was chilling.

A cold command followed:

“Come in.”

Six strong bodyguards stepped in, bowing respectfully.

“Second Miss.”

Adelia gestured lazily. “My brother is grieving, so he wants to accompany our parents. Put him in a sack and bury him somewhere quiet.”

“As you command!”

They moved toward Valent.

Valent laughed.

“Trash.”

He lifted a finger.

“Blood-Knife Monk.”

A deep, resonant chant echoed—

GONG—

A burly monk materialized behind him, carrying a blood-stained saber. His eyes were hollow, merciless, carved from killing intent itself.

Before the bodyguards could even raise their arms, the monk moved.

Shing—!

Six heads snapped back nearly simultaneously as deep slashes tore across their throats. Blood sprayed like crimson rain, coating the white marble floor—and splattering directly across Adelia’s face.

She screamed.

The sight of the bodies collapsing, twitching, bloody, made her legs go weak. She scrambled, slipped, and fell into the pool of blood, staining her pristine clothes and pale skin.

She looked horrific—like a demon dragged from hell.

“VALENT SULLIVAN!” she shrieked, voice cracking. “I’ll kill you!”

Valent leaned back, bored. “Your pawns are gone. Got anything else?”

Adelia’s eyes darted wildly.

Then she shouted:

“Linghu Da! Come out!”

A blur of motion.
An old man appeared silently—calm, stern, carrying the quiet pressure of a martial artist.

Valent raised an eyebrow.

Sullivan family’s old retainer.

Codenamed: Falcon Ling.

Dark Jin, early stage. A man who owed the Sullivan patriarch his life.

In the original novel, Adelia bribed him and used him to tamper with her parents’ car. The one who caused the crash. The murderer behind the wheel.

Falcon Ling stared at Valent with complicated eyes. “Young Master… I watched you grow up. I truly do not wish to kill you.”

He sighed deeply.

“But I cannot turn back now. I will make it quick. You won’t suffer.”

He stepped forward.

Valent smirked. “If you want to kill me, deal with my man first.”

He gestured lightly at the Blood-Knife Monk.

Falcon Ling frowned. “A powerful fighter… but mercenaries are nothing before an Anjin master.”

“You talk too much,” Valent said casually.

He snapped his fingers.

“Kill.”

The Blood-Knife Monk vanished.

Step—

He reappeared directly in front of Falcon Ling, saber already descending.

Ling reacted instantly, raising his arm to parry—

CLANG!

The impact shook the entire hallway. The floor cracked beneath Falcon Ling’s feet, forcing him back three steps. His eyes widened.

“…Mid-stage Transforming Realm?!”

The monk didn’t speak.

He attacked again.

Slash.
Slash.
Slash.

Each blow carried monstrous strength, enough to crush steel. Falcon Ling barely deflected them, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

In his mind, panic surged.

A Transforming Realm expert… and loyal to Valent?

How?

Valent watched the two exchange attacks like one might watch a casual TV show. His expression relaxed, almost amused.

Adelia, shaking and covered in blood, pointed a trembling finger at him.

“Valent… you… you dare… you dare fight me…?”

Valent tilted his head. “Fight you? You kicked down my door, tried to murder me, tried to bury me alive… and you say I dare?”

He smiled.

“Adelia, you’re not brave. You’re stupid.”

“You—!!”

Before she could finish, a thunderous impact echoed.

BOOM!

Falcon Ling’s body flew across the room, smashing into the far wall. Blood spurted from his mouth. His right arm hung limp—shattered from blocking the Blood-Knife Monk’s saber.

He struggled but couldn’t rise.

Impossible… he thought. Transforming Realm… he never had a chance.

The monk stepped forward, saber raised for the finishing blow.

Valent lifted a hand. “Stop.”

The monk halted instantly.

Valent walked leisurely toward Falcon Ling and crouched down.

“Old Ling, you served my parents faithfully for twenty years… until Adelia bought you with some empty promises and teenage delusions.” His voice grew sharp. “So tell me… did betraying them feel worth it?”

Falcon Ling trembled. Shame flickered across his face.

But he couldn’t answer.

Valent stood and glanced at Adelia.

She backed away in terror.

“No… no—stay away! Brother Chu Fan won’t forgive you! If you touch me—he’ll kill you!”

Valent’s smile grew colder.

“Your Chu Fan isn’t here.”

He stepped closer.

“And your protagonist halo doesn’t work on me.”

Adelia screamed again.

Valent stopped directly in front of her.

She shook violently, blood dripping down her neck, mixed with tears and rage and terror.