C2 The Man Wanted to Strangle Her to Death!

Bang!

The crystal coffin lid was forcibly pushed open and flung aside.

Yuvyuv's eyes blazed with a murderous intensity as she glared fiercely toward the platform. Her delicate, pale fingers were about to point accusingly at the man when she suddenly noticed something strange.

Wait, these hands, are they hers?

How could they be so soft and fair, like those of a pampered young lady who never did a day’s work? Before everything fell apart, she might have believed these were her hands. But after all she had been through, especially being thrown into the military by that devil of a man, she knew better. Her hands, though beautiful, bore the calluses of years spent gripping guns and enduring harsh training.

This isn't right.

Wasn't she dead? Wasn't this the afterlife? She had taken a bullet for that devil of a man, dying so he could live!

Then, a flash of insight hit her as she scanned the old underground black market around her.

She blurted out, "This is the Night Paris cabaret, just like twenty years ago. I... I'm not dead!"

On the platform, a man in a deep blue, military-style uniform, exuding an air of restraint, locked his cold eyes on the girl in the crystal coffin. His long, well-defined fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest of his chair.

After a moment, his thin lips parted, "Buy her and send her to my private residence."

"Sir, you want her? But she looks like the Fifth Miss Ye," the adjutant said, surprised, cautiously glancing at his master.

His master had always been indifferent to women. To put it simply, he never spared a glance at any woman outside, and he kept them at least ten feet away. Once, a woman who didn’t know better got too close and accidentally touched him. He had her hand chopped off. If it hadn't been for the old lady’s birthday that day, the young lady’s hand might not have been spared.

"What's up? Eating a lot today, and now you're talking a lot too?" the man said in a cold, deep voice.

The aide quickly responded, "I wouldn't dare, sir. I'll take care of it right away."

He glanced towards the crystal coffin, thinking to himself, Wow, the young master finally shows interest in a woman, and it's the one lying in the coffin. She's quite the troublemaker.

The aide felt conflicted but knew better than to speak further, given the young master's stern expression. He hurried out.

At this moment, Yuvyuv was fully awake. She had been reborn, back to when she was eighteen, a time when she was notorious for making reckless decisions. It was also when the troubles began.

At the Night Paris Dance Hall, she was knocked out, kidnapped, taken to the black market, and thrown into a coffin for auction—the start of all the Ye family's misfortunes.

First, her eldest sister met a tragic end on a train, then her father's gold scandal broke, leading to the Ye family's downfall.

Yuvyuv shivered, cold to the core. Panic flashed in her eyes, and she bit her lip so hard it bled. Her voice trembled, "Sister, big sister, I have to save her!"

Images of her sister's tragic death flashed through her mind. Her sister's body covered in blood, the once pristine white dress embroidered with lotus flowers now stained red. Blood everywhere.

Her sister's eyes, wide open in death, stared coldly towards the phone, her broken fingernails gripping the receiver, her lips, a ghastly purple, parted as if she desperately wanted to say something.

Her sister died because of her. It was her reckless actions that caused it.

"Oh, sister, I caused your death!" Yuvyuv cried out, sitting up sharply.

The thin veil covering her slipped, revealing her delicate figure. The men in the surrounding stands immediately ogled her, their eyes filled with lust.

At that moment, a large military uniform dropped from above, covering Yuvyuv completely. A man in uniform flipped and jumped directly into the center of the scene. His imposing figure, exuding an intimidating aura, bent down to scoop up the panic-stricken Yuvyuv. With long strides, he carried her away.

The surrounding area fell silent; no one dared to intervene. Who would dare risk it? Didn't they notice the gun at the man's waist? It wasn’t just any gun; it was a Browning, the kind only high-ranking officers carried. Moreover, the man’s aura was one of hardened experience, the kind that anyone with eyes could see came from real battles.

In these chaotic times, no amount of money or influence could stand against a soldier's gun. No one was foolish enough to step forward and question him. Even the black market overseers didn’t dare to stop him, so why would any outsiders, just here for a good time, think they could?

The man carried Yuvyuv out of the underground market and stopped by a military Jeep parked outside the dance hall.

"Put me down, you jerk! What are you doing?" Yuvyuv shouted as the cold wind outside woke her up. She yanked the uniform off her head and yelled at the man in front of her. Her small, pale face turned up defiantly as she poked a finger at his solid chest. "Huo Lingxiao, I’m warning you, I don’t owe you anything now. In fact, you owe me a life, Huo Lingxiao."

In her anger, Yuvyuv momentarily forgot she had been given a second chance at life.

"Oh? Are you sure?" The man chuckled, his handsome face looking particularly cold and alluring under the streetlight. Suddenly, he let go.

Yuvyuv fell to the ground, wincing in pain. "Huo Lingxiao, you jerk!"

The next second, a cold hand gripped her slender neck. The man’s dark eyes glinted with a chilling light. "Girl, you sure talk a lot."