Forge a path to success.

Chapter 269 Prologue: The Lone Serpent
“Sign here, my dear niece,” Uncle Lucas said.

Vilbert stared blankly out the car window.

Two hours ago the sky was clear, but now it's pitch black, not a ray of light in sight. The weather forecast says the biggest cold front in five years will make landfall today, with three days of torrential rain expected starting tonight. Many businesses have closed early, students are leaving school early, and even taxis have stopped operating. Everyone is rushing home; delivery drivers, still delivering packages, pull down their hats, clutch their takeout boxes, and hurry away.

Vilbert was still in the car; she had just attended her father's funeral.

On the return trip, halfway through, Uncle Lucas impatiently stopped the car and placed a pre-prepared contract in front of her. Men in suits stood guard around the Cadillac, forming an impenetrable wall with their pistols and daggers.

"My father wouldn't have done that," Wilbert thought. "He never used such grand methods. He was patient with everything, and when he wanted something, he would talk to me about it. He never asked for anything that wasn't his."

But Lucas wasn't that kind of man. He was foolish, short-sighted, and relied on brute force to solve problems; he was used to being an arrogant thug. Now he wanted to be an arrogant boss, and the only man who could stop him lay in a coffin with a fist-sized hole in his chest.

“Don’t make things difficult for yourself. This is not something you should be carrying.” Lucas smiled. “Outsiders, arms, blood alliances… business… you don’t really want to deal with these. They are like a huge, bloody monster. If you get too close, they will crush you to pieces inside and out.”

“I’ll take care of all this for you,” Lucas said. “Tell me, sign, and you’ll be free. I promise, your life will be just as good as before.”

The contract bore a blood-red emblem, detailing the transfer of the family head's rights. No country's law would recognize the signature of an 11-year-old, but the blood oath would acknowledge it. There, there were no laws, only power and blood.

“No,” Vilbert said.

Lucas sighed dramatically. He pulled out a beautiful pistol, a 1986 Beretta M92F, its grip modified with ivory. It was a tried-and-tested gun, capable of holding 18 rounds and accurately hitting vitals from fifty meters away.

Wilbert knew this weapon; it was her father's beloved gun. Many times, he would rub his thumb along the handle, telling her stories of his service in the Marines. Retired officers weren't allowed to take their sidearms out of the military, but her father always found a way. As he told his stories, his snake, the woman with the lightly drawn eyebrows, would chuckle softly beside him.

Now his snake is dead, and his beloved gun is in Lucas's hand, the muzzle pointed at his daughter.

“Little niece,” Lucas brandished his gun, “don’t push me too far.”

Vilbert simply kept repeating, "No."

Lucas sighed again. To outsiders, it was an unbelievable scene: he was a bloodthirsty underworld assassin, and sitting next to him was just a little girl in a black dress. But he was truly powerless; the family head's secret could only ever be known by one person, and that secret had already been passed on to Velvet. Even if he could effectively control all the family's wealth, without knowing the secret, he would never be the "family head" recognized by the Blood Alliance.

Lucas suddenly laughed, a laugh as sharp as a thick python flicking its tongue. He grabbed the contract and slowly tore it into scraps.

“You know what, Vilbert?” His eyes were filled with vengeful pleasure, “I don’t care about the Blood Pact at all. Staying away from outsiders is exactly what I want. Let the noble covenants have their own headaches. I have enough of this worldly money.”

“So whether you tell me or not makes no difference to me.” Lucas said gleefully, pressing the gun to the girl’s forehead. “I just want to see the look of despair on your face when you find out the truth.”

Is her expression one of despair? Perhaps she thinks she's hiding it well, but in Lucas's eyes, her fear and sorrow are already laid bare? Violet is unaware of reality; there is no mirror before her. With her last shred of pride, she raises her head, staring directly at the gun barrel and the gloomy sky behind it.

The girl's pupils suddenly contracted, and Lucas chuckled as he released the safety pin. Just then, a knock sounded at the window.

What news could have bothered him at this time?
Lucas turned his head, and to his surprise, it wasn't his men outside the window. A deliveryman wearing a baseball cap bent down and knocked on the window, a pizza box tucked under his arm.

He asked through the window, "Sir, is this the pizza you ordered?"

"What?" Lucas clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I didn't—"

Lucas froze. His men were keeping a close watch on the car; not even a fly could get close. How could that damned deliveryman be here? He had absolutely no reason to approach the car!

At that moment, the deliveryman knocked on the window again, his knuckles piercing the bulletproof glass as easily as piercing a sheet of paper. The intact glass shattered instantly, and his hand, emerging from countless shards, gripped Lucas, slamming his Adam's apple against the broken window!

"what--!!!"

Lucas screamed, the sudden trauma making his cry sound like a ridiculous duck. He couldn't see the deliveryman's face; his head was pinned to the edge of the car window, shards of glass forced through his throat.

Through his restricted vision, he saw the men in suits lying on the ground. In those few minutes, all his men had been killed, and he hadn't even heard a sound!
"you dare……"

He couldn't make a sound; his mouth was filled with blood and pain. He drew his gun, intending to threaten the man, but Velbert gripped the barrel tightly, preventing him from moving. The deliveryman casually slapped his wrist, causing the pistol to fall, which Velbert then seized.

The deliveryman pressed his head down and pulled him outwards; the man's strength reminded Lucas of a giant from the Bible. The Cadillac's door was ripped open, and the remaining glass, like a rusty box cutter, slowly slit Lucas's throat.

The deliveryman let go, and Violet hurriedly looked up. Lucas lay on the ground like an insect, blood gushing from his bright red wound, only to be diluted by the finally falling rain.

Lucas is dead.

The deliveryman got into the car and closed the door. The latch was damaged from his earlier forceful opening of the door and he couldn't fasten it properly. He had a never-give-up spirit and tried three or four more times until, with a thud, the rear door finally closed successfully.

Vilbert thought he had embedded the door into the car body.

"It's a really good car," the deliveryman said with satisfaction, though he didn't know why it was so good.

He skillfully started the engine, the wipers sweeping the road ahead into a white blur. He was already at 80 km/h, and a strong wind, carrying rain, blew into the car, slapping against Velbert's black dress along with shards of glass.

"Do you want pizza?" he asked again.

Without touching the steering wheel, he opened the takeout box with one hand. Inside was a 12-inch pizza, roughly cut into six large slices. He grabbed a slice and handed it to Vilbert.

"Try it, it's pretty good." She took the pizza, which was too big for her, piled high with cheese, potatoes, bacon, and large slices of mayonnaise. Cheap American fast food pizza, the kind of thing Italians look down on. She held it in both hands and took a small bite. Even in this cold weather, the pizza was still warm; the half-melted cheese flowed into her stomach, making her feel cozy.

“It’s delicious,” Vilbert said. “Thank you.”

"I bought this because I knew it was good," the deliveryman said, seemingly quite pleased with himself. "Of course that idiot didn't order takeout, because this was my dinner!"

Vilbert chuckled. A moment later, she realized she was crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking into her clothes, now stained from the wind and rain. The deliveryman took off his baseball cap and tossed it onto the back seat. He reached out as if to shield Vilbert from the rain, raindrops continuing to dance through his small fingers.

It was then that Violet realized he was actually quite young, with a head of black hair that was messy from the wind, and a relaxed smile on his exceptionally youthful face.

No, he was more than just young; he was practically a kid like me. It was only because he was wearing a loose-fitting delivery jacket that people mistook him for a short young man.

"...Do you have a driver's license?" she asked, almost as if possessed.

"Do you need to take a 'speaking test' before you speak?" The boy turned his head and looked at her.

"No, but..."

“No, but,” the boy whistled, “a person proves their ability through actions, not through external things.”

His English was unusually strange, each word uttered with a different accent, as if sentences were strung together from words stolen from different people. He slowed down as he spoke, and the wind and rain pouring into the car subsided. He stopped at a red light and ate his second slice of pizza; Vilbert was surprised that he actually obeyed the traffic rules.

"It's not safe for you to be out alone in this heavy rain," the deliveryman said while eating. "Where do you live? I'll take you home."

“I have no home anymore,” Vilbert said.

"Of course I have one. Home is where my family is." The deliveryman smiled.

“My last family member died three days ago.”

The deliveryman gritted his teeth and hissed. The traffic light turned green, but he remained gripping the steering wheel, while the truck behind him honked its horn furiously.

“Please find me a place to drop me off,” Vilbert said. “Thank you very much. Here, take the car.”

The deliveryman reached out and wiped her face. Violet was stunned for a moment before realizing that he was wiping away her tears.

"Little kid, please don't talk so ridiculously. If my old man heard about throwing away a little girl whose family was destroyed, he'd be furious enough to come back to life," the deliveryman sighed. "You must have a house, right? You drive such a nice car, you can't possibly not even own a place, can you?"

"The house is full of Lucas's men—"

The sudden increase in speed slammed her into her seat. The traffic light was about to change, and the Cadillac sped off at the last second, leaving the red light for the truck behind. The truck driver in the rearview mirror leaned out and cursed angrily, while the deliveryman whistled loudly.

"I'll see this through to the end, I guess I'm just having a bad day," he said. "I'll take you to your room and get rid of the rest of you while I'm at it. Then you can get some sleep, and I'll go home, okay?"

Violet stared at him blankly, tears streaming down her face again. He patted the girl's head with a distressed expression: "Boss, please, I've been so kind, can't you stop crying?"

"Mmm." Violet wiped away her tears vigorously. "Okay."

"That's a good boy/girl. What's your name?"

“Vilbert,” she said. “Vilbert Velus.”

"That's a nice name," the boy said. "My name is Chu Hengkong. I deliver packages. You can contact me if you need any deliveries in the future."

Much later, she learned that Chu Hengkong had no home, not even a single family member. Yet he acted with such confidence, as if countless people were supporting him from behind.

The boy, not much older than her, sat beside her, driving her car, promising to help her solve her problems. She had no basis for her belief, yet she was convinced that the promise would be kept, because he seemed so powerful.

Because he is omnipotent.

·
June, Candlelight Calendar 3001, Dustless Land.

The female secretary put down her umbrella and brushed the raindrops off her skirt. It was another rainy day. Ever since the wilderness was breached, the rainy season had become more frequent, making one worry about the future of the world.

The boss stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a cane and watching the rain. His female secretary stood silently by the door. Those who had worked with the boss for a long time knew her habits; she preferred quiet and wouldn't allow anyone to disturb her when she was thinking. She remembered everything clearly, and she was the only one who could give instructions without needing reminders.

On rainy days, this sensitive silence becomes especially pronounced. Only at these times will she stand for a long time in front of the rain, doing nothing but quietly watching the raindrops. Many people say this is because even a formidable person like the boss needs time to rest, but the female secretary doesn't think so.

She always felt that there was another person beside her boss, someone she couldn't see or touch, someone who existed like a dream in her memories. Her boss was especially quiet on rainy days because only then would that person's presence become clear, as if standing right beside her, watching the rain with her.

The boss turned around, and his secretary handed him a list: "Your materials are ready. After evaluation, the leadership believes your design is far too complex, and the process could take more than a month, which is extremely risky..."

“The transformation has begun,” said Vilbert Vellus.

(End of this chapter)