"Quit acting all pure. Didn’t I still get you in the end?"
"Move the camera closer! The sponsor wants a clear shot of her face!"
"Pretty girl, here I come..."
The greasy, disgusting voices drifted over. Vivienne Ashford’s head felt heavy and foggy. She forced her eyes open, only to meet a pair of filthy, lecherous eyes. Right in front of her was a fat, pockmarked face, pores huge, skin rough, the kind of face that made people sick on sight. The man looked to be in his forties or fifties, thick and bloated, and he was already leaning his heavy body down toward her.
In that instant, Vivienne’s eyes turned ice-cold. She shot out a hand, grabbed his wrist, and twisted hard. With a sharp crack of bone snapping, the man let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered, loud enough to shake the whole room.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the group clustered around the bed, all carrying cameras and equipment.
Where was this?
Why was she here?
"You little bitch, you dare hit me? What are you idiots standing there for? Grab her now!" The old pervert clutched his dislocated wrist, now swollen like a steamed bun, and cursed through gritted teeth.
The others rushed forward at once.
Vivienne let out a cold laugh. She was the ace assassin of the Ancient Martial Continent, the one people called the Grim Reaper. And these trash mobs thought they could handle her? Seriously?
She rose gracefully to her feet and rolled her wrists and ankles. A string of crisp cracking sounds came from her joints, the kind that made people’s scalps tingle.
The group swarmed her. Just as they were about to close in, Vivienne spun cleanly and drove out a sharp roundhouse kick, sending the man in front flying.
He had no time to react. The kick launched him back a full two meters. He crashed to the ground like a kite with its string cut and coughed up a mouthful of blood on the spot.
She turned sideways and caught another man’s incoming fist. Her pale hand looked slim and soft, almost delicate, but with one smooth twist, she used his momentum and hurled the burly man straight through the air and off to the side.
A few more charged at her, but in the blink of an eye, Vivienne either broke their hand bones or kicked them away. In no time, the whole room was filled with shrieks and miserable howls.
"You... this... this can’t be possible..."
The old man who had just tried to force himself on her stared with his eyes bulging wide. The folds of fat and wrinkles on his face trembled violently from pain and fear.
Wasn’t he told this woman was just a useless pretty face? This wasn’t a decorative vase. This was a straight-up monster.
Vivienne swept a cold glance over the mess in the room, then rubbed her throbbing temple. She picked up the fruit knife from the table and walked toward the old man lying on the floor, her gaze bloodthirsty and freezing cold.
The old man dropped to the floor, shaking so hard he could barely stay upright. He had never seen eyes that terrifying in his life.
Just as the cold, sharp blade was about to slice into his finger, he crashed to his knees and started begging like crazy, sweat pouring down his face. "Please, spare me! It was Adrian Blackwell who sent us here. We were just doing a job for money!
"Please, don’t kill me!"
Adrian Blackwell?
Vivienne Ashford frowned. Her head throbbed, heavy and dizzy, then a sharp pain tore through it like a live wire. A flood of unfamiliar memories slammed into her mind, scene after scene flashing past like a speed-run movie reel.
So she had been reborn.
Reborn into the body of a black-and-red, pretty-but-useless actress in the entertainment industry. This body’s owner was also called Vivienne Ashford. Two hours ago, she had caught her boyfriend, Adrian Blackwell, cheating with her so-called best friend, Imelda Robshaw. She walked in on them red-handed, but before she could do anything, that trash man and that fake friend teamed up, knocked her out, and even sent her to this disgusting old creep’s bed.
They wanted to ruin her completely.
"Heh."
Pulling her thoughts back, Vivienne Ashford held the fruit knife and lightly tapped the old man’s fat face with it, casual as if she were just passing time.