I stood in front of the full-length mirror and took a moment to admire how beautiful my face was. Defined features, a firm jawline, and a captivating gaze... "It's perfect," I thought, as a look of absolute satisfaction spread across my face.

  But it sted less than a second before my expression turned sour.

  "Bastard," I muttered, gring at the cloud of mournful purple floating above my head.

  I had been wandering around the mansion like a madman for two days, analyzing the heads of everyone who crossed my path. And whether it was the gardener, the maids, or the driver... they all carried clouds of such a dull, opaque gray that it made me want to yawn. Ordinary people, with ordinary lives and mediocre luck. However, the few names I recognized—Boss Hong, Assistant Jian, or Supervisor Meng—had clouds of a clear blue color.

  As a good man of science (and with nothing better to do), I decided to conduct a small experiment. I grabbed a cleaning employee who had a gray cloud, sadder than a certain cat on Mondays and promoted her on the spot.

  "Eureka!"

  By the time she thanked me, the gray cloud above her head began to turn a very elegant shade of blue.

  ...

  After several tests—all equally useless—I reached an irrefutable conclusion:

  Luck is a fickle bitch... and I am a terribly unfortunate man, I thought, bringing a hand to my face and feigning the wiping of nonexistent tears.

  I tried everything. Absolutely everything.

  I repeated the same method over and over again in the hope of changing my purple luck.

  I bought a mansion in the best district of the city.

  I asked my father for relics, antiques, and supposedly "blessed" objects, each valued at hundreds of thousands. I even made donations to temples and served devoutly for two hours.

  The result?

  Not only did that damn cloud over my head not disappear...

  In fact, it seemed to have grown darker. I could even swear it was looking down on me with contempt.

  I gritted my teeth and raised my voice in my mind.

  ?Hey, system of s*! What the hell is going on? Why the f*** isn't it working??

  「 Ding! 」

  "I already warned you, master..."

  The mechanical voice sounded cheerful, even with a slight hint of satisfaction.

  「...You possess an extremely toxic Luck Cloud and cannot be purified by conventional methods.」

  I narrowed my eyes.

  The expnation was clear... and conveniently te.

  "Warn me?" I repeated under my breath. "Curious. I don't remember you mentioning anything while you watched me make a fool of myself over and over again."

  「 Ahem! 」

  "Correction, master: You observed the results, repeated the process, and still insisted. The system assumed you wanted to try. (￣ー￣)"

  "...

  I was speechless.

  The bastard had called me stubborn to my face—or worse, in my own mind—and before I could reply, he barged in again without the slightest shame.

  「 The only way to purify your luck is through System Points. 」

  The voice paused briefly, deliberately.

  As if savoring each sylble.

  「 By stealing the opportunities of those... blessed by the world. 」

  As soon as the system's voice faded away, I felt the st shred of resistance crumble inside me, taking with it all frustration and doubt... What remained was a strange and comforting calm.

  Then, a name naturally popped into my mind. "Lin Feng."

  "Oh, Lin Feng..." I whispered to myself with regret, as a slow, sinister smile spread across my face. "It's not that I want to hurt you; it's the world itself that is begging me to py the vilin."

  There was no trace of the disorder from before, only coldness.

  I reached for my jacket on the shelf with a fluid movement, slung it over my shoulder, and left the room.

  ***

  Longyuan Antique Market

  The car doors opened smoothly in front of the main entrance. The hustle and bustle of the market immediately filtered through. Next to me, Lin Hai got out of the car and stood a step behind me, his expression slightly sullen, alert out of habit.

  The square was crowded. Merchants touted "authentic" goods with conviction, while collectors and foreigners made their way through the makeshift stalls.

  The air had a slight smell of cheap incense, and the stalls were crowded. Still, I didn't need to look too hard.

  In the distance, among the sea of people, a greenish glow stood out clearly. It shone with a steady, confident intensity, as if telling the world, "Here I am."

  I walked in that direction without hesitation.

  With each step, the figure beneath that auspicious cloud became clearer. It didn't take me long to recognize him.

  Lin Feng.

  He was standing in front of a luxurious stall, very different from the makeshift stalls surrounding him. His posture was rexed, but his eyes were fixed on a finely crafted porcein vase that, to any mortal eye, was a relic of the ancient Ming dynasty.