Chapter Four: The Illusory Butterfly, God of Assassins

Arrogance, envy, wrath, lust, greed, gluttony, sloth—humanity’s seven deadly sins found their perfect stage in this night auction. After all, this was the most extravagant auction held by the world’s maddest platform.

From the very first lot, every item was a treasure, every possession was worth more than gold. Yet Xue Tian’ai merely watched the frenzied shouts and desperate bidding, calmly observing the ever-changing array of goods below, without the slightest urge to join in.

Behind the radiant goddess butterfly mask, nothing betrayed Xue Tian’ai’s expression. In truth, her thoughts had drifted entirely back to a decade ago.

Ten years prior, at fifteen, driven by hatred, Xue Tian’ai left China alone and arrived in Europe. To conceal her identity, she adopted the guise of the goddess butterfly mask and a black suit, becoming a figure in Europe’s underworld. It was then that she first encountered Chips—a platform of pure madness.

At just fifteen, she took countless contracts as a novice assassin on Chips, completing each assignment with unpredictable and ingenious methods, impossible to guard against, her mastery of the butterfly knife almost supernatural.

She soared to the top three of the annual assassin rankings, second only to the legendary killers King and Jesus. That year, Chips became her grand stage, offering her a place to dance and shine.

That year, Xue Tian’ai earned a new title: Phantom Butterfly. Compared to King and Jesus, her moniker carried an air of greater mystery.

The title was bestowed officially by Chips, while King and Jesus had chosen their own. In an instant, Phantom Butterfly had countless admirers. Many yearned to glimpse the young, enigmatic assassin from the East, to catch a glimpse beneath the goddess butterfly mask.

It was said that even a British princess once offered a hundred million pounds just to spend a night with Phantom Butterfly, but in the end, she never succeeded.

A year later, at sixteen, Xue Tian’ai attended the Night Auction for the first time as a specially invited guest of Chips, earning the coveted Black Gold membership card. It was this Night Auction that elevated her reputation to dazzling new heights—

That winter, the Man Kaman Islands lay beneath a thin blanket of snow, the exclusive Night Club illuminated brightly, everything seeming unchanged from the past. Yet only those present at the auction knew how surreal and extravagant it was.

“Ladies and gentlemen, regretfully, tonight’s Night Auction is nearing its end. All treasures have found their owners, and I hope everyone has obtained what they desired,” intoned the host—not the flamboyant Red Sister of today, but a French gentleman in a sharp suit. He paused, then continued, “At the very end, we have the special segment for our assassins and mercenaries!”

This was the tradition, the usual practice: every auction concluded with a bounty for assassins.

The bounties presented at the auction were usually high-difficulty, high-reward contracts—S or SS level, rarely seen on Chips. They attracted only the most capable assassins, mercenaries, and assassin syndicates.

The bidding for these bounties was simple and crude: whoever promised to complete the task in the shortest time would win.

But only those willing to gamble their lives—assassins and mercenaries with nothing to lose—were drawn to this segment.

So when the host made his announcement, many business moguls and entrepreneurs began to rise, knowing the bounty bidding was not for them; their role was merely to issue bounties to eliminate rivals. The real work belonged to killers and mercenaries.

Yet the next words froze everyone in place.

“Tonight’s bounty: SSS difficulty, fifty billion dollars, starting bid—thirty days!”

SSS difficulty?! The entire auction hall was stunned; no one could believe their ears. Silence reigned for a moment.

Throughout history, the highest bounty ever issued on Chips or the Night Auction had been SS+, completed only by King and Jesus working together a decade ago. That feat earned them the title of King of Killers.

Now, an SSS-level bounty appeared at this auction!

After a moment of stunned silence, the host coughed awkwardly and repeated, half-joking, “Yes, SSS difficulty. I didn’t misspeak. Ladies and gentlemen, are you disconnected, or is our club’s Wi-Fi malfunctioning?”

Confirmation spread: the Night Auction had, indeed, introduced an unprecedented SSS bounty. The hall erupted in excited shouts.

Most of the shouting came from the business crowd, eager to watch the spectacle. But all the assassins and mercenaries remained silent, knowing the magnitude of SSS difficulty—it was no joke.

Their silence infected the businessmen, who gradually quieted, questions forming in their minds: had the SSS difficulty become near-impossible?

(A brief explanation: bounty difficulty is graded from D, C, B, A, S, SS, up to SSS. S means facing dozens at once, SS is a hundred, SSS is one against an entire group.)

The club grew quiet, awkwardly so. It was meant to be the killers’ showcase, yet none dared speak.

The assassins’ embarrassment at their own hesitation was palpable—utterly humiliating.

The surveillance cameras were at a loss, unsure whom to focus on.

No one bid; no one stepped forward. The cameras landed on King, who, sensing their gaze, could only shrug helplessly.

Then they shifted to Jesus, who pointed at King, then at himself, and spread his hands in surrender.

With King and Jesus silent, many assassins looked uneasy. This was no showcase—it was a silent slap to their faces.

The most notorious desperados, not a single one dared stand up. The cruelest killers lacked even the courage.

Silence, deep and prolonged.

The host felt the tension, repeatedly raising and lowering the microphone, unsure what to say without offending these legendary killers.

Just as the French host gritted his teeth, ready to declare the auction closed, a crisp bidding bell rang—a modest sound, but it drew every eye. The cameras hurriedly turned.

Everyone was curious about the source.

A man in a black suit appeared, about six feet tall, his face hidden behind an ornate butterfly mask.

Sixteen-year-old Xue Tian’ai, who had just pressed the bidding bell, felt the weight of the attention and was slightly surprised. He stood and said, puzzled, “Sorry, I was in the bathroom. How’s the bidding? I bid seven days—is that the shortest time?”

This left everyone dumbfounded. Was he confused? He went to the bathroom at such a crucial moment? Wait, he bid seven days?

Many recognized the butterfly mask, and some even shouted excitedly, “It’s Phantom Butterfly! Phantom Butterfly’s bidding!”

Phantom Butterfly—his name preceded him like the shadow of a tree. Though some had never seen him, all had heard the legend: a prodigy who reached the top three in the assassin rankings in just a year!

The whole hall was suddenly ablaze. The atmosphere, after so much silence, soared.

A few assassins shook their heads quietly—this task was impossible, and Phantom Butterfly’s bid was tantamount to suicide.

But most were caught up in excitement, as if witnessing history.

The host paused, immersed in the chaos, then hurriedly asked, “Mr. Phantom Butterfly, are you sure you want to bid seven days? Do you have any partners?”

Xue Tian’ai replied calmly, “Yes, seven days. I have no partners—just myself. Is there a problem?”

The host steadied himself, trembling as he raised the gavel: “SSS bounty, seven days, first call!”

He paused—the hall’s fever rising, but still no counter-bids. He continued, “SSS bounty, seven days, second call!”

Another pause—his hand now shaking violently: “SSS bounty, seven days, third call! Sold!” As his words fell, the hall erupted at its loudest peak.

Whether the SSS bounty could be completed or not, they had witnessed the first auction of such a task.

The winner was a lone individual, whereas the last SS+ had required King and Jesus together to barely succeed.

Amid the uproar, Xue Tian’ai quietly collected the task and departed.

Afterwards, Phantom Butterfly vanished from public sight—no trace, no news.

People, noting the anomaly, grew increasingly pessimistic. Conversations about that night gradually shifted from awe at Phantom Butterfly’s courage to regret for a talent lost too soon. More and more believed he would not survive.

Even King and Jesus started a betting pool on Chips, wagering solely on “whether Phantom Butterfly would return alive”—not on whether he would complete the task.

Many joined the pool, but 99.9% chose “Phantom Butterfly will not return alive.”

Days passed, and soon the seventh day arrived. Chips’ public announcements held no news of Phantom Butterfly. His admirers grew despondent.

Hour by hour, the seventh day slipped away—twenty-three hours gone.

As the final moments ticked by, most curious onlookers prepared to give up, stop refreshing the site. King even published an article mocking Phantom Butterfly.

Suddenly, Chips’ website refreshed—a massive red “celebrate” took over the screen.

Chips updated its announcement: a single picture and a sentence.

The picture was bloody—a giant sack filled with thousands of severed human ears. The text was simple: “Verified by the platform, congratulations to assassin Phantom Butterfly for completing the SSS bounty solo, becoming the first assassin ever to achieve an SSS task!”

One image, one sentence, yet it crashed Chips’ site. Clicks soared, online users and traffic skyrocketed in seconds.

Everyone was stunned. The 0.01% who had bet on Phantom Butterfly’s survival celebrated wildly, while others flooded King’s mocking article with attacks.

A night meant for peaceful sleep became as lively as daylight.

Xue Tian’ai said little, merely mischievously reposting the betting pool with a “F**K” gesture, then turned in for a deep sleep.

After all, in seven days he had slain nearly a thousand people—even for him, it was exhausting. He had no energy for the madness outside, no interest in Chips’ fevered activity.

After this event, people realized Phantom Butterfly had finally unfurled his deadly, bewitching wings and soared to the heavens.

From then on, Xue Tian’ai was no longer merely a prodigy assassin—his name was unified under a single title: God of Assassins.

And a saying spread at the time: “Double S crowns two kings, triple S births a god!”