At four in the afternoon, the place was in that dead-still lull between meal rushes.

The whole area was basically one giant construction zone, and this little stir‑fry shop was squeezed right in the middle of it. It wasn’t filthy or anything, but yeah… definitely not the kind of environment anyone would call nice.

Still, the owner’s cooking? Absolutely top-tier.

Tyler Azrael was shoveling food in like he’d been starving for days, and only when he was almost done did he finally lift his head. He sneaked a look at the man sitting across from him—his boss, Vincent Lancaster—who looked hilariously out of place in a spot like this.

Tyler had noticed the moment they walked in that Vincent’s gaze kept drifting toward the front left corner.

No—drifting wasn’t even the word. The guy was staring, laser-focused, brows all scrunched up.

If it were anyone else, Tyler wouldn’t think twice.

But Vincent was famous for not giving a damn about anything. Ever.

So this? This was weird. And Tyler’s curiosity was practically clawing at him.

He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He followed Vincent’s line of sight and turned to look.

One glance, and Tyler froze.

When they came in earlier, he’d been too hungry to care about anything besides food, so he totally missed the young girl sitting by the roadside—dressed in white… well, technically in ancient-style clothes.

At her feet stood a piece of cardboard—clearly torn right off a delivery box—with a few lines written on it.

The handwriting was actually pretty classy, strokes clean and confident… but the content? Yeah, that part was something else.

Three lines on the front—

Master of Divine Fortunes

Relationship, Wealth, Career

Everything answered—just expensive!

Tyler couldn’t help it. A snorty little laugh slipped out.

And right then, a gust of wind swept by, knocking the cardboard over with a slap.

As it flipped, Tyler spotted more writing on the back—three more lines:

Hua Tuo Reborn

Specialized in fixing all kinds of bizarre problems,

and still charges a pretty penny for it.

The girl’s face was clean as a sheet of new paper, not a trace of makeup, yet she was so stunning that it stopped people in their tracks. Tyler Azrael had seen at least hundreds of beautiful women over the years, maybe even more, but he still couldn’t help shouting in his mind, Wow, she’s gorgeous.

Hands down the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. No competition.

Maybe the girl noticed the two men sneaking glances her way. She lifted her lids just a little, shot them a quick look, then dropped her gaze again. With her chin resting in both hands and her shoulders slumped, she looked like someone whose mood had hit rock bottom.

Tyler Azrael finally broke. A snort of laughter slipped out before he could stop it. He turned to his boss and said, “Mr. Lancaster, this is killing me. She’s so young, but her way of thinking is seriously… something else.”

Ramona’s ears were sharp—way sharper than normal people’s.

That laugh was loud enough to shake dust off the ceiling; of course she heard it.

And she absolutely knew he was laughing at her.

She bent down to pick up the paper she’d dropped, then straightened and headed toward the two of them.

Tyler Azrael’s laugh died instantly, stuck halfway out like it had been yanked by the collar. When Ramona shot him a sideways glance, his heart instantly tightened.

Wait—was she coming over to beat him up?

He quickly peeked at Vincent Lancaster across from him, then shot to his feet, putting on a whole “fine, hit me if you must, but don’t touch my boss” stance.

Ramona was startled by his sudden movement.

She looked up—and ran straight into Tyler Azrael’s tense, ready-for-battle expression. She froze, baffled, and asked tentatively, “You… want to hit me?”

Tyler Azrael blinked in confusion.

Wasn’t she the one who looked ready to throw a punch? She even had her fists clenched. Who exactly looked more like they were about to start something here?

Her tone was sharp, posture fierce, like she could take down three people without losing breath.

Vincent Lancaster gave Tyler Azrael a small look, signaling him to sit.

Only after Tyler Azrael reluctantly sat back down—still watching the girl like she might pounce any second—did Vincent Lancaster shift his gaze to Ramona and ask, “You need something from me?”

Ramona just shrugged like it was no big deal. "Boss, wanna get a reading? First customer today, I’m not charging 9999, not even 999. Just buy me a meal and we’re good."

Right after she said that, she noticed the man in the wheelchair staring at her. She lifted her gaze to meet his.

Some people just carry a vibe that doesn’t match the place they’re in. This guy was one of them. He wore a sharp, perfectly tailored suit, his hair slicked back without a single strand out of place. One look and you could tell he was the type who handled things fast and clean—maybe even a bit of a neat freak.

Even though his legs weren’t working and he was sitting in that wheelchair, the aura of someone used to being in charge still leaked out of him, impossible to hide.

His face was almost unreal-level handsome, paired with eyes shaped just seductive enough to catch attention—but somehow filled with a chilly gloom.

With eyes like that, one lazy glance could make anyone’s heart skip for all the wrong reasons.

Yet right now, those eyes on Ramona didn’t feel threatening at all. Instead, it was like he was staring through her, lost in some memory.

But Ramona wasn’t in the mood to figure out his weird gaze. She quickly pulled her attention back and thought for a second. If she wanted a meal, she had to look a little pitiful. So she raised three fingers. "I just got here, and I haven’t eaten for three days."

Tyler Azrael’s eyes went wide at that, completely shocked. He blurted out, "You’re that broke? You can’t even afford a meal?"

"I did have money!" Ramona spread her hands helplessly as she said it. "I picked up junk for half a day and made ten bucks. Then I saw someone at the bridge making money telling fortunes, so I figured I’d try it too."

Her tone was still pretty calm up to that point.

But the moment she went on, she practically rolled her eyes into the next dimension.

"Who knew I’d run into some shameless old creep? He asked me to read his palm, and when I asked for payment, he tried to drag me to his place instead—talking all kinds of disgusting crap. I got so pissed I beat him up, and the last ten bucks I had ended up becoming his ‘medical fee’."

Luckily, Ramona ran fast. Otherwise, the disgusting old man probably would’ve tried to squeeze even more money out of her after getting punched.

Thinking about losing that ten bucks didn’t even make her that mad anymore. With how hard she’d hit him, she was pretty sure ten bucks wouldn’t even cover a bandage at the hospital.

But if anyone asked who was the unluckiest person alive right now? Ramona felt she’d easily take first place.

Not just unlucky—flat-out broke.

This was already her fourth day back in the twenty-first century.

She originally lived here, but three years ago, after surviving a freak accident, she somehow ended up in the cultivation world.

There, a master who calculated she had fate with a new disciple picked her up and brought her into Wufang Valley, making her the youngest disciple of the sect.

Just after arriving at Wufang Valley, Ramona was practically smothered by a crowd of senior uncles, senior brothers, and senior sisters who kept dragging her off to practice. That place was totally cut off from the world, and time there flew like sand slipping through your fingers. Before she even wrapped her head around it, a whole century had passed, and she had never once stepped outside the valley.

During those hundred years, Ramona was always the treasured little junior sister. In the cultivation world, turning a hundred basically meant you’d just hit adulthood, so to everyone there, she was still that soft, pampered kid they loved to spoil.

But who could have guessed that one heavenly tribulation would straight-up zap her back to the twenty‑first century?

And the wildest part? Only three short years had passed here since the day she vanished.

Getting blasted back to modern society by lightning—Ramona wouldn’t have believed it even in her dreams.

Back then, afraid the heavenly lightning would fry her magical artifacts, she’d taken off every treasure she could remove. So when she got thrown back, she landed here totally broke, nothing left but her bare hands.

Her spiritual abode, which was tied to her very soul, did manage to travel with her. But the tribulation had squeezed every drop of spiritual energy out of her, leaving the abode completely sealed. Without enough energy, she couldn’t even crack it open.

Right now, the most valuable thing she had was the white robe on her body. But in this modern world with zero spiritual energy, it was basically just an unusually durable outfit. Nothing more.

And the worst part? She had stopped eating mortal food ages ago, relying entirely on spiritual energy. Now that she had none left to support her body, she actually felt hungry. Hungry!

She couldn’t believe it—of all the things to experience again, why did it have to be this?