Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 352: Pride of the Phoenix Vs he Resonance of her Soul

Parker didn't know what the hell to expect when he walked into the living room. Chaos? Probably. Coexistence? That would've been luxury. But what he got wasn't either. It was stillness—unnerving, dead still. Not the kind of quiet that brings comfort, but the kind that makes you wonder who's pretending to be calm first. Like a storm paused mid-scream.

The Origin Families had taken their grand dramatics to the throne hall, leaving the real mess behind—his inner circle, his headaches, and his legacy. And now, every important piece on his board sat in that room, orbiting around silence like it was the only thing holding them together.

He appeared at the top of the staircase, Nyxavere at his side. The white of her dress shimmered faintly in the mansion's low light, her tiny hand wrapped around his like she'd never planned to let go. Parker's presence didn't come with weight—it came with absence.

He didn't announce himself. He didn't have to. It was the kind of stillness that made time twitch.

Most people didn't notice his arrival.

But Vivian? She noticed. And didn't care.

She barely looked up from where she sat, legs crossed, fingers scrolling her phone like this was a waiting room in hell and she was still bored. The only sign she acknowledged him at all was a blink. Then nothing.

Maya and Tessa were standing across from each other, not exactly close, but locked in some kind of visual cage match. Maya's stare was cold, like glass that'd cut if you leaned too close. Tessa's? Fire, molten with defiance. She didn't flinch, didn't look away. She never did. Parker could feel the animosity like static between them—electric, bitter, and fully charged.

What would happen if Cleopatra and Cassandra were added in his circle too?

Further into the room, Annabelle and Evelyn stood near one another, but only Evelyn looked composed. Annabelle? She was on edge, and Parker knew why. He shot her a look—just one. Barely a glance, but sharp enough to draw blood if she'd felt it fully. Nyxavere felt the shift immediately.

She turned to him, eyes gleaming with delight, and smiled like she already knew the plot he was building inside his skull. Daddy was definitely planning something. Probably awful. Probably illegal. Definitely poetic.

She squeezed his hand tighter, and Parker glanced down at her with a matching smile that didn't reach his eyes. There was only one reason he ever looked like that.

Someone was about to learn. Not the loud way. The slow way. The kind that rewrote your place in the world without ever raising a voice.

Nyxavere tilted her head slightly, still smiling. The room hadn't even realized it yet, but chaos had already started.

They were just waiting for the first name to be called.

What confused Parker wasn't Helena's presence, or even the disappearance of his maids from the living room. No, what actually made him blink—made him pause—was the presence of someone who, by all logic and historical pride, shouldn't have been here at all until he visited her himself!

Zhang Ruoyun.

The Phoenix.

The quiet, unreadable, beautifully cold girl with the Yin-Yang mark on her forehead and the kind of energy that made even time seem uncertain around her. She stood near Maya's group—not far from the epicenter of divine female friction—but not saying a word. Not posturing. Just... there.

Present.

That was the shock.

She had actually come to the mansion's living room?

To him?

Had she... come to greet him?

Had Zhang Ruoyun—Zhang fucking Ruoyun, who as he remembered in the past lived on silence and pride and the mystique of celestial detachment—actually swallowed her ancestral arrogance just to stand here and wait for him?

Or worse.

Had her family told her?

Did the Zhangs remember everything? Or had they sat her down and whispered truths in her ear—about him, and her, and the long, tangled blood-oath history that the world forgot but Parker never had the luxury to?

If they had told her, they must've done a hell of a job convincing her to come to great him herself.

Because in the past Zhang Ruoyun didn't just show up. She didn't go places unless they were threaded with purpose. Or if he asked her 'nicely.'

He stood there, trying to decode the intent in her stillness. But before he could spiral further into that thought, Nyxavere tilted her head, and leaned toward him with that mischief-laced, childish whisper that only she could pull off without it feeling out of place.

"Maybe the Phoenix... remembers," she said, her voice a gentle tease.

Before Parker could reply, she lifted one small hand and flicked her fingers.

A screen of white-gold light shimmered into existence in midair—crackling softly like magic made of breath. On it, the moments that had passed after Parker and Nyxavere disappeared replayed themselves.

The first frame?

Maya, complaining.

Her tone was aggressive, voice sharp, arms crossed—everything expected. But what filled the screen next caught them both.

Zhang Ruoyun's face.

Not stoic. Not cold. But... conflicted. Her brows knit together, eyes shimmering faintly behind her half-mask, her posture stiff—but not defensive. There was an almost imperceptible tremble in her hand. And her lips...

Parted just so slightly.

Like someone who had seen something.

Or someone who had been wronged by her lover? And it only happened because Parker didn't greet her and only took his daughter away.

Parker exhaled through his nose, watching the subtle look of emotion barely flicker across the Phoenix's expression.

Beside him, Nyxavere smiled. "She remembers," she whispered again.

And Parker replied in unison with her, his voice low but knowing: "She remembers."

They didn't speak again.

Nyxavere waved her hand, and the screen dissolved back into light, fading into nothingness..But the truth lingered between them like smoke after fire.

Zhang Ruoyun had come to greet him.

And that... meant everything.

But then—someone else caught his eye.

Not Maya. Not Tessa. Not even Vivian.

Her.

A woman he didn't recognize. Which was impossible, because Parker made it his business to know every single supernatural powerhouse in his vicinity—especially those bold enough to walk into his house.

Yet there she was.

Standing with her back half-turned near the hearth, tall, confident, wrapped in something velvet-dark and criminally form-fitting, with an hourglass figure that felt almost sculpted—hips like a curse, and a neckline that dipped low enough to start fights in lesser rooms. Her legs stretched long, one heel crossed over the other, and when she tilted her head to respond to someone nearby, red curls slid over her shoulder like slow-moving fire.

Everything about her was mature, refined, and somehow lethal.

And Parker?

His jaw dropped.

No control. No subtle reaction. Just raw, unfiltered awe, the kind that made his mouth go slack like a man who'd just seen God step off a runway.

Before he could even pretend to recover, Nyxavere giggled beside him.

"You're drooling, Daddy~" she whispered, and reached up with her tiny hand to push his chin closed like a little nurse handling an unconscious patient.

Parker blinked once.

Then slowly turned his head toward her with the kind of fatherly look that could silence empires but was useless on his daughter—the look that said I know exactly what this is called and I hate how right you are.

She just smiled wider, clearly enjoying herself.

He muttered under his breath. "I wasn't drooling."

"You were." Her voice was smug. "It's okay. I get it. She's hot. I would too... if I were you and as lustful."

Parker rolled his eyes, exhaled through his nose, and gave her a gentle bump with his elbow..But still—he couldn't stop glancing back toward the woman.

Who the hell was she?

And how the hell had he not known a woman that divine walked among his guests? fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Nyxavere whispered again, low and amused, "I think you've met your match, Daddy."

He didn't answer.