Uwe's face twisted with hatred when she said she wanted to kill me—even her eyes burned with malice. Yet I bore no grudge against her; we'd never even met before.
"Is it because Hames wants me dead?" I asked. I had already guessed 80-90% of the situation. If not for Hames, there was no reason for a woman to come all the way to Southeast Asia just to kill me.
Uwe nodded. "Yes!"
"Why? If he betrayed you, go kill him! What does that have to do with me?" I felt wronged. You can't blame the knife seller when someone stabs you—the one holding the knife is the real culprit. Sure, I destroyed Uwe's Kuman Thong, but that wasn't my fault!
I wasn't the one who slept with her. I wasn't the one who hurt her. So why should I be the one to die?
"Because we Kuman Thong masters have rules. If someone breaks a Kuman Thong we've given, we can't trouble that person anymore. So I have no choice but to come after you." Uwe explained.
This kind of rule isn't uncommon—it even exists in our side of the Yin-related dark arts. Why? Because if someone breaks your spell, it means they're stronger than you. At that point, you should back off. If you keep fighting, you'll only end up dead.
But Hames's case was different. I was the one who broke his Kuman Thong—meaning I was the master she shouldn't mess with, not Hames. Yet instead of targeting him, Uwe came for revenge against me. These were the rules of a brain-dead fool—no wonder she got cheated on and abandoned.
Her IQ was completely inversely proportional to her looks! But no matter what I said, she wouldn't listen. She was dead set on killing me!
I saved Hames—so I deserve to die?
"Tonight, only one of us walks away. No more talking." Uwe said, though she frowned slightly as she glanced at the little ghost at Stella's feet. After all, the spirit she had sent had been defeated.
"Tch. Getting hurt by a scumbag but not daring to take revenge on him—instead taking it out on others? I despise women like you the most. Take your little ghost and get lost, or I won't hold back." Stella pulled out her peachwood sword and kicked the little ghost back toward Uwe.
Truthfully, the ghost was already on the verge of death. Burned by talisman fire and impaled by the peachwood sword, most of its body was crippled, its soul severely damaged. Survival was practically impossible.
Uwe stared at the dying ghost, then suddenly smiled. She picked it up with one hand and removed her black-patterned gloves. Her exposed hands were pale and smooth, but etched with strange spells.
With a slight squeeze—bang!—the little ghost didn't even have time to scream before instantly turning into white ash and a puddle of black water.
"Ashes to ashes—how cruel!" I muttered helplessly. That little ghost had been raised by Uwe; she was its master. There was nothing we could do if she treated it this way. What good would it do to condemn her? Besides, I didn't even want to say anything—after all, we were the ones who had beaten it half to death.
"Useless trash. If you can't finish the job, what's the point of keeping you around? Should've done it last night, but you had to get greedy." Uwe wiped the disgusting stains from her hands, not even sparing the ghost a glance.
At first glance, I had thought Uwe was just some naive girl who'd been cheated on and came seeking revenge, consumed by love and hate. But now it was clear—she wasn't simple at all. She was ruthless. No wonder no one in Southeast Asia dared to help Hames.
"I don't care what grudges you have with others. I'm just doing normal business. No matter what, someone else's debt shouldn't fall on my head. If I've harmed your interests, I apologize. Antonio, see our guest out." I barked.
Antonio could tell Uwe was no pushover. He didn't dare get too close, merely making a "please leave" gesture from a distance.
"Hmph. I'm not just here to kill you. All three of you will die tonight. Do you have any idea how much it cost me to raise that ghost?" Uwe snarled—but then, shockingly, she bowed and softly added, "I'm very sorry."
She was unnervingly feminine—not the kind of fierce that comes from rage, but a calculated, womanly ferocity. Her expression even carried a girlish softness, her tone fluctuating between strong and weak.
"Get out, or I won't be polite. Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're a woman," Antonio warned again.
Uwe had no intention of leaving. After bowing, she suddenly threw a punch at Antonio, who barely managed to block with both arms.
At first, I didn't take it seriously. How could one woman overpower Antonio? Not even a group of men could!
But to my shock, after three punches from Uwe, Antonio actually staggered back several steps. He unbuttoned his shirt, fists clenching tightly—dead serious.
No way. Is Antonio actually treating her as a real threat? His expression was grave, as if he were facing a formidable opponent.
"A Muay Thai master? It's been a while since I've met a real challenge," Antonio said, intrigued.
Muay Thai? So Uwe was using Muay Thai? She must have real skill. I'd heard Muay Thai was brutally effective—if she was an expert, this could be a real fight for Antonio.
Antonio stopped holding back. His fists struck like lightning, each punch carrying terrifying force—even lifting Uwe's bangs. Yet she dodged every blow, countering with even faster, heavier strikes.
After dozens of exchanges, fine beads of sweat glistened on both their foreheads. I was sweating too—they'd already smashed half the room. Every punch they threw felt like a physical blow to me.
"Antonio, stop playing around and finish this, or everything in this house will be destroyed," I said, my heart aching at the thought.
Antonio nodded in understanding. In one swift motion, he leaped forward and kicked at Uwe's face.
This time, Uwe didn't dodge. Instead, she threw a punch to counter. With a heavy thud, their attacks collided. The difference in power became immediately apparent - the impact sent Uwe stumbling backward. Clearly, Antonio was superior in strength.
After this exchange, Uwe began losing ground. Her stamina seemed to be failing, and she could no longer match Antonio's power.
Antonio quickly gained the upper hand, cornering her before delivering a powerful punch to her lower back. Finally, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall.
Defeated, Uwe hung limply in Antonio's grip, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
"Stop struggling or I'll snap your neck like a twig," Antonio growled. "Mr. Roger, what should we do with her?"
What could I possibly do? Let her go, of course. I couldn't just kill her - that would be illegal. At most, we could rough her up before releasing her, but there was no point in that.
If we wanted to punish her more severely, the best option would be handing her over to Hames. After all, she was the one who gave him the Kuman Thong. If she fell into Hames' hands... well, the consequences would likely be extremely unpleasant.