Penguin Logistics' ability to establish itself in Lungmen was not merely because the Emperor, its founder, had "connections."
It was also because almost everyone who went on field missions for Penguin Logistics possessed top-tier combat strength—each one capable of fighting ten ordinary people.
Whether by coincidence or by design, the team's external performance in combat was consistently far stronger than the so-called "professionals" mixed into gangs and the underworld.
They moved fast. Their execution was precise. They reliably put every enemy on the ground—and they did it without ever violating Lungmen's criminal law.
Administrative fines for public order violations might still happen, of course, but that was "normal."
For example, right now—under Sora's ethereal singing—countless shadows were silently fighting in the forest outside the building.
Texas and Croissant flickered in and out of view among the trees, and the outcome was brutally one-sided.
Texas, the mysterious Columbian with unknown origins, displayed swordsmanship that was both sharp and terrifying—each strike carrying the stink of real killing intent, as if every move was meant to take a life.
And Croissant, in the eyes of the Forte, was outright monstrous in raw strength: a chain hammer weighing tens of kilograms and an equally heavy riot shield looked weightless in her hands.
Put those two together, and the Columbian gang remnants who came to attack were basically candles in the wind—quickly split apart, cut down, and cleaned out.
Even if one or two slipped through, that bored red-haired figure on the banquet hall balcony—watching the scenery with nothing better to do—would silently fire a shot and end it.
In small-scale street fighting, Penguin Logistics could even be said to outclass some "legitimate" companies' private armies.
That was why so many people kept watching them.
A music producer, and a team cobbled together by luck and bizarre coincidence—yet they somehow formed a powerful tactical unit. That reality made many suspect something was wrong.
Until one person appeared, resolving much of the confusion.
Many wondered whether this person was simply a scapegoat, carrying blame for the Emperor's already volatile temperament.
But when people met him, they often became convinced that the whole situation truly revolved around him.
Li Lin. Penguin Logistics' "Director of Direction." A civilian office worker.
A thin, frail-looking man, eyes hollow, posture perfectly composed—mysterious in a way that made people uneasy.
His race was unknown. His Originium Arts were unknown. His background was unknown.
He spoke multiple languages, carried knowledge across many fields, and described secrets as if reading from an index.
And now—in the most private room of this noisy banquet—the Rat King, hair and beard both white, had finally "confirmed" the man's identity.
"A Cyclops."
The Rat King pulled out a document and smiled at his daughter, who sat across from him with a tightly furrowed brow.
His daughter had always been refined, elegant, with a calm, mature composure. She rarely changed expression over anything—and she did not particularly like his line of work.
But after that rainy night, Lin Yuxia had shown unusual agitation and aggression, actively requesting to search for and take over matters related to his business.
The Rat King found that deeply reassuring. It made him believe the man had truly understood his meaning.
He wanted to retire in this city. So did his daughter. But to gain trust, one must always pay something.
To stir interest with only a few words—truly worthy of the legendary bloodline.
"Cyclops… a lone Cyclops?" Lin Yuxia frowned. "So short? That doesn't match the records. Dad, are you messing with me?"
"Messing with you?" The Rat King chuckled. "Child, do you realize the last records of Cyclopes are more than a hundred years old? For a very long time now, Cyclopes have been a legend."
"Then how can you confirm Li Lin is actually that?"
"We can't."
Seeing his daughter's face darken, the Rat King continued, still smiling.
"The mediocre follow crowds; the strong walk alone. Those who dare leave the herd often have something extraordinary."
"He knows too much—he's clear on how things develop, and he is profoundly pessimistic about the future. That aligns extremely well with Cyclops legends."
"Cyclopes have many Arts, but there is one common thread: foreknowledge of the future. According to records, some exceptionally gifted Cyclopes possess no other Arts at all—only the pursuit of future sight."
"But what they see is calamity. So their view of both future and present is unbearably pessimistic, to the point of self-destruction."
"And he chose to spend his remaining life in Lungmen… and that 'self-destruction incident' that happened to him recently—heh. Doesn't that suggest something?"
Lin Yuxia silently studied the document, thinking for a long time, unable to deny that her father's argument had logic.
Not long ago, they had observed Li Lin's mental state as dangerously unstable—as if he had fallen into breakdown and despair.
Even the hotel bar staff could tell the man had reached his limit. When he spoke with Sora, he was already slipping into hallucinations.
And now he seemed "fine" again—interacting normally with Sora, no obvious confusion or fear.
That too matched certain descriptions of the "Cyclops foreknowledge phase."
Combine that with his actions before the breakdown, his current quietness, his rainy-night words—
Everything pointed to one conclusion:
A lone Cyclops—someone who had truly seen fate.
And he chose Lungmen.
When the Rat King fully grasped what that meant, he even entered a state of near ecstasy.
"We were right. In the future, we will do very well, my daughter. And he didn't go to Wei Yenwu—he came to us, and to the Emperor. That proves we're the correct side."
Stroking his beard, the Rat King looked at his still-skeptical, frowning daughter and laughed softly.
"I just wonder what this Cyclops will see next. It's truly something to look forward to…"
Meanwhile, Sora's performance ended. Under the audience's polite applause, Lungmen's idol quickly lifted her gown and slipped away from the hall, returning to the backstage shadows to regroup with Penguin Logistics.
And when Li Lin saw her—her bare, smooth back, her posture unusually poised and dazzling, and because she had run over, the curve of her chest faintly visible—
He performed a "courteous" up-and-down glance, stored the figure away in his mind, and nodded lightly.
"Sora, your performance was excellent. And that outfit suits you very well—it really fits you."
"Really?!" Sora beamed. "Then I'll wear it every day while I practice piano so you can see it, senpai!"
"That won't be necessary," Li Lin said with difficulty. "In fact, please don't."
And with the idol enthusiastically grabbing his hand, he struggled to refuse.
....
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