The azure liquid continued its silent descent, a luminous benediction from the ancient pool, a reward for completely absorbing the Silver Gene Essence within the allotted time—a recognition of latent potential written in soul and sinew. The energy belonged to her, a cool, potent river merging with the frantic, silver-hot currents still raging beneath her skin.
When that mellifluous, chilling voice spoke from behind, Yao felt no shock, no icy claw of terror. It was the sensation of the final, awaited shoe dropping onto a marble floor—inevitable, resonating.
She closed her eyes, drawing a slow, controlled breath, focusing on channeling the new, vast energies to soothe her violently remade genetics. "I had wondered," she began, her voice measured in the hushed chamber. "A basic Devouring Scroll's duality could fool elites in their forties or fifties, but not those at Li Jie's level. At first, their disinterest was my shield. Later, it should have failed. Yet, they saw nothing. The prison's scanning array at the preliminary selection gates… it too remained silent. I suspected an external factor."
She paused, the only sound the soft drip-dripof the azure stream into the now-clear water. "Was that factor you, Aunt? When you left the magma imprint in my palm… did you do something more?"
Behind her, Zhou Miao shifted. The silk of her skirts whispered against the chair as she recrossed her legs, one elegantly draped over the other. In one hand, she loosely held a rolled-up official missive; the other rested on the carved armrest. "A minor seal," she conceded, her tone that of someone discussing the weather. "Your basic scroll was… precarious. Had you been less… resourceful, it might have sufficed on its own."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "I simply didn't anticipate you would be thisresourceful."
Resourceful enough to make the truly powerful take note.The compliment, delivered with Zhou Miao's characteristic detached elegance, felt like a backhanded slap—praising not raw power, but cunning strategy. Yao, whose understanding of human nature was forged in ordinary, desperate worlds, found this heterodox psyche inscrutable. She abandoned attempts to decipher it, focusing instead on practical mysteries.
"So, it could block the perceptions of someone like Li Jie, but not Wei Ran. Because of his Blood Arcana?"
"The first and most important barrier it couldn't bypass was the Four Academies' admission scan—a system under the direct jurisdiction of the Imperial Education Ministry." Zhou Miao's explanation was clinical. "However, the system's core directive is to flag only Empire-wide wanted criminals or those with confirmed demonic corruption. Even non-humans are permitted to test. In other provinces, examinees of a hundred strange races are commonplace. Your particular… somatic arrangement doesn't even register as an anomaly to its protocols."
"As for Wei Ran, your assumption is correct. Blood Arcana's pinnacle arts involve somatic reconstruction and hematic metamorphosis. Your scroll, though crude, facilitated a fusion of two baseline human forms—a matter of blood and flesh. The traces remain. He cultivated Crimson Pupils. Not on par with the Orange-Grade Demon Orchid Ocular talents, but sufficient to perceive the irregularities in your blood. My seal merely cloaked the dual-body contract, the metaphysical link. High-level practitioners scanning you would seek talent signatures and contract rules, not somatic duplication—unless they were specifically looking for it."
The implication was clear: a targeted, physical examination by someone like Li Jie could still expose her.
Yao understood. This was the stark difference between the game's mechanics and the messy, nuanced reality of true arcane practice.
It also explained Zhou Miao's abrupt intervention. Had any other Xie elder taken custody of her first, the secret would be laid bare.
"Thank you, Aunt."
"If you're truly grateful," Zhou Miao mused, her gaze speculative, "you could turn around. I've yet to see your true form. I admit to some curiosity. Last time, I only perceived the duality."
The miniature Inferno Dragon at her feet lifted its head, its draconic features screwing up in an expression of profound skepticism. Since when does Master care about anyone's 'true form'? Usually, it's just 'identify and eliminate.'
Yao remained still for a long moment, the azure light playing over her draped shoulders. "Aunt, are you testing my temperament?" she asked, her voice cool. "My growth trajectory doesn't match that of a trash-planet slave. You might suspect the 'Oaks' persona is a fabrication, and you're probing the authenticity of my original self. Am I correct?"
Zhou Miao let out a soft chuckle. With a faint gesture of her finger, the robe lying nearby lifted and settled over Yao's back, covering the elegant lines revealed by the wet fabric. "A beautiful person told they are ugly will laugh it off, unbothered. A person who is genuinely ugly, when called so, will be wounded—because it is the truth."
Her words hung in the scented air. "The degree of sensitivity often mirrors proximity to the truth. Your defensiveness suggests you've already erected mental fortifications against perceived threats from me."
Pulling the robe tighter, Yao began dressing with deliberate slowness. "If our positions were reversed, you would likely be far more… vigilant than I."
"Perhaps." Zhou Miao indeed held no particular interest in the physical shell of another, regardless of gender. Her initial decision to spare this life had been born of simple surprise—surprise that a nobody from a garbage world would possess the audacity to attempt something as perilous as a Devouring Scroll.
"I can imagine desperation driving you to such a risk," she continued, as if thinking aloud. "But based on my understanding of scroll success rates—especially a makeshift, inferior version like yours—the odds were infinitesimal. Yet, you succeeded. That is the source of my… interest."
Yao's heart, a steady drum until now, gave a single, hard thump. This. This is what I feared.
"Your soul must be rather peculiar. And intriguing." Zhou Miao's tone was light, almost conversational, giving no indication she sensed Yao's internal alarm. Not that she would care. "However, as you are no longer a wholly disposable pawn for my amusement, a degree of… professional courtesy is warranted. I shall refrain from further inquiry."
She stood, the official missive vanishing into a fold of space. "You seem pressed for time. Heading to eliminate that little cockroach that troubles you? As a… apology for my earlier intrusion, Flame Drake can utilize spatial jumps to expedite your journey."
Yao understood. This wasn't sudden benevolence; it was an adjustment in treatment commensurate with her newly assessed value. The woman had a refined, ruthless grasp of social dynamics, a master at wielding people. Ironically, Yao didn't despise this capitalist-overlord logic. Survival had its own stark elegance.
"Thank you, Aunt," she said, now fully dressed, turning to offer a slight bow.
Zhou Miao studied her for a prolonged moment, her gaze lingering oddly on Yao's eyes. She felt it—a strange pull, as if those pupils could swallow light and thought whole. A fascinating ability,she noted internally.
"Five minutes," Zhou Miao stated, gathering her things. She walked out, the little dragon trotting at her heels, leaving Yao alone in the chamber.
The door closed with a soft, final click.
Yao didn't rush. She lifted a hand, fingertips brushing her closed eyelids. A faint, electric tingle lingered there. She felt powerful, overwhelmingly so, capable of obliterating the Wei Ran of mere days past with a thought. Yet, a peculiar lassity weighed on her—not true weakness, but the neurological dissonance of a system upgraded too fast, a spirit trying to navigate a suddenly vaster vessel. The clumsiness of unfamiliar strength.
She hastened her preparations. A chime from her communicator—a message from Tu Tu.
Tu Tu: Beep beep! Dig complete! 3,000 cubic units of Psy-Ore! Estimated value: 1 million Blue Coins! (Don't you dare explain the exchange rate to copper, I'll faint!). Where is everyone? Come greet the glorious Earth-Mole Battle-King! I'm at the spaceport!
A'Qi: Are you lost?
Yao: You're lost, aren't you.
Tu Tu: Hmph!
A'Qi: Captain is occupied. I'll retrieve you.
Tu Tu: Good. And you're buying dinner.
Yao allowed a small smile. A'Qi would undoubtedly have powerful shadows trailing her—Li Jie, the late-in-life father, was fiercely protective. His overreaction to Zhou Miao's barbs proved it. A struck nerve.
This shift could trigger internal strife within the Li family. A politically disengaged Li Jie entering the fray would cause tremors. For Yao, the 'Fu family son-in-law' and 'Xie clan distant relative,' it might buy precious time. And for Zhou Miao, a de facto ruler of the Xie, the benefits would be even greater.
Outside the Ancestral Temple, the wind howled over desolate cliffs and a brooding sea. Yao emerged a minute early. The Flame Drake waited, its scales gleaming dully in the grey light.
"Your master isn't leaving?"
"Today is the anniversary of her family's… passing. She observes three days of vigil."
Her family.The words struck Yao with unexpected force. Annihilation.She nodded silently, climbing onto the drake's back. With a roar that shook the mist, they vanished into a tear in the world.
Inside the temple's memorial hall, the section dedicated to the third branch was notably dense with tablets. Of all the Xie lineages, theirs had suffered the most complete extinction. Only one remained.
Zhou Miao stood with her hands clasped behind her, her eyes traveling over the names—from her grandfather's generation down. A millennium-old clan, its glory paved with bleached bones. "For honor. For defiance. In the end, merely death."
Her thoughts were unreadable. She reached out, gently shifting her elder brother's tablet aside, and placed a blank, unnamed slate next to it.
"If I fail," she murmured to the empty air, "this will suffice."
She turned. The wooden doors groaned open, and a mournful wind swept in, tangling her hair and setting her robes fluttering like the wings of a trapped ghost.
The Flame Drake prepared to deposit Yao in the wilderness outside Beiluk City's perimeter. Entering controlled airspace risked detection by the province's peak experts—a privilege even the drake couldn't extend without Zhou Miao's direct command.
"One moment. I'll descend into the forest below."
"Unnecessary. I'll manage."
The drake blinked its great golden eyes. "Oh? You have wings now?"
"I always had. But now… perhaps an extra pair."
"Four chicken wings wouldbe faster," the drake rumbled, then added, as if an afterthought, "The Master said your soul must shine brightly. I don't fully comprehend, but she seemed… taken with your eyes. They say eyes are windows. Do yours… glow?"
Yao suppressed a sigh at the draconic subtlety. "What do you think?"
The Flame Drake hmphed, a puff of smoke rising from its nostrils. Without warning, it executed a perfect, violent barrel roll at altitude, flinging Yao into the open sky. It had just enough time to pull a grotesque claw-over-eye face before its jaw went slack.
The falling figure didn't plummet. Wind gathered, howling, then solidified. Not feathers, but condensed blades of storm-force, interwoven with threads of solidified light, erupted from her back—dual pairs of wings, overlapping and merging. With a sound like a tearing sun, she became a streak of radiant hurricane, slicing through the clouds.
The Flame Drake watched the shrinking trail, then snorted, pretending to examine its own claws. "Hmph. Fast chicken."
Where was Oaks? Taken by Zhou Miao. Fate unknown.
Where was Yao? Unknown. And wait… who was 'Yao'?
Currently, aside from the staff at the Sage's Clinic and Qin Minfeng, no one spared a thought for 'Yao.' Didn't she have a job? Well, she was newly hired, part-time. No one expected her daily.
At the Clinic, the initial curiosity had faded by the second day, buried under routine and the rampant gossip about the entrance exams. It wasn't until a visitor mentioned seeing a stunningly beautiful florist near the clinic that anyone remembered.
At the flower shop, a man of unremarkable appearance sat in a parked car, his eyes glued to the woman inside. She moved with a gardener's grace among the blooms, her fingers deft as she arranged stems and wrapped bouquets for customers. His expression cycled through confusion, shock, and intense suspicion.
He'd staked out the area for a day before she appeared. She was similar, yet utterly different. But the sight of her made his heart clench with a primal, formless dread. What if it is her?
Could Yao be alive? What if she and Oaks had shared in some secret, obtained some treasure? One gained immortality, the other, transcendent talent. And he, Qin Minfeng, had gotten nothing, forced to claw his way up alone.
The more he thought, the more it felt like a quest line. The old man in the game had hinted these two were 'worthwhile targets' with good rewards. "They were weak then, so the rewards were meager. Because I failed to eliminate them in time, they stole what was meant for me! The old man said with my fortune, it was all prepared for me! So, their current power… it's still part of myprogression line! If I take them down, I can claim it all!"
The humiliation of the exam day burned fresh. He gritted his teeth, mind racing. He couldn't stay in Beiluk. Even with academy admission, his reputation was tarnished, and with Oaks' ascendance, killing him would be trivial.
He needed to observe, to see if this woman shared habits with the slave-girl Yao. But his long-range surveillance gear soon became useless—the shop was inundated with customers, a sudden, inexplicable rush.
Qin Minfeng scowled, eyes glinting. He had a plan.
Today was the second day post-exam. School reporting was the day after tomorrow.
Tomorrow. It had to be tomorrow.
He drove off, using a burner communicator to preset a message, then contacted another number.
"Want revenge?"
Yao worked at the flower shop for a few hours, retreated upstairs to read, and by evening was out again—grocery shopping.
In the bustling supermarket near the Clinic, she stood out even pushing a cart. As she selected vegetables, a man approached, unkempt but persistent, asking for her contact.
"Apologies. I'm married." She gestured to a simple ring.
"Doesn't matter, I just wanted to—" He stepped closer, then his face paled.
A hand closed on the man's forearm from behind Yao, twisting it back with efficient force. Qin Liechuan—now Director Qin of the Provincial Intelligence Bureau—glared at the intruder. "She declined."
"Ah! Let go! Sorry, I didn't know her husband was here! Sorry!"
After the man fled, Qin Liechuan turned to Yao. His demeanor wasn't warm, but lacked his official icy detachment. "Next time, defend yourself. Or call security." He bent, picked up an apple that had fallen from her basket, placed it back, and walked away without another word.
Yao noted his casual attire and slippers. Lives nearby.A coincidence? He seemed to recognize this identity… which made little sense unless it was through the Clinic. She filed the thought away.
Back in her apartment, she cooked, ate alone at the table with a drama playing quietly, washed dishes, read, and slept. A life of monastic regularity.
To a distant observer armed with surveillance tech, the woman living alone in the glowing grid of the city was an oddity. Yet, perhaps understandable. "Someone from a trash world… probably dreams of nothing more than this." Qin Minfeng's lip curled. "But not me."
His contact was wary. "You're sure you can handle her? It's risky. If she's connected to Oaks… their growth is unnatural. Oaks claimed he killed her. For both to be in Beiluk now… it's no coincidence. Either she's back from the dead for revenge, or they're in league."
Qin Minfeng didn't explain his obsession, only muttered, "If it's the former, we can use her against Oaks. If the latter, she's leverage."
The contact was persuaded. After disconnecting, Qin Minfeng plotted. "She passed the Sage's Clinic screening, so she's an arcanist. But they hire for skill, not combat strength. Her battle power should be low."
He cherished his life, trusted his protagonist's fortune. With time, he could reverse everything. But escaping his current predicament required a catalyst. "Every time I'm cornered, obtaining a treasure from a key figure is my escape. Oaks is untouchable. But shemust have something."
This felt like the final, crucial gate. Yao was the only key.
The next morning, the Sage's Clinic was not its usual serene self. Military personnel in full tactical gear stood in the courtyard. Head Nurse Bear, formidable in her white uniform, was finalizing a roster.
The young lieutenant in charge grinned pleadingly. "Can't we have one more, Bear-Sis? This op is critical! Your healers are legendary! More healers, safer mission! Come with us!"
Head Nurse Bear ignored him, scanning her list. "Ready. You can go."
"Wait, it says seven. This is six. Where's the last?"
"Part-timer. Might not come. You proceed—"
The lieutenant's shoulder was tapped. Qin Liechuan stood there, suit impeccable. "Prepare to move out. Don't delay."
The lieutenant saluted, but as he turned, Head Nurse Bear called out, "Ah, she's here."
Yao walked into the courtyard, carrying a vase of freshly cut flowers in soft yellows and greens, and a small lunch pail. The soldiers stared. She entered, meeting Qin Liechuan's gaze, noting the new insignia on his chest. Promoted fast.
Head Nurse Bear's stern face softened. "You came! I thought you might be away." The new recruit handed over the lunch pail and set the vase on a table. "I made extra. You looked rushed during the interview, didn't finish your bread. Breakfast matters."
The lieutenant's nose twitched at the aroma of warm soup and noodles. Head Nurse Bear protectively pulled the pail closer, shooting him a warning look, then sweetly guided Yao to sign in. "You're so new… maybe you shouldn't go. Stay with me, I'll show you the ropes."
The lieutenant panicked. "All personnel, prepare for immediate departure!"
Qin Liechuan glanced at Yao. "Can you depart now?"
Minutes later, Yao was on a military transport, watching forests and mountains blur past. She didn't ask their destination. She'd be home by nightfall. The mission's nature was clear—combat. Why else requisition Clinic healers?
The cabin was tense. The other healers stayed quiet. Only when they reached the eastern foothills of the Beiluk range did Yao sense a shift. Here, autumn gold clashed with perpetual snow. Qin Liechuan briefed them. "Prepare frost-warding arts and antidotes. The area has Snow Specters."
Snow Specters.A memory surfaced—a hidden side quest in the game, the 'Red Lion Manor' incident. A joint Intelligence-Military operation that had failed, later turned into a player bounty. The in-game details were vague, but now, being here…
She watched the soldiers, Qin Liechuan. His transfer was abrupt, mid-term. That meant the Intelligence Bureau needed a shake-up. The military couldn't command Intelligence at his level… This was a cross-ministry operation. Not Education, too public. Not Political, too covert. Not Military leading… The Economic Ministry.
Zhou Linlang's silence. A major provincial case requiring military muscle, in the Red Lion Manor region… The TK Syndicate.
Yao's mind, a repository of countless game strategies, made the connection. The three plagues of Beiluk: Grain Blight, Dungeon Surges, and the TK Alliance. A conglomerate of economic criminals, savage dark artsists, and well-funded traitors. The game had hinted at a massive scandal that rocked the province, requiring intervention from the Imperial capital.
She was stepping into a live, dangerous plot.
"And if it's Qin Minfeng… as the protagonist, major events orbit him. His system or the old man's tips must have given him clues…" The thought was unsettling.
The transport cloaked. Below, nestled in a snowy valley, was a complex of red stone buildings—the Red Lion Manor. It looked like a winery. It was a nest.
At the lieutenant's signal, soldiers rappelled down. The transport locked on and fired.
Explosions bloomed against the white. The assault triggered defensive arrays, summoning hordes of writhing, pale shapes—Snow Specters, pouring from hidden mountain crevices. A hundred against two hundred elite soldiers. The soldiers, averaging level 40 with a level 55 lieutenant, held the advantage against the level 30 specters.
On the transport's screens, the battle seemed controlled. Yao, however, looked past the screens, to the mountains. Her gaze sharpened. Something felt… off.
"Director Qin," she said, her voice cutting through the tactical chatter. "Can the ship's system scan the snowpack density on that peak? The growth line of the Frost-Pine seems artificially truncated. They thrive up to five thousand meters. Here, they stop at thirty-five hundred. It suggests the upper mass is geologically recent, or… hollow."
Qin Liechuan was at her side in an instant, his presence a wave of focused intensity. Yao instinctively shifted back. He studied the mountain, then barked orders. "Full spectral penetration scan. Now."
The report came back. "Scan shows standard mountain composition, Director. No anomalies."
Yao glanced at the data. The model looked normal, but the elemental readouts… The 'earth' inside wasn't soil. It was a prepared, dormant earth-element spell matrix.
Before she could speak, Qin Liechuan's face hardened. "Evacuate the mountain perimeter! Now! It's a trap!"
His order echoed through the comms a second before the world broke.
With a sound that was less a roar and more the sky tearing, the mountain's peak—two thousand meters of snow and rock above the 3500-meter line—sheared off. An avalanche of biblical proportions, triggered by the detonation of the earth-spell matrix, thundered down.
Qin Liechuan moved. He phased through the transport's hull, semi-transparent wings of spatial force snapping open. He blinked, crossing kilometers in a heartbeat, placing himself between the mountain and his men. A massive shield materialized—his third-sequence Manifestation. A giant, cross-feathered white goshawk, his bonded spatial familiar, shrieked, weaving a barrier of distorted space.
For two eternal seconds, the titanic weight of the avalanche hung, arrested by will and spatial warping.
Two seconds was enough. Most soldiers shot skyward.
Then, the defenses shattered. The snow-tide, carrying the force of a natural apocalypse, swallowed Qin Liechuan, his familiar, and buried the Red Lion Manor under a new glacier.
The Snow Specters, empowered by the cold, swarmed over the fresh tomb.
On the transport, Yao understood. Thiswas the failure point from the game. A traitor. Someone who knew the op's details, the force composition…
"Deploy high-yield melt agents and thermal inductors!" she called to the stunned lieutenant, her voice calm amid the chaos. "Prioritize heat over cold-burn. The buried have less than fifteen minutes at that temperature before cellular death."
She was already moving with the other healers. The unburied soldiers, regrouping, provided cover. Melt-charges created craters in the snow. The first found was Qin Liechuan, limbs bent at unnatural angles, his familiar using its own battered wings to shield his head. Healers converged, light washing over him.
Yao left them to it. She found the lieutenant. "The avalanche was a smokescreen. They're covering evidence in the manor. By the time we dig it out, meltwater will have contaminated everything."
The lieutenant, reaching the same conclusion, ordered a frantic excavation. Mechanical probes snaked into the half-buried red buildings, revealing a vast, flooded sub-level—a high-tech alchemy lab. Crucibles were cold, cages empty. The reaction cores were dead, their secrets dissolved by the planned deluge.
Standing at the edge of the snowy ruin, Yao felt a deep chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. The TK Syndicate was ruthless, clever, and terrifyingly thorough.
Night had fallen when Yao returned to the city. Qin Liechuan, thanks to the Clinic's best healers, would live. At the Clinic, Head Nurse Bear sighed. "A nasty business. Don't dwell on it. Get home, rest. The district's doing circuit work tonight, be careful."
Yao smiled. "Afraid I'll trip over a wire? I'm not a child."
"You're eighteen. Of course you are."
Twenty-eight, actually.Yao didn't correct her, just waved and stepped into the city's electric night.
She walked her usual route home, mind churning with suspicions she could share with no one. The path took her through a quiet lane flanked by high walls, overhung with the broad, dark leaves of banana trees heavy with fruit. The air was cool. She avoided piles of cabling left from the ongoing work.
Halfway down the secluded lane, she knew. One ahead, one behind. The trap was sprung.
She didn't break stride, a lovely, lonely figure in the deep shadows, hands in her coat pockets. Ahead, a man with long black hair rounded a corner, fingers already moving in intricate seals, cold murder in his eyes. A level 45 arcane assassin, priming a dizziness hex and a binding art.
As he judged her footfall and prepared to strike, a figure appeared at the mouth of a side alley ahead of him.
Yao stood there, having seemingly teleported, her face pale in the dim light, features drawn with a fragility that begged the moon's pity. Only her eyes…
They were the color of the deep abyssal sea, swirling with silent, impossible vortices. The assassin met that gaze and was pulledin.
The spell on his fingertips guttered and died. Not by choice. It was extinguished. Power failed. His heart hammered, not from exertion, but from a sudden, primal terror. He tried to run, to cast anything—a light, a shield. Nothing responded. A glance at his own status: Arcane Nullification. Duration: 15s.
Fifteen seconds?!His mouth opened to scream—
A crystal-fine thread of light, colder than the mountain snow, pierced his throat. The sound died with him. His body fell forward, only to be caught by silken threads that erupted from the cobblestones, swallowing him into the earth without a sound. No blood, no struggle. The banana leaves rustled in a passing breeze.
Yao, twenty meters back in the lane, was on her communicator. "Hmm? Another one tomorrow? I'm fine, I can go… Director Qin is recovering? Good… I'm safe. No, please, no escort. Thank him for me."
Now or never,Qin Minfeng thought, watching her back, her distraction with the call, her finger idly tracing a hanging blossom. He activated his stealth art and lunged.
The woman with the flower turned. She looked at him.
His stealth dissolved. Nullified. Exposed. Before the shock could fully register, he saw her—still on the call—lift a finger and point, not at him, but at the wall beside him.
The exposed, severed live wires from the construction, thick as a man's thumb, suddenly moved. Like black serpents, they uncoiled from the wall. Seven of them. 3000 volts each. In the third second of his arcane silence, they slammed into his head and body.
A convulsive ZZZAP-CRACKLEechoed in the lane. A normal human would be dead. An arcanist's resistance saved him—for now. He collapsed, smoking, unconscious. Yao had calculated the dosage precisely. Three hours.
She glanced at her wrist-monitor's security feed. No witnesses. Quickly, she gloved her hands. She didn't touch the body. Instead, she sprinkled a fine, acidic powder around it, then used her light-threads to bury the lethal cables in the softening earth beside him.
She finished as Head Nurse Bear's voice asked about tomorrow's schedule. "Mm, I can manage the morning shift… See you then." She ended the call, walked out of the lane, and vanished into a nearby supermarket.
By the time she selected vegetables, the ground had fully melted and resettled.
By the time she cooked, the earth was firm.
By the time she ate, the buried Qin Minfeng, deep in anoxic soil, began to suffocate. His body, on pure instinct, struggled. The movement brought his flesh into direct, sustained contact with the high-voltage wires buried a millimeter away.
The process began.
At her table, Yao turned on the entertainment screen, idly picking at a fruit salad. A nature documentary played. A fawn fled a cheetah, made a desperate turn at a ravine edge. The predator, overcommitted, plunged in, impaling itself on hidden stakes. It writhed, dying. The fawn watched from above, then turned and bounded away.
Yao frowned, changed the channel. A detective drama. The investigator was monologuing: "…The perfect murder doesn't implicate the murderer. It points the blame at the victim's own folly, or drowns the truth in a far more complex, powerful narrative. Let the water grow murky. When all eyes are on the sharks, who notices the crab?"
Yao ate a cherry tomato, the tart sweetness bursting on her tongue. She took a sip of wine, then went to shower.
She wasn't afraid of risk, or of Qin Minfeng's potential backers. She feared the protagonist's aura—that ineffable 'fortune' that bent logic. Even if she could kill him instantly, a passing expert might intervene. Or his death might trigger a larger plot, drawing in greater powers… The situation could grow more complex, but she couldn't be the one holding the knife when it did.
The solution? Let him die by his own actions, by the world's indifferent physics. No direct contact. Her Ocular Nullification was a rules-lawyer's trick, disabling his arts. The actual death had to be his own doing.
The live wires, which hehad 'accidentally' exposed and touched. A prolonged electrocution…
But it wasn't over. The real trouble was the larger game. Qin Minfeng, missing his 'rightful' place in the official, heroic narrative surrounding Zhou Linlang and the TK case, had likely grafted himself onto the syndicate through his system. How else would he know her route and schedule tonight? That implied a link to the TK group.
His death would drag out that connection. There were traitors in the official ranks. They could use his death to implicate her, or 'Oaks.'
Worse, what if Qin Minfeng, under pressure, had already bartered game-knowledge to the TK Syndicate, warping the timeline irreparably? He was the butterfly, not her. The coming storm's scale was unknown. But he had to die.
The plan was in motion.
She checked the wall clock. An hour had passed.
She turned off the TV and went to shower. Under the stream of hot water, she washed her face, the world reduced to the drumbeat on tile.
She did not see the section of her bathroom wall, behind the shower curtain, silently begin to liquefy, forming the outline of a human shadow.
Someone was here.