Chapter 21: Rude Guest
Behind the office desk, Su Xiao tossed aside a document. It was a summary report of last night’s incident, nothing special. What piqued his interest were two other files.
The content of the first file was quite interesting. Three “civilians” had wiped out a Ghost Ring stronghold. By the time the Seventh Squad arrived, those three civilians had declined their invitation. The so-called Seventh Squad was actually a department responsible for dealing with Wraiths, handling reconnaissance, intelligence, and aftermath, often cooperating with the Execution Agency in combat.
“A civilian wielding a sledgehammer.”
Su Xiao smiled. This was obviously those three idiots from the National Football Team. They had independently destroyed a small Ghost Ring stronghold.
Just as he opened the second file, a photo fell out. As Su Xiao picked it up, a smile gradually spread across his face.
“Lord Legion Commander, what are we having for breakfast? I’m so hungry, ah~”
The twin-tailed little loli Bonnie, standing by the desk, nearly jumped in fright. Su Xiao’s smile at that moment was far too unsettling. She secretly glanced at the photo in his hand. It showed a little girl in a red dress, one cheek puffed out with a lollipop in her mouth.
“So I meet you here.”
Su Xiao put down the photo. It was an old acquaintance. For now, the likelihood of conflict with this person was low. As for settling scores, there was no rush; it wasn’t a mortal enmity.
Thump, thump, thump.
A knock came at the door. The bald old man Hank entered the room. Seeing Bonnie by the desk, his cheek twitched, and his gaze seemed somewhat unfriendly.
“What’s with that hairstyle?”
Su Xiao frowned at Hank. The man still had his Mediterranean hairstyle, but something about it looked off.
“Well, Lord Legion Commander, I need some privacy.”
As Hank spoke, he glanced sideways at Bonnie again. Bonnie looked confused.
In truth, yesterday Hank had paid Bonnie a hefty sum for her ancestral hair-growth tonic. Although there had been a minor incident during the night, Hank had resolved it without much trouble. But this morning, he felt something strange on his head. Looking in the mirror, he found he had grown a thick head of yellow hair.
Hank was stunned. His sides were graying, but the top—yes, a ring of yellow hair—this punk hairstyle was clearly unsuitable for an old man. So he painfully shaved off all that yellow hair.
“That shouldn’t be…”
Bonnie muttered to herself, staring at Hank’s bald spot.
Just then, two more Awakened entered the office: High-Collar Priest and Gess.
When Gess had rushed into the office with a bloodied face two nights ago, Su Xiao hadn’t seen his features. Now, looking at him, the man’s face was covered in scars, with almost no intact skin visible. As for High-Collar Priest, if he pulled down his collar, the teeth and gums exposed to the air would be enough to terrify anyone, not to mention that he was missing half a nose.
Hank, Gess, and High-Collar Priest stood side by side. They didn’t look like Imperial Awakened at all, but rather like a twisted executioner from some evil organization (Hank), a non-human (Gess), and a terrifying clergyman (High-Collar Priest).
“The reason I called you here…”
After Su Xiao briefly explained, the three only thought for a moment before nodding in agreement. Not only was hunting Wraiths their duty, but each would receive 10,000 Gold Le after the mission, enough for a comfortable rest of their lives.
As for coveting wealth, they had the right to. These three had become this grotesque, inhuman state precisely to hunt Wraiths. They owed nothing to the Empire and were worthy of their status as Execution Agency members.
“Then let’s set out. The secret squad will be named ‘No-Eye.’ Bonnie, continue leveraging your strengths. Find out what the Sixteen-Eye Chamber and the Undying King are, and what connection they share.”
“Leave it to me.”
Bonnie was somewhat distracted, occasionally glancing at Hank. This time, she didn’t pull her hair while thinking.
“Woof.”
Bubu Wang barked. Su Xiao paused mid-step. Bubu Wang’s meaning was simple: “Master, among the No-Eye Squad, you are definitely the most handsome. This dog guarantees it.”
“…”
Su Xiao draped on his long coat and strode out of the office. The Execution Agency had standard uniforms, but no member ever wore them. Their main use was for award ceremonies or large celebrations. In regular missions, wearing such gear while hunting Wraiths was suicide—it would expose your identity before battle.
Hank and the other two followed behind Su Xiao. They seemed accustomed to missions where the destination was unknown.
Su Xiao pulled a roster from his pocket and quickly selected the first target.
…
Fishing Port Street, No. 37.
On the bustling street, vendors shouted from both sides. On a wet chopping board, splash! Water flew as a fat fish was slapped down. After scaling and gutting, the fish still struggled.
Bloody water flowed onto the street, spreading a fishy stench. The commoners on the street seemed long accustomed to it; they cared more about whether there were affordable live fish today.
The No. 37 doorplate marked a quiet shop. Even during the day, the interior was dim. Flickering candlelight gave the shop a mysterious atmosphere.
“Sir, your journey this time will face trials, but you will return alive and recover quickly.”
A woman in a black robe with gold-thread embroidery on her cuffs and collar spoke. Even indoors, she wore a hood with silver pendants along its edge. Her eyes were painted with blue eyeshadow.
Mysterious charm—that was the feeling this woman gave off.
“Really?”
The merchant sitting across from her spoke, his expression not too pleasant.
“The prophecy will not be wrong.”
The woman’s voice had a soothing quality. Of course, her prophecy wouldn’t be wrong. If the merchant returned alive, her prophecy was accurate. As for dying, dead men couldn’t come back to complain.
“Thank you, madam.”
The merchant left two silver coins and hurried away.
As soon as the merchant left, the bell on the door jingled again. The female fortune-teller didn’t look up, directly saying, “Sir, smoking is prohibited here.”
“Is that so?”
The newcomer extinguished his cigarette. The fortune-teller frowned; she hated the smell of smoke.
“What would you like to have divined?”
The fortune-teller was polite—after all, the customer was king—but her voice carried a hint of coldness, necessary for maintaining an air of mystery.
“Divined? Divine when I’ll die.”
Hearing this, the fortune-teller looked up at the man across from her. He appeared to be around twenty, with decent looks—even her type—but he gave her a bad feeling. For some reason, her first impression of this guest was terrible.
“Divining death brings bad luck. I suggest you divine something else, like financial fortune?”
The fortune-teller reached for her tarot cards. From his attire, she could tell he was a big client. Otherwise, if someone came in asking “When will I die?” right off the bat, she would have already shown them the door.
“Alright then. Divine when you’ll die.”
“?”
The fortune-teller paused, then a murderous intent flickered beneath her hood.
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