The delicate undergarments were carefully put away. Yao stood on the balcony overlooking the sprawling commercial district, the neon glow painting shifting patterns on her face as she dissected the day's events.
First, the sheer audacity of the attack. It was brazen, yet not crude. Deploying five Level 70 experts spoke of near-certainty, not recklessness. They had miscalculated on three fronts, however.
First: that Langhao would encounter Lin Hengjing and Wei Mingtang, and that Lin's wariness would prompt a preemptive warning.
Second: that Wei Mingtang would appear and intervene.
Third: that an attack on the Fu family's expectant mother and child would trigger a resonance in the ambient magical currents—a disturbance that would inevitably scream its presence to the powerhouse Deans assembled in the nearby Golden Mansion.
The second point was the critical, unforeseen variable. It had derailed their entire operation, leaving Langhao unscathed. Theoretically, without these three anomalies, they could have succeeded and erased their traces before the Deans even sensed a ripple.
So, if the plan itself was viably audacious, what was its ultimate goal?
The motive often lies with the target.
Yao had conducted a thorough, discreet examination of Langhao's condition. Their objective was clear: to seize the unborn child. Remarkably, to preserve the infant's vitality within the womb, they had refrained from delivering a lethal blow to Langhao. The primary target was unquestionably a living, unharmed baby.
This presented a problem. Considering the most likely culprit was the Li family, their motivation for any drastic action would logically be to eliminate the child—and preferably the mother as well, cutting the root to prevent future growth. The Lis, as the paramount nobles of Beluke, were known for decisive ruthlessness, not sentimentality. The swift, clean kill was their signature.
So why this deviation?
Two possibilities.
Either today's assailants were not the Lis. Or the prophecy Langhao and her brother spoke of was flawed. Perhaps this child was not destined to be the Li family's doom, but their boon.
Which answer was correct?
Her fingers, holding a cigarette, idly rotated it. Suddenly, a discordant note echoed in her mind. She looked down at her left hand.
From her position leaning against the half-closed glass door, Wei Mingtang noticed Yao intently studying her own left palm. The wrist wound had healed; was she reminiscing about Langhao's earlier, gentle touch as she tended to it? No. This was different. She was examining dried blood.
Yao wasscrutinizing the faint, rust-colored smears. The discrepancy had been nagging at her. Her gaze fixed on the dried traces, a hypothesis began to crystallize.
She turned her head sharply. Through the glass, their eyes met across the room. Wei Mingtang's brow was already furrowed, as if anticipating the question.
"I took a quick look when I arrived. There wasn't much blood on the floor."
Yao, though not a licensed healer, had absorbed enough medical knowledge from her time at the Sage's Clinic to estimate blood loss from a patient's pallor and pulse. The disconnect she'd sensed was the discrepancy between Langhao's weakened state and the paltry amount of blood at the scene.
But had she arrived too late? Could someone else have altered the scene before the Deans and Wei Mingtang arrived? Perhaps they knew more.
Wei Mingtang's statement confirmed it. A beat of heavy silence hung between them. Then, without a word, they moved in sync. Yao's Ocular Art flared to life, and Wei Mingtang's own enhanced senses joined the search. They scoured the floor, the pipes beneath the boutique bathroom. The conclusion was swift and undeniable: someone had accessed the space from below and siphoned off a significant volume of blood.
Why steal blood?
To determine the infant's DNA.
Now Yao knew. It was the Li family.
They had executed a two-pronged operation.
And if it was the Li family, it also clarified the other matter—the prophecy itself was likely unreliable. The question now was where the fault lay. Was the prophecy false as told by the Fu siblings? Or had the Li family deliberately circulated a misleading version?
Yao deactivated her Ocular Art. Her fingers curled slightly before flicking the cigarette butt with practiced ease into a nearby bin. As for the surviving attackers... She had a strong suspicion that if the Lis were truly behind this, the hired blades would have no traceable connection to them whatsoever. The Lis had the means and wealth to orchestrate such things through dozens of intermediaries. That was precisely why they could afford such boldness.
The subsequent investigation by the academy's security division confirmed her prediction.
At dusk, Yao, having returned to campus with Langhao, received a visit from Ye Suran in the living room of their residence. Ye represented the academy's Internal Affairs unit.
"Do you know about the Black Crow Mountain Human Resources Syndicate?" Ye Suran's question, delivered without preamble, made Yao pause while pouring coffee.
She knew. In the game, Black Crow Mountain was a hub for several high-risk side quests—a lawless marketplace where the "resources" traded were often not goods, but people. Specifically, people with potent Arcane potential. Infants were a prized commodity, either for resale or for indoctrination into various shadow organizations. "Black Crow Mountain" was more of a concept, a label for the darkest underground markets of the Arcane world.
"These men were mercenaries from that sphere, hired for a specific bounty. According to them, the objective was to obtain the child. By any means necessary."
Yao inquired about a possible sixth individual.
"There was no mention of any other. They insisted they were a unit of five."
Then the sixth figure was on a separate, likely concurrent, contract. These five were unwitting extras in a larger play. As for the employer? Black Crow Mountain was a labyrinth of false identities and dead-end trails. Even their own internal controllers couldn't reliably trace the source of a bounty after multiple hand-offs.
The trail had gone cold. The investigation was suspended.
Ye Suran appeared genuinely apologetic and mildly embarrassed. Yao, having anticipated this outcome, simply nodded, her expression betraying little.
After Ye left, Yao's gaze shifted to Fu Qiang, who had been hovering nervously. Her brother-in-law felt a distinct chill under that assessing look.
Yao then asked the most disarmingly simple question:
"Have you eaten?"
Goddess above, nearly gave me a heart attack.
Fu Qiang stammered, "N-not yet. I need to get back to the Merchant Guild. Today... thank you."
"Separate bill."
"...Right. Of course."
Fu Qiang made his escape, presumably to calculate the "separate bill." Once alone, Yao's casual demeanor evaporated. She pulled out her communicator and sent a message to Wei Mingtang.
Asking for compensation from Fu Qiang wasn't for herself. It was for Wei Mingtang.
Maintaining the "Oxus" persona was one thing; nurturing the relationship with Wei Mingtang was another.
"Thanks for today. Ten Minor Scripts, the day after tomorrow."
"I don't want the scripts."
"?"
"You."
A single word from Wei Mingtang. A pause, then a follow-up.
"You need to revoke your previous refusal."
Understood. Wei Mingtang had a challenging dungeon lined up, one she wasn't confident about tackling alone, and she wanted Yao's help. She wasn't interested in substitutes. Her intervention today was her currency for Yao's participation.
Yao considered for a moment, then typed a single character.
Agreed.
On the other end, Wei Mingtang, satisfied, didn't reply. She was on the balcony of the girls' dormitory, collecting laundry, and happened to glance across the campus grounds. She saw the figure of "Oxus" after bidding farewell to Ye Suran, then heading into the kitchen to presumably prepare something for Langhao.
A roommate approached, sighing with admiration. "He's not even concerned about the assessment results. Just cooking for his fiancée. He really is a good catch, isn't he?"
Wei Mingtang raised an eyebrow, offering a faint, enigmatic smile. She said nothing.
In a first-floor room, Dean Sang Jiu finished her final inspection. Before leaving, she added Yao's contact. "Message me if there are issues."
"Thank you, Dean."
"And don't go around adopting cheap mentors. That one's not a good person."
Sang Jiu, with her cool, scholarly air, seemed to harbor genuine professional disdain for Zhou Miao. Yao had no desire to get entangled in the rivalries of such powerhouses.
"My aunt is... busy. Preoccupied with major affairs. Aside from sending some resources occasionally, she doesn't involve herself with me."
Sang Jiu gave her a long, appraising look before departing. Internally, she noted: This Oxus... exceptionally meticulous. If I hadn't spoken to Zhou Miao beforehand, I might have attributed his progress to her influence. He actively downplays his own achievements. For someone so young, to be free of such vanity... rare.
Once Sang Jiu left, Yao entered the bedroom. Langhao was awake, staring out the window. She turned at the sound, her gaze searching, expectant. She was intelligent enough to have sensed something amiss.
Yao stood in the doorway, meeting her gaze. After a long moment, she asked, "Soy milk. Sweet or savory?"
Langhao, who had been subconsciously clutching the sheet, blinked. "...Sweet, I suppose."
Yao left, returning later with a tray of light food and medicinal broth. A small automaton assisted with feeding. Yao herself sat on the nearby sofa, seemingly engrossed in her communicator.
"Aren't you busy?"
"I am busy."
Yao stepped out briefly to fetch a drink. Langhao glanced at the open communicator screen before she returned. It displayed a simple, colorful farming game. It was almost laughable—the flamboyant Oxus playing something so whimsical. Her smile faded quickly.
Because the sequence of numbers on the "harvest earnings" notification... it was a coded sequence. Her eyes traced the pattern, mentally translating the cypher.
Your embroidery skills are rather poor. I could stitch better.
Langhao: "..."
She realized she might never truly understand this person.
He was simply too... strange.
News of Langhao's attack spread rapidly, even reaching the province of Dongke. The gossip networks of two provinces' worth of academy elites were soon abuzz. They reached a consensus: had Langhao not been attacked, the formidable "Husband Xie" might have completely dominated the rankings, leaving all competitors in the dust.
"But now, because of the incident with Langhao, Oxus is focused on tending to his beloved wife. He's even neglecting the assessment."
"Word is he's cooking at home right now."
They didn't know if Langhao had an appetite, but the confirmation that Oxus was leaning into the "devoted husband" persona allowed many to finally relax. Their own appetites returned.
Meanwhile, Wei Mingtang was in her study, an open Principle Tome before her. A communication link with Sang Jiu was active. As they discussed a point, both paused.
One minute before midnight, a change flickered on the Trial Tower leaderboard.
Dongguan's number one score jumped by 1.5 million points.
Already the top scorer for the quarter, this merely solidified his position. But it laid a massive cornerstone for the final quarterly assessment. While still far behind Frolosius's total annual score, he had now blasted his way into the top ten of the combined scores from the first three quarters. Barring a catastrophe, he was virtually guaranteed at least second place in the year-end standings.
For many, this was a devastating realization. At the stroke of midnight, countless students who had already gone to bed or were about to, jolted awake. The forums exploded with frustrated shouts: Damn it, that asshole! Pulling this in the last minute! He's killing us!
In Dongke province, the Four Academies had already agreed to a year-end inter-provincial ranking competition. Their brightest minds ran the numbers, comparing the leaderboards. The conclusion was unavoidable.
"Oxus... His third-quarter score would rank him fourth in our Dongke rankings."
"The gap in the annual total is too big for him to break into either province's top ten overall this year. But... he's been enrolled for less than a year."
"Dongke's three-hundred-year dominance over Beluke might be facing a reversal."
"Utter humiliation!"
The most affected, and thus the most closely watched, was the Violet-Blood Dongke Clan. Many waited for their reaction.
The Dongke Clan offered none. Silence. Perfect composure.
Still in Beluke, the three Dongke siblings were in their temporary study. They unanimously agreed: this Xie scoundrel was doing this on purpose. It was profoundly, spectacularly obnoxious.
A chime broke their discussion. Wu Gang stood to answer.
"Aunt."
His aunt, now a royal consort, didn't sound stern. Her tone held a trace of amusement as she inquired about the situation.
"You've heard already, Aunt?"
"Your grandmother mentioned it. She's rather annoyed by the talk going around. But... it's not a bad thing. There are always higher heavens and greater talents. Bloodline is not destiny."
Wu Gang paused, sensing something beneath her words. "But you still called. Is something happening?"
"There may be... developments in Beluke soon. Things might become less secure. Return to Dongke. Promptly."
Wu Gang's brow rose slightly. This wasn't just his aunt's concern. The message carried the quiet weight of his uncle, the prince. It signified something secret, significant.
"Tomorrow. Find a plausible reason to leave Beluke. Do not linger."
After the assessment concluded, Yao walked slowly back to her residence under the cover of the new night's darkness. She pushed the gate open and stopped.
Her instincts screamed wrongness. Yet she didn't summon her power. Instead, her fingers curled just slightly at her sides as she took in the scene. In the blackness of the courtyard, shrouded by deep shadows cast from a flowering plum tree, stood a figure.
Moonlight, cold and sharp, cut through the branches. It illuminated a face of unsettling beauty. The figure stood motionless, holding an ornate staff. The bottom tip of the staff was methodically, almost meditatively, prodding a large, spiky cactus in a ceramic pot by the wall.
Around the pot, scattered on the flagstones like tiny fallen spears, lay dozens of dislodged cactus spines.
Yao felt a profound, weary resignation settle over her. She exhaled slowly into the cool night air, her voice a flat monotone in the stillness.
"Aunt. Are you a pervert?"
Coming to someone's yard at midnight to methodically de-spine a cactus with a magical staff...
This wasn't just perversion.
This was next-level, disturbing, borderline unhinged behavior.