The long night had come to an end.
A lot had happened over the course of it.

In the east of the city, the rising red sun slowly climbed into the sky. The morning breeze danced through towering buildings, and sunlight shimmered off every glass pane.

Office Tower No. 133 on Maple Street, 64th floor.
Inside a meeting room simply but formally decorated—
Zhang Cheng, the captain of the Quexie squad, stood before a projection screen. He was a short-haired middle-aged man in a light gray coat.

He had a composed and mature appearance, but his eyes revealed fatigue.
With heavy bags under his eyes, Zhang Cheng turned his head to look at the photos on the projection.

The shattered dome of a bar. A massive, terrifying hole.
Tables and chairs in disarray. Bloodstains on the main stage.
A narrow alley, slick with dark red blood and scattered flesh.

“No bodies were found. The cameras at the bar were instantly destroyed by blood droplets before anything was recorded.”

Zhang Cheng had been an orphan since childhood, taken in by an ancient sect. He trained for decades during the era of spiritual energy decline, yet was never able to form a foundation.
It wasn’t until spiritual energy began to recover that he finally succeeded and was assigned to this city to manage Quexie.

Zhang Cheng glanced back at the members of Quexie seated in the meeting room.
They were all gifted young men and women, in their twenties—about a dozen in total.
Some came from unorthodox backgrounds, others had formal sect training, and a few had military roots.
Aside from those out on assignments, they were the last remaining personnel of Quexie in the city.

For cover, each member dressed like an ordinary office worker during the day.
Some wore suits and ties, some were quiet, others brash and confident—each with their own vibe.
But regardless of their personalities, everyone was focused now, eyes sharp.

“Foundation Realm,” a crew-cut young man whistled, grinning. “A bigshot like that could scatter our ashes with a flick of the wrist. Disposing of bodies would be a breeze too, huh?”

“Did we get a DNA match yet?” asked a glasses-wearing jiejie standing in the corner with her arms crossed. “Captain Zhang, whose blood was it?”

“All the blood belongs to one person.”
Zhang Cheng shook his head with a bitter smile. “There were signs of cleansing spells used to erase traces—done very carefully.”

“Then who died?”

Zhang Cheng paused before saying one name:
“Mudan.”

A strange silence swept over the Quexie squad.

They looked around at each other—everyone was visibly shocked.

Someone laughed aloud, “That’s great, right? Some senior cultivator went out demon-hunting for us. What’re we even investigating for? Shouldn’t we just track that expert down and send over a silk banner?”

“Good idea!” the crew-cut guy jumped in. “We’ll write "Heaven's Justice" on it in big bold letters!”

“Haha, you two are gonna kill me.”

The room buzzed with cheer.

But something felt off. Some of the Quexie members… felt ashamed. Embarrassed, even.

Mudan, who had eluded them again and again, was wiped out by some Foundation Realm cultivator with a casual lightning strike.
And that cultivator didn’t even bother to reveal themselves.

It was a slap in the face—a condemnation of their incompetence, a disregard for their authority.
It stung.

Really stung.

But what could they do?

“We’re still investigating,” Zhang Cheng said softly, his eyes sharp as lightning. “Quiet, everyone.”

Zhang Cheng was respected and trusted by the younger members.

He got straight to the point. “Mudan. Lightning-type cultivator. And one more.”

“One more?”

“A demonic cultivator.”

“A demonic cultivator?”

“So last night was actually a three-way battle?!”

Zhang Cheng’s eyes trembled slightly as he said, word by word:
“None of you know this yet—but the situation was so serious that a top expert from HQ rushed here overnight. At the scene, she detected faint traces of moqi—stronger than anything she’d felt before. And… she found some new intel.”

He glanced at his watch.

“She’ll be here soon,” he said. “Get ready. And go over the intel brief again while you wait.”

A few minutes later.

Light, graceful footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Zhang Cheng lifted his hand in signal.
Everyone exchanged glances, then scrambled to their feet to show respect.

An expert from HQ.

Who would it be?

The door opened.

A girl.

Young face, twin ponytails, wearing an off-shoulder dress. She stood at the doorway, lips curved in a soft smile. Her eyes were dark and deep like moonlit seas. Bright red eyeliner marked their corners like something out of a dream.

She was short and slim, but her aura was undeniable—calm, unshakable.
Her bangs were cut neatly, framing a doll-like face. Yet her smile held the mystery of nightfall.

“Lu Chuning,” she said brightly.

A self-introduction.

Her voice was energetic, youthful, yet carried a stillness like the depths of the sea.

“Lu-qianbei,” Zhang Cheng greeted her with a cupped-hand salute.

“Don’t make me sound old. You’re older than me.”

“…Seniority comes with ability.”

“Still not okay.”

Every young member of Quexie felt their heart skip a beat.
The air turned eerily cold, laced with a strange chill.

“I’ve received new clues about last night’s battle.”
The girl of uncertain age spoke calmly as she walked toward the projection screen.

Everyone swallowed hard, finally daring to breathe again.
Zhang Cheng was already breaking out in cold sweat.

The young girl flipped her hand.
A pale-white storage device appeared in her palm and she tossed it to Zhang Cheng.

He fumbled to catch it, then immediately plugged it into the projector.

A moment later.

The screen lit up with a photo.

A selfie—group photo, actually.

A smiling girl held the phone. Sitting beside her were two others.

One was a boy wearing a mask and baseball cap. Blonde bangs peeked from under the hat, and his fox-like eyes were long and gentle.

Despite trying to smile, there was a faint shadow of coldness beneath the surface.

The other was a silver-haired girl with a slightly awkward expression.
She was stunningly beautiful, a little bashful, hugging a wine glass, her lips pressed to a straw.

Zhang Cheng blinked. “Lu… Lady Lu, they are?”

“Facial recognition confirms the boy is a tongxue from the Seeking Dao class. His background is clear.
As for the girl, her name is Chen Yanyu. We can’t get anything more detailed for now.”

“Can’t get more info?”

“Top secret.”

Lu Chuning narrowed her eyes. The red eyeliner made her young face seem even more striking.

“No clearance.”

Zhang Cheng froze. It took a while for him to recover, and he chuckled bitterly.
“Even Quexie doesn’t have clearance?”

“No need for clearance. I already figured out who she is. Silver hair. Surname Chen. Golden eyes…”

The younger members of Quexie remained silent but looked at each other in confusion.

What?

Could you say it a bit more clearly?

Lu Chuning stared at the boy with the mask, at his somewhat forced smile, and her lips curved slightly.

“They’re nervous—like a couple. But definitely not one. Interesting.”

“You have an idea?”

“We’ll leave the little guniang for now.”

Even though she looked younger than Chen Yanyu, Lu Chuning still called her “little.”

Her pretty, youthful face wore a mischievous smile.

“I’m really interested in that boy. Captain Zhang, please arrange a car. I want to visit his school.”

You can’t hide it.
When you try too hard to seem kind to outsiders, your fox tail always slips out.

Like a first-year middle schooler, Lu Chuning let out a lazy yawn. She seemed a bit tired—but there was excitement in her eyes.

“How fun,” she thought.

…
(100 votes reached—looks like I’m pulling an all-nighter to post another chapter!)