This morning, shortly after the officers from the Tribunal Division departed, Wu Ying sat alone in the pavilion on the lake, letting the cool wind brush past her face. Her phone vibrated with an incoming call.

“Sister.” Jiang Qing’s raspy voice came through the receiver. His breathing sounded heavy and labored, every word drawn with immense effort. “Don’t hang up yet. There’s something crucial I need to tell you.”

At that moment, Jiang Qing leaned against a damp, cold wall inside the trial arena, drenched in blood. He held a gun in one hand and his phone in the other, bowing his head as he spoke into the receiver. Silence surrounded him, broken only by his ragged breathing and the steady drip of blood falling from his gun hand onto the stone floor.

Near his feet lay an Atavist clinging to his final breaths—the assassin from the Skin Painter Clan who had disguised himself as Wu Ying to murder Master Wu.

“I can’t provide hard proof,” Jiang Qing said, “but Long Jin is the Information Broker.”

“And what else?” Wu Ying replied, her voice cold as ice. “Are you going to claim A-Jin set you up? That she killed my father?”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips in the dark, laced with self-derision. “My dear sister, you remain as proud and naive as ever. It’s almost endearing. If a brother who spent years by your side could turn out to be a traitor, who else is beyond suspicion?”

Wu Ying felt a sharp, sudden pang in her chest, as if pierced by a needle.

“Keep your guard up around her,” Jiang Qing added as his parting words. “Don’t let yourself get hurt.” Then he disconnected the line.

Wu Ying wanted to dismiss his warnings as lies, yet viewing past events through the lens of that single premise made everything about Jing Pei appear suspicious. The idea that Jing Pei was the Information Broker made far more sense than her merely being an associate.

Her father’s death had stemmed directly from the sudden tip-off about Wang Fang that Jing Pei gave her. At the time, Wu Ying assumed her friend was simply handing the Wu family an opportunity to claim credit. Yet that achievement had cost her father his life.

Moreover, at the critical moment when Jiang Qing tried to defend himself, his instinct had been to phone Jing Pei. The connection felt surreal and deeply unsettling.

Without concrete proof, Wu Ying kept these thoughts to herself, clinging to the hope that it was all an error.

Still, once planted, a seed of doubt does not easily wither away.

Jing Pei observed her closely, noticing a subtle flicker of vulnerability in her friend’s eyes—a fragile light that seemed ready to shatter at a touch. An unfamiliar ache stirred in Jing Pei’s chest. Forcing a gentle smile, she began, “Sister Ying, I—”

“That’s enough. You don’t need to explain. I trust you.” Wu Ying cut her off with a faint smile before Jing Pei could finish. “For a second, I thought I was about to lose another friend.”

Jing Pei froze. She hadn’t even uttered her defense.

Wu Ying held Jing Pei’s hand tight, almost painfully. “A-Jin, stay away from that Information Broker. It’s true she saved lives, but you never know what she’ll do next. She seems to be behind every big crisis, working from the shadows. The thing inside Liu Yin’s heart was probably not taken by the organization—it was taken by her. Xiao Tao almost lost control and died because of it. And she has a clear part in my father’s death. She’s not our friend. Keep your distance, A-Jin.”

She emphasized each word firmly: “Do you hear me? Stay away from her.”

Feeling the sharp pressure around her hand and seeing the intense mix of warning and plea in Wu Ying’s gaze, Jing Pei spoke softly, “I understand.”

Just then, officers escorted Jiang Yu out. Wu Ying turned to leave with her stepmother, naturally letting the matter of whether Jing Pei would visit the Wu Estate that evening slide away.

Jing Pei watched her walk away, the gentle smile fixed on her lips remaining motionless.

Did Wu Ying truly believe she wasn’t the Information Broker? Perhaps she did, or perhaps she was deceiving herself to avoid the painful truth. Either way, the outcome remained set in stone.

Jing Pei knew that once her true identity came to light and her web of lies crumbled like paper, she would lose all her current friends—Liu Yin, Tao Ying, Wu Ying, and anyone else who had suffered collateral damage in her calculations or fallen onto the sacrificed side of her trolley problems. Even allies like Feng Yilian would never look at her the same way again.

Every step of her big plan had worked so far, but each one came with its own cost in loss.

Turning around, her eyes caught sight of Qiu Fa standing nearby. Her smile brightened like a blooming flower as she trotted toward him. “Did you think I’d run off just because I took a little long?”

Qiu Fa glanced in the direction Wu Ying had disappeared before shifting his gaze to her face. “You have too much of a criminal record.”

“Ah, big cat really holds a grudge.”

Qiu Fa said nothing.

That afternoon, Qiu Fa headed to the Central Building for an emergency briefing.

“Joint allied forces intercepted a cargo vessel in the Red Wave waters,” an officer reported. “It was carrying approximately ten tons of rhenium, a key raw metal used in manufacturing membrane-breaking machines. The shipment belonged to the organization. The crew put up violent resistance, resulting in the loss of nine of our soldiers…”

“At Tong’an Pier, a suspicious underwater submarine was seized,” another reported. “It was loaded to capacity with radioactive polonium-210. Multiple soldiers suffered severe radiation contamination, and the death toll is…”

The joint sweeps were clearly working. To mass-produce their machines and tear open dimensional rifts that would drag the world back into the Era of the Great Cosmic Convergence, the organization needed huge amounts of raw materials. Stopping those supplies was essential, but every raid cost more soldiers’ lives.

War had arrived.

Hualan’s massive state apparatus operated at maximum capacity, every gear turning without pause. All available personnel were mobilized, including retired generals and veterans called back to duty.

When the summary meeting concluded, Madam President asked Qiu Fa to stay behind. “How are things at the Wu Estate?”

“Grieving, but Wu Ying can handle it. There’s no need to worry.”

Madam President nodded with a heavy sigh. “Master Wu gave so much to this nation. If his funeral takes place now, few of us will even have time to attend.”

At such a critical juncture, everyone was far too consumed by the war effort to mourn properly, let alone pay their respects at a ceremony.

Qiu Fa’s fingers moved a little. Keeping his face blank, he said, “That wouldn’t be proper. Maybe we should put off Master Wu’s burial.”

It was a practical alternative. Rather than burying a fallen hero in an empty, rushed ceremony, postponing the burial made far more sense—even if it meant keeping his body cold in storage a while longer.

Madam President pressed no further on the matter. Having entrusted the case to Qiu Fa, she trusted his judgment completely. Moving on to the core reason for keeping him, she turned her tone serious.

“A neighboring country spotted a transport unit belonging to the organization,” she said. “The cargo is vital, and we suspect at least three Atavists with purity levels over eighty percent are guarding it. The raid is scheduled for the early morning hours. Their government requested your personal assistance. Once you finish your immediate tasks, head over to support them.”

Following a devastating rebellion years ago, the neighboring nation’s elite Atavist forces had been severely depleted. Young talents existed, but they lacked combat experience, making their government hesitant to risk them without backup.

During that past crisis, they had appealed to Hualan for aid, and Qiu Fa’s intervention had single-handedly brought it to an end. Their leadership held him in awe, requesting his presence now to oversee the operation, allowing their young fighters to gain field experience with a reliable safety net.

“Mei Yanlan and one team member would be enough for a job like this,” Qiu Fa said, frowning a little.

“Their Prime Minister specifically asked for you.”

Madam President knew precisely what was going on. Ever since Qiu Fa saved their country, the neighboring government had been eager to recruit him, offering endless incentives to entice him away. With opportunities to contact him rare, they seized this opening without hesitation.

Refusing outright would harm diplomatic relations, which went against Hualan’s approach. Besides, assisting a neighbor served their own interests, and the presence of top-tier guards suggested the cargo was immensely valuable. Sending Qiu Fa remained the safest choice.

“Understood,” Qiu Fa said. “But I might be late. Tell them to hold their ground at first.”

To keep it from turning into a diplomatic issue, he added, “I have some personal matters to deal with.”

“What personal matters?” Madam President asked, her curiosity piqued.

Qiu Fa turned his head away slightly. “Important ones.”

“Wow, this is amazing! The heater’s finally fixed!”

“Not having to walk up to the second floor just to wash my hands is a lifesaver!”

“That flickering bulb is fixed at last!”

“Thanks, A-Jin! Thank you so much!”

“No need to be so polite. Why not teach me a few martial moves in return?”

“Haha!”

A few minor repairs made a world of difference to their daily comfort, showing the impressive results of Jing Pei’s busy afternoon. As the only heir from a Great Family who treated the Tribunal Division with genuine warmth in years, she was already well-liked, but her hands-on help boosted her popularity to new heights. Officers eagerly shared their prized personal snacks with her.

Jing Pei looked at a dried rat in her hands. It looked creepy, so she set it down carefully. Then she picked up a jar of pickled cockroaches floating in liquid and put it down just as gently. Finally, she held up a piece of dried meat from some unknown creature, spotted its sharp beak, and set it back down. Pointy-beaked creatures, stay away!

The officers expressed their gratitude in their own uniquely straightforward fashion.

“Xiao Long fits right in with our division,” An Yan remarked as he walked back from the Central Building alongside Qiu Fa. Watching the warm scene ahead, a satisfied smile spread across his face, like a father-in-law growing fonder of his son’s partner by the day.

Qiu Fa, however, showed no signs of cheer.

By the time Qiu Fa wrapped up his workload and officially clocked off, night had settled over the city, neon lights gleaming across the skyline.

True to her word, Jing Pei had stayed at the Tribunal Division all day.

“I’m taking you somewhere,” Qiu Fa said the moment he walked out, cutting Jing Pei off just as she opened her mouth to speak with a smile.

Jing Pei raised an eyebrow, swallowing her planned words. “Sure! Where are we going?”

“Follow me.” Qiu Fa led her to his car and drove through the bustling city traffic, eventually pulling up outside a portal door that led to a spatial bubble managed by the Capital University Research Institute.

He took out a key.

“My parents gave this to me as a gift for my fifth birthday,” Qiu Fa explained as he turned the lock. “Since it was a special state-issued asset, it couldn’t be transferred, so those people were unable to divide it among themselves during the tragedy.”

Yet the gift had arrived at an unfortunate time, right before the massacre swept through the Qiu family, stripping it of its joyous memories. Only after confirming that Yuan Qing had no hand in his parents’ deaths had Qiu Fa opened the door for the very first time.

As the door swung open, a salty ocean breeze rushed past them, the rhythmic crash of waves echoing right in the middle of the city.

Stepping through the threshold, Jing Pei felt as if she had crossed time and space, her feet landing on a dark coastal rock. Looking around, an endless expanse of ocean stretched out to the horizon. Unlike the dim moon outside, the moon here hung full, round, and silver-bright, casting a shimmering glow across the water and clearing the dark sky.

The subtle weight that had pressed on her heart since noon eased in the sea breeze. Standing in such an open space naturally lifted her spirits.

“Why did you bring me here all of a sudden?” Jing Pei asked, her eyes curving into crescent shapes.

“To make you feel better,” Qiu Fa replied.

Jing Pei blinked in surprise. “How did you tell I was unhappy?”

She wasn’t being arrogant—she truly excelled at hiding her true feelings. It was a skill that seemed second nature to her, so thoroughly refined that even Jiang Qing struggled to read her expression. Throughout the afternoon, no one at the Tribunal Division had noticed anything amiss while chatting and working alongside her.

Hiding her emotions was an automatic defense mechanism. By keeping herself unreadable, she protected her vulnerabilities, avoided harm, and maintained control.

Qiu Fa looked away, his tone even. “My heart isn’t blind.”

Eyes weren’t the only way to perceive the world; eyes could be deceived, but looking with the heart revealed the truth.

Jing Pei’s eyes widened slightly as a sweet warmth bloomed in her chest.

“Wow, you like me that much?” she teased with a mischievous smile, her usual playful persona slipping back into place. Yet beneath her teasing tone, her heart fluttered with genuine delight. “In that case, shouldn’t you devote yourself to me right away?”

Qiu Fa’s ears flushed a vivid red. He turned to glare at her, flustered. “If you knew what the consequences would be, why insist on carrying everything alone? You can tell me right now, and I’ll tell Wu Ying later that I arranged the whole thing.”

Jing Pei maintained her calm smile. “Even if you told her that, she wouldn’t believe it. But it’s fine. Gaining anything in life means accepting the risk of losing it. I’m used to it—it was my choice.”

Her lighthearted words landed like a heavy blow against Qiu Fa’s heart. How much hardship did you suffer to speak about loss so casually?

Just then, a massive, whale-like creature breached the ocean surface in the distance, emitting a long, melodious song before plunging back into the dark water. The sea settled quickly, leaving no trace of the beast.

Jing Pei’s attention was instantly captured. “Is that a whale?”

“A whale from another world. The creatures here differ from those in ours,” Qiu Fa explained. “Do you want to swim?”

“In the ocean?” Jing Pei asked, startled. She had never gone swimming in the sea at night.

“Yes.”

“I’d need to assume my Atavist form to breathe underwater, but I’ve never swum as a dragon before. What if I sink?” Transforming into a dragon was necessary to breathe beneath the surface. She wasn’t particularly keen on night swimming, but doing anything alongside Qiu Fa sounded fun.

“I’ll be with you.” Qiu Fa shed his coat, tossing it aside. The moment he bent down, his body shifted into his full Atavist form, a magnificent beast materializing before Jing Pei’s eyes.

Jing Pei looked up and gasped. The tiger in front of her was bigger than any predator she had ever seen. Its huge shadow covered her, and its golden amber eyes with slit pupils gave off a strong, almost overpowering presence. Black stripes ran across its white fur, while delicate gold and crimson markings traced its face and eyes, making the beast look both noble and dangerous.

What a majestic, gorgeous big cat! He aligned perfectly with her tastes, capturing her heart in an instant.

Noticing her frozen reaction, Qiu Fa assumed he had startled her. He lowered his massive frame, lowering his fluffy head close to her to appear less intimidating.

Far from merely less intimidating, he looked downright adorable—as if he might roll over and present his belly for rubs at any second.

Had he been in human form, Jing Pei might have maintained her composure. But he was a tiger! For someone who had considered moving overseas in her past life just to legally keep a pet tiger, the temptation proved overwhelming. Throwing her arms around his giant head, she rubbed her face against his fur, showering him with affection. “Mwah~ Mwah mwah~”

Her soft body pressed directly against his face. The sensation of her warmth sent a sudden shock through Qiu Fa, causing the mighty beast to freeze completely, his ears flattening back against his head. A ferocious predator, held helplessly in the grip of a young woman.

“I like you so much! You’re literally my dream lover!” Jing Pei giggled, burying her face into his warm, sun-scented fur.

His ears snapped back up instantly, his tiger eyes widening as his slit pupils dilated into round circles. The tip of his thick, fluffy tail flicked upward with uncontrollable joy.

Overwhelmed by her bold affection and sudden confession, the big tiger suddenly straightened his posture and leaped forward, carrying Jing Pei along with him.

Splash! Water erupted into spray as their figures vanished beneath the dark ocean surface.

Splash! The calm water parted once more as a slender, azure-green dragon emerged with her coils wrapped gently around the white tiger’s neck, crisp laughter echoing over the waves.

Jing Pei felt happier than she had in a long time. The depths of this foreign sea brimmed with wondrous life—glowing algae and schools of luminescent fish drifted through the water in vibrant hues, creating a scene so magical it felt like a childhood dream made real.

She had never experienced such pure joy. Neither earning her first writing payout nor returning to school amidst applause and flowers could match a fraction of tonight.

Yet she knew the beauty of the ocean depths was merely the backdrop. What made the night unforgettable wasn’t the scenery, nor holding her favorite tiger—it was having Qiu Fa by her side, devoted to making her smile.

Inside the quiet car on the ride home, Jing Pei wore his coat draped over her shoulders, her cheek resting against his chest. Their fingers remained intertwined, his warm body heat and steady heartbeat filling her with deep peace and affection.