A part of the plan had gone exactly as planned, and Jing Pei slept well. When she woke, she was ravenous. Her appetite was better than ever, so she had the kitchen make her a “luxury” bowl of plain Yangchun noodles for breakfast.

In contrast, Long Yiming and the rest of the Long family looked worn out. They shot resentful looks toward the person at the head of the table—the true culprit.

“Don’t mind it,” Jing Pei said with a smile. “This is just how things are among the atavist families. You’ll get used to it.”

Right. This is just how things are. She always said it with that gentle smile that somehow left everyone feeling stifled. Yesterday, she had threatened the heads of every atavist family, forced them to bend to her will, and even implied she could overturn the entire system if they didn’t comply. Arrogant didn’t even begin to cover it.

They almost wanted to ask: just how many more surprises are you hiding from us?

…Forget it. Eat your noodles.

Since the young mistress wanted noodles, the kitchen had scrapped last night’s planned menu and switched everything to noodle dishes. Her influence was growing by the day—and no one had any objections. Even Long Peici’s troublesome son no longer dared bring up Long Ling.

“Long Ankang and the others want to move back,” Long Yiming said. “I refused.”

The three of them had moved out earlier to avoid Jing Pei. Now that they had offended the Tang family and Long Ling’s true colors were exposed nationwide, their reputation was in ruins. They couldn’t get by outside anymore and wanted to return under the Long family’s protection—and Jing Pei’s.

As if.

They had brought disgrace upon the Long family. Of course the family would cut ties with them completely. Before this, everyone already knew those three were tied to Jing Pei. When Long Ling targeted Tang Qiaoqiao, no one blamed the Long family. But bringing them back now would mean openly sheltering them, backing them up.

Did they deserve that?

Jing Pei nodded. “Up to you, Second Uncle.”

After breakfast, she slung her backpack over her shoulder, picked up the Black Tortoise shell she had to return to Wu Ying, and headed out for school.

The driver had already been replaced. The Long family had cleaned house yesterday, and Long Yiming had dealt with it in one stroke.

Just then, her watch vibrated. A new email came in.

You claim to know everything. Then do you know who I am?

At the same moment, Jing Pei noticed a hacking attempt. They were trying to trace her through the email route, lock down her network location, and expose her identity.

Of course she knew who it was.

After all, that transfer she had made to herself had been a trap—set just so they would walk straight into it.

Tracking her down online wouldn’t be easy. In her previous life, although writing was her main profession, she had formally studied computer science as well. She liked numbers—especially arranging them. And her ex-boyfriend, whose name she no longer even remembered, had been a world-class hacker. She had picked up more than a few tricks from him.

That said, there were always greater experts out there. Jing Pei wasn’t arrogant enough to think she could never be found. Besides, no one could be on guard forever.

Her lips curved into a faint smile as she typed a reply.

Hello, valued client. If you continue attacking my mailbox and invading my privacy, I’ll have no choice but—to leak the location of your main base to Qiu Fa and the major atavist families, free of charge.

Inside the Atavist Serum Organization—

The man narrowed his eyes at the reply. “He’s bluffing. If he really knew where our base was, why wouldn’t he have sold that intel to Long Jin already? The Long family may have fallen off, but they can still afford that price. I don’t believe it for a second. And what nerve—an intelligence broker talking about privacy. Of all people! Those parasites don’t even know what privacy means!”

He turned to the hacker. “Keep going. I want to know exactly where this guy is—and how he found out we have moles inside the families.”

Now that he knew about the existence of this information broker, his hatred for Long Jin had shifted.

Yes, Long Jin was clever. She had made fools of them. But without the broker feeding her intel about the infiltrators planted in each family, they wouldn’t have been caught like this. Which meant this broker was the one who really deserved to die.

And more than that—

How did he get that information?

The reply came soon enough.

Are you sure you want to continue?

The man typed back:

Heh. If you really know, then say it—where is our base? Let’s see whether you expose us first, or we drag you out first!

Jing Pei glanced at the message, told the driver to wait, and stepped aside to a quiet corner to place a call.

“Hello?” came a low, rough voice on the other end—Qiu Fa had clearly just woken up.

“Good morning, Director Qiu.”

The slightly teasing male voice snapped him awake instantly. “You?”

“Me. You really are impressive, Director Qiu. Too poor to afford intel, yet always managing to benefit from it through others. Quite a talent.”

A vein at Qiu Fa’s temple twitched. He remembered Jing Pei’s promise—to buy him intel worth fifty million.

“You shameless—”

“Do you know any other insults?”

Still half asleep and already dealing with this infuriating voice, Qiu Fa drew a blank. For a moment, he actually couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“…As a token of gratitude, I’ll give you a free piece of intel.”

Jing Pei gave him the location of a key organization facility—one that stored crucial materials for producing the Atavist Serum.

Valuable materials.

Especially now that the organization’s funding had just been halved.

Qiu Fa’s expression turned serious. He had no time to argue. He was out of bed in an instant and already mobilizing.

Meanwhile, back at the organization—

The man knew nothing.

He stared at the silent inbox and sneered. “I knew it. Bluffing. If he really knew where we were, we’d have been wiped out years ago. Would we still be around now?”

Just then, the doctor walked in. “Did you find him?”

Their top hackers were still working on it.

“Almost cracked,” came the reply. “Just need more time.”

…

Mei Yanlan had barely been at the cemetery when her superior’s call came in, squeezing work out of her the moment it could.

She hung up and looked at the boy on the gravestone.

“I have to go. Next time I come… they’ll all be dead. I’ve kept my promise. You can’t say I ignored your words anymore. Wait for me.”

She turned and walked away. The hem of her black dress traced a soft arc, her steps steady—as if heading straight into a destined battle.

Several people passed by her on the path.

One woman slowed, staring at her face.

“What’s wrong? Do you know her?” her companion asked.

“She looks… familiar,” the woman said, puzzled.

But she couldn’t place her. They walked on, stopping at a grave ahead.

Today was his memorial day.

…

The Tribunal Division moved fast—especially when no verification was needed.

By the time Jing Pei reached school, Qiu Fa was already on site.

The base was hidden inside a kindergarten.

No one would ever suspect that such a place—meant to cradle the future—would hold something so toxic.

Fortunately, it was still early. No children had arrived.

Under overwhelming force and with the guards caught completely off guard, the facility was wiped out with ease.

Back at the organization—

The hackers were just about to break through the final layer of encryption.

The man grin turned cruel. He couldn’t wait to teach this broker a lesson. What kind of lunatic sold intel about them and dared monitor them on top of that?

Then the phone rang.

He picked up without thinking.

“Boss! It’s bad—QIU FA IS HERE!!”

The voice on the other end was frantic, on the verge of collapse.

“What?!” He sprang to his feet.

“He wiped out the site—I can’t escape! He’s right behind me—why do they know we’re here, why—AAAH—!”

The line cut off in a scream.

The man stood frozen.

He could almost see it—see the terror on his subordinate’s face as Qiu Fa closed in from behind. His scalp prickled.

How…?

That site was known only to a handful of senior members. None of the moles knew about it.

Then how did the Tribunal Division find it?

At that moment, a new email came in.

Puzzle Intelligence Agency: Consider that site a gift. Next, I’ll send Qiu Fa your main base.

The man’s heart lurched. Cold sweat flooded his palms.

It’s him.

He really knows?!

“Stop! Stop digging—halt everything!” he barked at the hackers.

They couldn’t risk it.

Hands shaking, he fired back a reply:

Friend! Let’s talk! No need to go that far—!

So now he was afraid.

That reaction was almost amusing.

Walking down the school corridor, Jing Pei smiled, clearly enjoying herself.

I was wrong. I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy—you’ve stopped now, haven’t you? Let’s talk things out. Harmony is best in life, don’t you think?

Puzzle Intelligence Agency: I trust there won’t be a next time. I’m just a simple broker who gathers information and sells it. I haven’t committed any unforgivable crimes, have I? If you cross me like this, it’s only fair for me to retaliate, isn’t it?

The man nearly choked on the hypocrisy—but forced himself to agree.

“Test him,” the doctor said coldly. “See if he really knows.”

The man did.

Jing Pei replied instantly—with an address.

Their real base.

Accurate in every detail.

The man stared at it in silence, veins bulging at his temples.

“How does he know…? Is there a mole? There has to be one! Otherwise, how could he know this?!” His thoughts spiraled. Every face in the organization became suspect. “Now what? He’s exposed our base—this is insane!”

“Calm down,” the doctor said. “He’s a broker. He won’t give away intel for free. Ask the price. Buy it outright.”

The man did so, teeth clenched.

“Damn it… paying for our own secrets…”

When Jing Pei sent back the price, he lost it completely.

“ONE BILLION?! Is he insane?! And there’s even a ‘new customer discount’?!! What kind of discount breaks my entire body—?!”

…Then he paused.

“What if he knows who we are too?”

…

In the end, including the identities of several key members, the buyout price came to 1.5 billion.

It hurt.

But it was still cheaper than what the atavist families would pay if they found out this information was available.

Hands trembling, the man transferred the money.

“We’ve emptied everything,” he said weakly. “Boss funding, investor money—everything. There’s nothing left.”

The reply came almost instantly:

Payment received. Honest business, fair prices. Whatever intel you need, I can find. You’re welcome to visit again ^^