“He’d better not sell the intel we’ve bought out to anyone else,” the man growled through clenched teeth, fingers twisting his hair in agitation until the curly fringe at his forehead was nearly torn out.

There were all kinds of information brokers out there. Some of them were barely more capable than private investigators. But he had never seen one on this level.
Where was this person getting their information?
How vast was their network?

The doctor’s eyes flickered as a thought struck him. “Didn’t he say he knows everything? Ask him if he knows anyone capable of helping us advance the Atavist Serum.”

“No way he’d have intel like that,” the man muttered, wasn’t buying it. Still, the doctor was the one truly in charge, so he sent the message anyway.

Not long after, a reply came.

[There is someone I think highly of. Would you like to purchase their intel? A few hundred million, that’s all.]

To hell with that.

The man slammed his computer down in fury. He had to root out the mole inside the organization. Who the hell had leaked all this information to that broker?!

…

No need to get so worked up. A few hundred million was nothing compared to the profits they’d make once the Atavist Serum was fully developed.

Still—manpower gone, raw materials seized, funds drained… for the foreseeable future, they’d have no choice but to lie low.

Jing Pei didn’t intend to wipe the organization out just yet. It still had its uses later on. So instead of crushing it outright, she’d forced it into a temporary standstill.

Compared to the true disaster looming in the future, this organization was barely worth mentioning.

In the original timeline, once the Atavist Serum was perfected, the wealthy scrambled to buy it, the atavist families went berserk, and the common people were squeezed and exploited again and again… Laws collapsed. Government institutions froze. Society spiraled into chaos.

Next to the real endgame boss, the Atavist Serum Organization was nothing more than a side act.

…

There were still other emails in the inbox.

The Puzzle Intelligence Agency had never been widely known among the general public—government agencies actively suppressed that sort of thing. After all, if people went to shadow brokers instead of the police, the consequences could be dangerous.

But among high society, the atavist families, and certain circles, it had some name value.

Several messages were from other brokers. Some wanted to join forces and grow the business together. Some were looking to become her underlings, hoping to benefit from a powerful backer. A few brazen ones even asked how she got her intel, hoping to learn from her.

There were also requests from wealthy clients—information about a husband’s mistress, and the like.

Jing Pei forwarded those low-priority jobs—the kind she had to keep taking to maintain her “broker persona”—to Tao Ze, telling him to handle them with Mo Weiwei.

From now on, those smaller deals would be Mo Weiwei’s responsibility.

Wasn’t that the point of taming him—to put him to work?

…

In just three days, the Twelve Zodiac Academy had been hit by wave after wave of upheaval.

First came the fall of Long Ling, the ultra-popular “goddess” of the Ordinary Division. Her carefully crafted image of kindness had collapsed, slapping countless fans across the face. Many of them were still reeling, too embarrassed to even face others.

Then it came out that the popular teacher Wen Yuxian had a girlfriend. Countless girls were heartbroken—but also shaken by his devotion.
There really was a man who would stay devoted even if his girlfriend turned into a “monster.”
We didn’t fall for the wrong person after all! Our taste is impeccable!

And finally—Jing Pei.

Details were still scarce, but one thing was clear: she had single-handedly protected Wen Yuxian and his girlfriend, worked with the atavist families to set a trap for a criminal organization, and helped capture a large number of offenders.

The school awarded her 500 points—the highest ever given in the academy’s history. No one knew if that record would ever be surpassed.

Her reputation skyrocketed overnight.

As she walked to class, it felt like a celebrity sighting. People gathered wherever she passed. Only the bold dared approach, and even then, a single smile from her left them flustered beyond belief.

Ahhh—she’s so down-to-earth. I’m in love!

…

The mood in class, however, was heavy.

Even Feng Yilian wasn’t playing with his Rubik’s Cube—he was lying face-down, asleep.

Families that had once shared meals, laughter, and trust had turned out to be harboring traitors. Arrested, executed—everything had happened just yesterday. The fact that they had even made it to school today spoke to their resilience.

Tang Qiaoqiao lay slumped on her desk, muttering to herself.

“Teacher Wen has a girlfriend… his girlfriend eats a whole pig in one meal… I can’t even compete in appetite…”

Jing Pei: full of energy.

…

At noon, Jing Pei went upstairs to find Wu Ying.

“You bully the weak… is that it? So if I kill you right now, you’d have no complaints, right? After all, you believe weakness is a sin. That the strong can do whatever they want.”

Jing Pei had just entered the tenth-grade cafeteria when she saw Wu Ying—heroic and arrogant—standing with one foot planted on a boy’s face as she spoke coldly.

Crowds surrounded them.

The girls watched in open admiration, hands pressed to their cheeks. The boys looked at her with a mix of fear, respect, and infatuation.

“Wu Ying, that’s not what I meant! Don’t listen to him, believe me, I—I just…” the boy underfoot struggled to explain.

“Big sister, forget it. Maybe I misunderstood,” said the boy with glasses beside them, his restrained expression and bruise on his cheek highlighting his quiet dignity. “He didn’t discriminate against me for not being an atavist. He didn’t tell me to leave the Wu family either.”

“Shut up. Useless,” Wu Ying snapped. “You’ve entered the Wu family and still let people push you around? I’ll deal with you when we get home.”

“What happened?” Jing Pei asked someone nearby.

They turned, saw her, and immediately lit up. “That guy bumped into Jiang Qing and hit him.”

“And he likes Wu Ying?”

“Yeah—confessed to her, even wants to marry into the Wu family.”

As expected.

Wu Ying lowered her foot and walked over, chin raised. Jiang Qing bent down and helped the boy up, as though nothing had happened.

The cafeteria was loud, even for enhanced atavist hearing. No one caught what Jiang Qing whispered.

“Someone like you dares,” he murmured.

There was no pride in his voice—

only twisted jealousy.

Even a face like that had been stepped on by her. It infuriated him.

The boy stared, stunned. Jiang Qing gave him a small nod, as if apologizing, still the picture of a model student. No one would guess what he had just said.

As Jiang Qing walked away, straight-backed like bamboo, several female atavists nearby sighing about wanting Jiang Qing to marry into their families.

The boy snapped.

“You think he’s so great? His mother used to be Wu Ying’s mom’s nurse. Not even two years after the madam died, she married in—with him in tow! With a mother like that, what do you think he is? You’ll be sold off and help count the money!”

…

By then, Jing Pei and Wu Ying had gone upstairs to eat.

“My dad told me everything,” Wu Ying said with a grin. “Well done. Too bad I wasn’t there—I bet their faces were priceless. No wonder I like you.”

“What’s going on with you and Jiang Qing?” Jing Pei asked.

Wu Ying snorted. “That kid got bullied by servants after he moved in. Learned to curry favor with me. Sure, he studies well—but that’s it. Useless otherwise. Just looking at him annoys me.”

“Alright, we won’t talk about him.”

Jing Pei smiled.

Jiang Qing was no useless bookworm. He was dangerous—the kind of person who would use even his own mother to achieve his goals.

…

He soon returned with two cups of milk tea—one for Jing Pei, one for Wu Ying.

The moment Wu Ying saw the bruise on his cheek, her irritation spiked.

“Get out. Don’t stand in my way.”

“…I’ll go downstairs then,” Jiang Qing said, voice low, eyes downcast. He looked pitiful.

After he left, Wu Ying took off the necklace around her neck—a jade-green dragon scale hanging from it.

“You’ve got guts. Trading me something like this. Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell people where your weak point is?”

“I trust you, Senior,” Jing Pei said with a smile, returning the Black Tortoise shell.

The scale was Jing Pei’s reverse scale—slightly different from the others. Hard to tell at a glance, but obvious up close. Beneath it lay the only fatal weakness in her otherwise perfect armor.

That act of trust only deepened their bond—which was why Wu Ying had lent her the shell in the first place.

“My birthday banquet’s in two days. Can you come?” Wu Ying asked. “It’s always boring—just a bunch of annoying men swarming around. If you show up, I might actually look forward to it.”

After her birthday, Wu Ying would turn twenty. Every year, her family’s banquet was less a celebration and more a selection event. Powerful families sent their best-looking sons in hopes of being chosen—to marry into the Wu family.

Unless they found a normal human partner themselves, this was the fate of most atavists.

Jing Pei would face it too, once she came of age.

“I should be able to make it.”

…

That afternoon, the atavist families finally came to their senses.

Calls poured in. Everyone wanted to know—

how had she known there were moles in their families?

Their tone was cautious, even guarded. It almost sounded like they suspected the Long family of planting spies.

How else could a seventeen-year-old girl, newly returned to this world, know things even they didn’t?

Jing Pei laughed it off.

“I bought the intel from a broker. The same one who worked with the Bai family before. Remember that wedding video of Long Ankang and my mom? Also from him.”

That explained everything.

…

Soon, the Puzzle Intelligence Agency inbox filled again.

[Apologies. You’re too late. The information you want has already been bought out.]

Every family got the same reply.

No negotiation, no price increase.

The organization monitoring this from the shadows finally breathed easier. Good—this broker had professional ethics. Once sold, the intel stayed sold.

Meanwhile, the families were furious, cursing Jing Pei for not mentioning this sooner.

If they’d known, they could have wiped everything out in one move.

…

“Still haven’t found that brat?”

Having just finished filming a variety show, Zhou Yongzi tossed a towel at her assistant and asked casually.

Her manager shook his head. “No clue where he’s hiding. Last known location was the Twelve Zodiac Academy.”

“That Long Jin really sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong. First that kid, then that mutant… how did her family even allow it?” Zhou Yongzi sat before the mirror, removing her makeup, admiring her right eye.

It shimmered with seven-colored light. Dreamlike. She had fallen in love with it at first sight—and decided to make it hers.

And not just that.

That face. That throat.

“If not for her, we’d have caught him already. Whoever did it—bold as hell. Doesn’t feel like a hater. More like a vendetta. Could it be related to… that?”

“And if it is?” A small smile touched Zhou Yongzi’s lips, malice hidden beneath a beautiful, pure face. Her hand traced her cheek. “The strong prey on the weak. That’s just how it is.”

She tilted her head.

“Sometimes, being too beautiful is a crime.”

…

That evening, with no work scheduled, she returned to the Zhou residence and ran straight into Zhou Qian.

“Brother,” she called sweetly.

His expression tightened. He ignored her.

“Aww, why won’t you talk to me?” she teased. “Still upset? Makes sense—you hate someone as fake as me, and then you go and fall for someone just like that. Must’ve disgusted you.”

“Get lost,” Zhou Qian said without looking at her.

…

Elsewhere, a one-eyed boy jolted awake, gasping.

In his dream—her face, soaked in blood. Empty eye sockets. A mouth stretched wide in silent screams that somehow echoed louder than sound.

Grief and hatred surged together.

And beneath them—

power.

He could feel it.
He could finally act.

He had completed his atavist transformation.

Rip her face apart. Tear out her eyes. Ruin her voice. Take back everything that never belonged to her.

And not just her.

The entire Zhou family—every last one of them—deserved to die. Their indulgence, their complicity—it had all led to this.

Especially that man.

The door opened.

Someone entered.

Long Ling, seated in a wheelchair.