11 PM, Seventh District Old Neighborhood.
Ling Ling walked alone through the dim alleyway, no longer wearing the Academy uniform from earlier that day but a special outfit she had acquired through the black market.
The black-and-red theatrical costume was tailored to fit her perfectly. Black was the main color, while red outlined intricate patterns at the collar, cuffs, and hem, making her look like a villain who had stepped out of a classical opera.
Knee-high black boots wrapped around her calves, and the heels made crisp clicking sounds against the cement floor.
Her original silver-white long hair had already been transformed by the “Mimicry” supernatural ability into slightly fluffy golden hair, giving off a soft luster under the dim streetlights.
Her face was covered with a black silk mask, revealing only one eye—the ornate mask with a petal pattern covered the left half of her face, while her right eye was an icy blue like the deep sea.
In her hand was a pitch-black cane with a silver iris ornament at the top.
Her current height, under the effect of “Mimicry,” had increased slightly to about 1.6 meters, a few centimeters taller than her original body. Her overall aura was completely different from “White Snow Princess”—if the daytime her was a cold, emotionless, exquisite doll, then at this moment, she was more like a mysterious villain who had walked out of a play.
Code name: “Moriarty.”
‘Hmm, not bad.’
Ling Ling—or rather, Moriarty at this moment—stopped, looked down at her outfit, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
This name was borrowed from a detective novel she had read in her previous life. A criminal professor who manipulated everything from the shadows, a mysterious existence whose stance no one could guess—it was perfect for her second alias.
Unlike “White Night,” which was pure violent intimidation, “Moriarty’s” persona leaned more toward a malicious pleasure in toying with others.
Yes, that was it—malicious pleasure.
She had been angered by Hua Jianxi all day, and the cafeteria shuraba had worn her out physically and mentally. Now she urgently needed some activities to relax.
And for her, beating up a few clueless small fries while also toying with those self-righteous underworld and upperworld people was the best stress reliever.
‘Found them.’
Her blue eyes, visible through the mask, swept toward the entrance of a derelict warehouse not far away.
According to the intelligence she had gathered, a batch of Illegal Awakening Potions had recently flowed from the Third District into the Seventh District, and the transaction was scheduled for tonight, right in this warehouse.
Several men in black jackets stood at the warehouse entrance, holding Standard Ability Rifles, looking around vigilantly.
Ling Ling lightly tapped the cane on the ground, producing a crisp sound.
Those people suddenly turned their heads.
Then, they saw the black-and-red figure under the moonlight.
“Who goes there!?”
Ling Ling did not reply. She just clapped her hands together, then slowly drew a thin sword from the cane.
The blade reflected a cold silver light under the moonlight, echoing the icy blue eye beneath her mask.
“Good evening, everyone.”
She spoke. Her voice was no longer the flat, emotionless “Lin Lingling” from daytime, but carried a theatrical languor and elegance, like a heroine delivering a monologue on stage.
“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”
“…Who the hell are you!?”
One of the big men raised his Standard Ability Rifle, and a stream of bullets coated with elemental supernatural abilities poured from the muzzle.
Ling Ling tilted her body, dodging the bullets.
“Who I am doesn’t matter.”
She took a step forward.
The next moment, her figure vanished from where she stood.
Without using any supernatural ability, purely relying on the Killing Instinct that “Cradle” had engraved into her bones.
The big man only saw a black-and-red afterimage flash from the edge of his vision, then a sharp pain shot through his wrist—his gun hand was hit hard by the flat of the sword, and bone made a crisp cracking sound.
“Ugh—!”
“First.”
Ling Ling said lightly, the Sword Cane drawing a graceful arc in the air, the tip of the sword pointing at the second man’s knee.
Before he could pull the trigger, his leg gave way, and he dropped to his knees.
“Second.”
The remaining few finally reacted and unleashed their supernatural abilities at her simultaneously.
Fireball, ice spear, wind blade—three ability attacks wove into a dazzling net in the narrow alley.
Ling Ling was not afraid. This level of attack was a piece of cake for her current self to dodge.
She wove through the gaps in the attacks, her body sidestepping, bending, and spinning with incredible flexibility, the black-and-red costume fluttering in the firelight. The Sword Cane moved like a silver conductor’s baton, precisely striking every weak point in the attacks.
Then, she lightly touched the ground with the tip of the sword, used the rebound force to leap into the air, and spun gracefully midair.
She then swept the Sword Cane horizontally toward the three in front of her.
The flat of the blade accurately struck the backs of each of their necks, the force controlled perfectly—enough to knock them out for a while, but not lethal.
Landing.
The black-and-red skirt fell softly, her golden hair spread under the moonlight, and that exposed blue eye was filled with a light of almost enjoyment.
Seven or eight people lay scattered at the warehouse entrance, all taken down within seconds.
Ling Ling stood in the moonlight, slowly sheathing the Sword Cane with a crisp metallic ring.
“…So weak.”
She muttered, her tone carrying a hint of disappointment but more of relief.
It felt great to beat people up.
Especially after being annoyed all day by that pink-haired nuisance, going out at night to beat up a few clueless small fries was the perfect stress relief.
She pulled a pre-prepared black sticky note from her pocket—written on it in silver ink were a few lines of neat and elegant handwriting—and casually stuck it on the warehouse’s iron door.
The note read: “I’ve already taken care of these unruly children for you. Next time, remember to manage your own territory. —M”
No extra words, no explanations needed.
The charm of the “Moriarty” identity lay in its mystery.
Making others speculate and guess about her background was exactly the effect she wanted.
Ling Ling took two steps back, admired her handiwork, and nodded in satisfaction.
Playing the role of a mysterious beautiful girl was indeed quite satisfying.
She was about to turn and leave when she suddenly heard a faint sound from deep inside the warehouse.
‘…Someone else?’
Ling Ling tilted her head, and the Sword Cane was drawn again.
She pushed open the warehouse’s iron door and walked in using the moonlight.
The warehouse was filled with wooden crates and debris, and in the corner stood several sealed iron drums. Judging by the labels, they were the batch of Illegal Awakening Potions.
But what surprised Ling Ling was a young man lying in the corner, his hands and feet bound.
He was wearing a dirty white lab coat, with a few bruises on his face, but he was still conscious. Seeing Ling Ling walk in, his eyes first flashed with fear, then turned to confusion.
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