The night at the Old Port Warehouse District carried the salty, damp scent of the sea.
Ling Ling—or rather, “Moriarty” at this moment—stood before the ventilation duct entrance of Warehouse No. 3, looking down at the text message from Hua Jianxi on her phone screen.
“PS: Don’t thank me, just treat me to a strawberry cream frost.”
‘…this annoying pink-haired girl.’
She expressionlessly stuffed her phone back into her pocket, her golden hair gently lifting in the night breeze.
Beneath her mask, her ice-blue eyes lifted again, gazing at the dim light seeping from deep within the warehouse.
Since she had obtained the intelligence, her action plan adjusted accordingly.
The original plan was just reconnaissance, but now—that batch of ‘Enhanced Ability·Modified’ must be destroyed.
It cannot be allowed to fall into Ye Qinghai’s hands, and even less can it become a weapon against Ye Fengxue and her father at next month’s Clan Meeting.
“What a pain…”
She muttered softly, her tone carrying a hint of lazy annoyance, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
The sword cane spun in her hand, the tip of its scabbard lightly tapping the iron grating of the ventilation duct.
Click.
The grating opened with a click.
Like a black-and-red butterfly, she silently slipped into the duct.
The interior of the warehouse was larger than imagined.
Rows of iron shelves were piled high with wooden crates and shipping containers; overhead, hanging lamps emitted a dim yellow light, stretching the shadows long.
A dozen or so personnel in black tactical suits were inventorying goods in the central area. The few crates stamped with the Night Owl emblem had already been pried open, revealing neatly stacked rows of silver metal syringes inside.
Ling Ling crouched on a high steel beam, silently counting heads.
Twelve C-ranks, three B-ranks.
And then one more—
Her gaze landed on the man leaning against a crate.
He was around thirty years old, lean and wiry, wearing a long dark-gray trench coat with a Tachi hanging at his waist.
The scabbard was a dull black iron color, without any ornamentation.
A-rank Ability user, ‘Dark Blade’ Nox.
Hua Jianxi’s intelligence had mentioned him.
His Ability was ‘Iron Cutter,’ said to be able to release vacuum slashes that ignored physical defense within a range of several dozen meters.
He was a troublesome opponent, but not one she couldn’t handle.
Ling Ling silently dropped from the steel beam, her black-and-red Performance Costume fluttering in the dimness.
She landed in the shadows at the innermost side of the warehouse, the sword cane lightly touching the ground.
Then, she unhurriedly walked out.
“Who’s there?!”
The first to notice her was a C-rank guard on the perimeter.
He abruptly raised the Ability rifle in his hands, aiming the muzzle at the figure slowly emerging from the shadows.
Then he froze.
It wasn’t just him; everyone who looked over was stunned.
Because the person walking out really didn’t seem like the type to appear in a place like this.
A gorgeous black-and-red Performance Costume, fluffy golden hair, a black petal mask covering half her face.
Her gait carried an elegant composure like a stage actor, as if the ground beneath her feet was not a dusty concrete floor but the red-carpeted stage of an opera house.
The sword cane turned gently in her hand, the tip of the scabbard rhythmically tapping the floor.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Good evening, everyone.”
She stopped, her ice-blue eyes sweeping over everyone present from behind the mask.
“I deeply apologize for interrupting your late-night hauling work. However—”
She tilted her head.
“—would you please hand over those silver syringes to me?”
The warehouse fell silent for a full three seconds.
Then, Nox laughed.
It wasn’t an angry laugh, but one of amusement.
He straightened up from the crate, his right hand casually resting on the hilt, his gray eyes sizing up this uninvited guest.
“Black-and-red Performance Costume, golden hair, and that mask—you wouldn’t be that ‘Moriarty’ or something?”
“The very one.”
Ling Ling slightly bowed, performing a standard stage curtain call.
“I’m honored to have my name remembered.”
“…So these days in the Seventh District, all kinds of pretentious weirdos are starting to come out?”
Nox withdrew his smile, his right hand slowly gripping the sword hilt.
“But it doesn’t matter. Since you know this is Phantom Night’s cargo and still dare to come alone—”
The Tachi left its scabbard.
It was a blade with a wavelike pattern rippling across its edge. The blade reflected the light of the hanging lamps overhead, carving a cold arc through the dim warehouse.
“—It means you’re ready to die.”
Ling Ling looked at the sword in his hand, then slowly drew her sword cane.
The rapier’s blade was nearly half as narrow as the Tachi, but in her hand it was steady as a rock.
“Nice blade.”
She said in a tone like appraising a work of art.
“Too bad the one holding it lacks a bit of skill.”
Nox’s gaze suddenly turned cold.
The next second, he moved.
The Tachi cut through the air, and a visible vacuum slash shot out from the blade, sweeping toward Ling Ling in a fan shape.
The iron shelves along the path were swept by the shockwave, as if sliced in half by an invisible giant blade, the cuts smooth as mirrors.
Boom—!
The entire row of shelves collapsed, splinters of wooden crates and iron pipes flying everywhere.
Ling Ling was prepared.
Her body had already sidestepped and turned before the shockwave hit. The hem of her Performance Costume fluttered in the blade’s wind, and the sword cane traced a graceful arc in front of her, precisely parrying a flying scrap of iron.
‘Heavy.’
The vibration transmitted through her wrist allowed her to instantly assess the power of his slash.
With this level of destructive power, even with her physical condition, she would be injured if she took a direct hit.
However—
“First strike.”
She said softly, her ice-blue eyes looking at Nox from behind the mask.
“A preemptive strike is a good habit, but your slash trajectory is too straight. There’s a 0.3-second window to predict from the start of the motion to the swing.”
Nox’s pupils contracted slightly.
He didn’t reply; instead, he swung three slashes in succession.
Three vacuum blades flew in from different angles, sealing off the dodge routes on both sides.
“Second strike, third strike, fourth strike.”
Ling Ling’s voice remained calm without a ripple.
She didn’t retreat; instead, she continued forward.
The tip of the sword cane precisely touched the edge of the first shockwave—that spot was exactly the weakest point of the vacuum blade.
The sword aura and the sword tip collided.
Emitting a crisp metallic hum.
Then she used the momentum to spin, drilling through the gap between two slashes like a top, her Performance Costume spreading out in the air like a blooming black-and-red flower.
When she landed, she was already on Nox’s left side.
Less than two meters away.
“—You rely too much on long-range attacks. Close combat—can you do that?”
Nox spun around, his Tachi sweeping upward from below.
Ling Ling didn’t block.
She simply leaned back slightly, letting the blade tip brush past the tip of her nose, then thrust the sword cane out like a viper striking.
The sword tip precisely stabbed into Nox’s right wrist.
“Ugh—!”
Nox grunted, and the fingers of his right hand uncontrollably spread open for a moment.
If he hadn’t promptly channeled his Ability to form a defense on his wrist, this strike would have made him unable to hold his sword.
He quickly retreated three steps back, re-establishing distance.
Ling Ling didn’t pursue.
She just stood there, like an actor waiting for the next scene to begin, lightly tapping the ground twice with her sword cane.
Tap, tap.
“Your Ability’s destructive power is formidable—I have to admit that. However—”
She raised the sword tip, pointing at Nox’s hands.
“Whether it’s Ability Enhancement or slash range, it’s all built on the premise that you can swing your sword properly.”
“So, all I need to do is pierce the hand that holds the sword.”
Nox’s expression finally changed.
From contempt to vigilance.
This woman who called herself ‘Moriarty’ was definitely not bluffing.
Her fighting style was like a scalpel—precise yet elegant.
“…Who exactly are you?”
Nox asked in a low voice.
Ling Ling tilted her head.
“Just a passing villain.”
As her words fell, she moved again.
This time, she took the initiative.
The sword cane transformed into a silver lightning bolt in her hand, the tip tracing countless afterimages in the air, stabbing at Nox from all directions.
Nox gritted his teeth and swung his blade to block.
But every strike landed on the blind spots of his sword technique.
The depth of the thrusts wasn’t deep, but the placement was terrifyingly precise.
His movements grew slower; each swing required more effort than the last.
Meanwhile, Ling Ling’s attack rhythm grew faster and faster.
She was like conducting a crescendo symphony, the sword tip her baton, each thrust a note, all the notes strung together into an elegant and lethal movement.