Luo Yang switched his champagne glass to his left hand and pulled his right hand from his trouser pocket, returning the gesture to Zhao Xingcheng with proper etiquette.
"Luo Yang, Yuanxing City Punisher Academy."
Zhao Xingcheng's smile froze for a single beat.
That beat was incredibly short, so short that others wouldn't have noticed it at all, but Luo Yang saw it clearly. The other man's eyes flickered toward the upper left—a typical reaction of someone searching their memory.
Luo Yang, Yuanxing City Punisher Academy.
The words cycled through Zhao Xingcheng's mind twice, but they didn't match any name he knew or any rumors he had heard.
Luo Yang smiled, brought the glass to his lips, and took a small sip. The moment the liquid hit his throat, a fine tart-sweetness bloomed at the base of his tongue. The bubbles burst in his mouth, sending a chill down his esophagus.
"I'm just an ordinary local student," he said, lowering his glass. His tone was as casual as if he were remarking on the nice weather. "Nothing special."
Zhao Xingcheng finally snapped out of it, the faint stiffness on his face quickly smoothed over. He leaned forward half a step, adopting an air of "Oh, how rude of me."
"Brother Luo, what are you saying?" His voice dropped lower, carrying a hint of warmth. "Who among those able to come here today to meet Master Qin could be an ordinary person? Even I rushed here from the capital overnight."
Luo Yang held his glass, his thumb rubbing against the condensation on the side.
"Ordinary person."
When those two words jumped out of Zhao Xingcheng's mouth, an irreverent thought suddenly popped into Luo Yang's head.
"Oh?"
He tilted his head, his silver-rimmed glasses reflecting a glint of light under the chandeliers.
"Brother Zhao, your words are quite interesting. In your view, no one who can come here is an ordinary person. May I then interpret this to mean that you have already placed everyone on the top floor of this building—including you and me—above the general populace of the Republic of Shenzhou?"
The smile on Zhao Xingcheng's face jammed.
He stared at Luo Yang for about a second. In that second, his mind was racing. His first reaction was that this kid was looking for trouble. It wasn't unheard of in the circles of the capital for someone to try to corner you with words during a first meeting, testing your bottom line to see how you'd react.
But in that same second, his peripheral vision swept over their surroundings.
Three steps to his left, two middle-aged men in dark formal suits were talking in low voices. One was dressed in a steady, low-profile manner, the classic attire of a veteran official. Further away, by a round table near the window, sat a white-haired elder whose blood energy fluctuations were as steady as a pool of stagnant water—an existence at least at the Dao Manifestation level or higher.
To see Qin Zheng, prominent figures from all over Jiangnan Province had nearly broken their necks competing for a spot.
In this kind of setting, among this crowd...
If the phrase "placing oneself above the general populace of Shenzhou" reached the ears of anyone nearby and got out, it would be enough to cause the Zhao family significant trouble.
Zhao Xingcheng's pupils constricted.
He was a figure from a powerful capital clan; he had been immersed in such things since childhood far more than his peers. He knew all too well the nature of such a statement within the officialdom of Shenzhou. It was absolutely incorrect—a red line that one must never, ever touch.
Thinking of it this way, the intent behind Luo Yang's words changed.
He didn't seem to be looking for trouble, but rather reminding him of the lesson that trouble comes from the mouth.
Zhao Xingcheng's eyes suddenly lit up. He leaned another half-step closer to Luo Yang, lowering his voice to a level only the two of them could hear.
"Thank you for the reminder, Brother Luo."
After saying that, he bent at the waist and gave a deep bow. The angle was so steep that Luo Yang could see the neatly trimmed hairline at the back of his head.
"My phrasing was inappropriate. I will certainly be more careful in the future."
By the time he straightened up, his expression had changed. Carrying sincere gratitude and a hint of self-reflection, he nodded to Luo Yang and turned to walk toward the other side of the room.
After a few steps, he even looked back at him with a gaze that said, "You're a good person; let's talk again if we get the chance."
Luo Yang stood there holding his champagne glass, his mouth opening slightly and then closing.
He had originally just wanted to tease this young master from the capital, and had even prepared a way to give the man an out. Instead, the guy had gone straight for a ninety-degree bow and heartfelt gratitude, completely blocking all the lines he had ready.
He looked down at the bit of champagne left in his glass. Most of the bubbles were gone, and the surface was as calm as a small mirror, reflecting his own somewhat bewildered face.
"...What the hell?"
He downed the rest of the wine in one gulp and set the empty glass on a nearby high-top table.
As time ticked by, more and more people arrived on the top floor.
The elevator doors opened every few minutes, disgorging three to five well-dressed guests. Some were entrepreneurs with graying temples, some were middle-aged military officers in uniform, and a few looked like representatives of hidden clans—reserved in temperament, their footsteps incredibly light as they walked.
Luo Yang leaned against a pillar and pulled his hat back onto his head, lowering the brim to cover half his forehead.
Yu Mingyang arrived at two minutes before two o'clock.
When the chubby boy squeezed out of the elevator, he looked like he had just been fished out of a steamer, his forehead covered in beads of sweat. He was wearing a dark suit that had clearly been pulled from his wardrobe at the last minute; his tie was crooked, and only one of his cuff buttons was fastened.
His gaze swept through the crowd, and the moment he saw Luo Yang, his whole face lit up. He rushed over in a few quick strides.
"Brother Luo!"
"Keep it down," Luo Yang said, gesturing with his chin. "This isn't your backyard."
Yu Mingyang quickly lowered his volume and leaned in close. He swiped a glass of wine from a passing waiter's tray and took a large gulp.
"Holy crap, I'm so nervous," he said, wiping his mouth. "The people in here are scarier than the last. The guy standing next to me in the elevator just now... I felt like the blood energy on him was stronger than several of our academy's instructors combined."
Luo Yang didn't respond; his attention was no longer on Yu Mingyang.
It was two o'clock.
According to the usual practice for such reception events, the protagonist should have appeared on time. Yet a significant amount of time had passed since he arrived, and the legendary Master Qin Zheng was nowhere to be seen.
No one stepped up to give a speech, no one guided the guests to their seats, and there wasn't even a proper opening remark. Everyone was just chatting, drinking, and waiting, but no one brought up the question of when Master Qin would be coming out.
Luo Yang pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen lit up, and the time in the top right corner ticked forward.
14:07.
He put the phone away, his brow furrowing instinctively.
Yu Mingyang was still rambling beside him, probably about his father's past friendship with Qin Zheng and what kind of weapon he wanted for himself. Luo Yang hummed in response, but his mind was elsewhere.
A seven-minute delay was nothing for an ordinary social event. But this was Qin Zheng, the Vice President of the Shenzhou Artisan Association and a Star Initiation rank Punisher. For someone of this caliber, it wasn't unusual for their schedule to be precise down to the minute. Being seven minutes late was definitely abnormal.
He closed his eyes.
Mental power spread silently from his brow like a fishing net being cast, spreading downward from the top floor.
Sixtieth floor, fifty-ninth, fifty-eighth...
In his perception, the structure of each floor transformed into a transparent floor plan. The positions of personnel, the fluctuations of blood energy, and even the sound of water flowing through the pipes inside the walls were all crystal clear.
Fifty-seventh floor, empty. Fifty-sixth floor, a few security guards on patrol. Fifty-fifth floor, someone on the phone.
He kept scanning down. When he reached the forty-ninth floor, his mental power slammed into two extremely dense energy sources.
The two energy masses were right next to each other, less than three meters apart, moving slowly. They moved at a leisurely pace, as if taking a stroll down a corridor together.
Luo Yang's mental power pressed in to sense them, and a heavy feeling of pressure immediately surged in his chest.
Star Initiation rank.
Both of them.
The blood energy fluctuation of one was incredibly stable—stable to the point of being almost deathly still, like a piece of old iron that had been polished for decades, every inch pressed airtight by the years. The other was slightly more active, the blood energy circulation carrying a unique rhythm, as if it were constantly constructing and then deconstructing something in a continuous cycle.
The latter was likely Qin Zheng. An Artisan's way of circulating blood energy was fundamentally different from that of a combat-type Punisher; their energy was used more for sensing materials and shaping structures rather than pure destructive output.
As for the former, it was probably the Qiu family uncle that Qiu Shubai had mentioned.
Luo Yang pulled his mental power back slightly, not probing further. Two Star Initiation rank experts walking together were likely discussing private matters; there was no need for him to eavesdrop.
Just a slight delay; they should be up soon.
He was about to completely withdraw his mental power when Yu Mingyang's elbow suddenly nudged him.
"Brother Luo, when do you think Master Qin will—"
The second half of Yu Mingyang's sentence was swallowed back in fright as Luo Yang's eyes snapped open.
Luo Yang's pupils constricted.
On the forty-ninth floor, at the very moment he was about to withdraw his mental power, seven auras exploded out of the void.
There was no warning, no transition, as if someone had pressed seven ink-black seals onto a blank sheet of paper simultaneously. Those seven auras appeared out of thin air in various corners of the forty-ninth floor, each radiating a sickening, distorted fluctuation.
Luo Yang's mental power was bounced back the moment it made contact with those auras.
Those seven black existences were like seven globs of thick ink, seeping out from the floor, walls, and ceiling of the forty-ninth floor at once. They spread rapidly in Luo Yang's perceptual map, painting the entire floor pitch black.
His detection of everything on the forty-ninth floor was completely severed in less than two breaths.
The two Star Initiation rank energy sources had vanished, swallowed by that patch of black.
Yu Mingyang was still saying something beside him, his voice turning into a blur of noise.
The guests on the top floor were still clinking glasses and chatting, not a single person realizing what was happening eleven floors below.
Luo Yang's Adam's apple bobbed. He pressed his hat brim down further, hiding the sudden chill that had gathered in his eyes.
Rate on N.U.
