Her body moved on its own, like water slipping downhill to find a path.

Her eyes hooked a weak point, hawk-sharp under cold light.

Her left hand set the angle, a reed in wind, steady and slim.

Then her right hand drove power, like a hammer falling inside her bones.

The blunt wooden tip of a chopstick pierced skin and cartilage. Crimson streamed out like a torn banner.

Yekase left the chopstick in the first fighter who took the hit. She twisted it and forced him to collapse, folding like a chair. Noise swelled again, curses slurred thick as mud. Her heart stayed still as a pond.

She snatched the knife and fork from the table and stepped forward, a shadow sliding across tile.

Ling Ya reached to grab her coat, but Yekase’s hand brushed her off, light as a feather at her back.

“Huh? A hero on scene? We don’t want trouble with bystanders. We’re just here to settle a private dispute with the boss.”

The leader with sunglasses drew his steel back and shouldered it, a crow perching on a branch. The waiter seized the gap and fled, a deer bolting from brush.

He watched Yekase through dark lenses, his gaze cool as glass.

She looked sixteen or seventeen. A thin, common girl, willow-slim. Bare arms showed no training. More telling, her face stayed open except for loose hair, no mask, no guard—nothing a seasoned hero would do under a noon sun.

Hot blood, a spur-of-the-moment show-off.

He tagged the girl as reckless. Threat level, nearly zero.

A lucky ambush taking down one fighter meant nothing. A fluke isn’t proof of steel. Maybe she had training and could be molded. That wasn’t his concern.

But drawing blades against her did him no good. Two tigers on one mountain draw blood for nothing.

“Sorry for disturbing your meal. Jun-cai apologizes to everyone.” His voice went smooth as oil. “That brother ran his mouth and earned a hit. I won’t hold the little miss responsible.”

He sounded sincere, and he sheathed the blade.

They’d swaggered at the waiter, sure, but hadn’t hurt anyone. Yekase had struck first. Facing Sunglasses Man’s words, even knowing he wasn’t as nice as he sounded, she couldn’t just charge again. A storm needs clouds.

Besides, she’d moved on impulse. She wasn’t sure she could take these professional fighters head-on. Stop here. If he saw she lacked steam, the situation would slip through her fingers like sand.

She nodded at him, dropped the cutlery, and went to the sanitizer cabinet. She fetched a fresh set and returned to her seat. The man with the pierced jaw pressed his bleeding wound, stumbling aside, face pale as paper.

The waiter who’d split their beggar’s chicken earlier led the four of them into the back corridor, steps quick as a sparrow.

“Sis Yekase, that was way too rash...” Ling Ya muttered, worry hanging like mist.

“Do you think that was his plan from the start?” Yekase asked, and popped a bite of food. Her tone stayed calm as winter water. “If I hadn’t moved, would they politely avoid hurting bystanders? Do you really buy that?”

Ling Ya and Ling Yi traded looks, lost at sea.

“If that were true, he wouldn’t have drawn steel in the first place. This restaurant’s small. Where else is the manager’s office? Even your knees can guess the back. He claims a personal feud; then they’d never come in blind.”

“Then why cave to you?” Ling Ya asked, brows knit like a knot.

“He saw I could at most drop one more. He brought only three enforcers. Lose a second, and their core goal dies—handle the dispute.” Her voice tapped like beads. “Four people, two wounded. If they walk in and say they’re here to collect protection or whatever, do you think anyone will listen? Saving face against me is small. Failing the job is big.”

“...”

The sisters fell quiet, thoughts turning like millstones.

Ling Yi couldn’t follow the steps, gave up, then laughed. “Yekase, you’re so familiar with the Sinister Organization playbook. And that move—clean and crisp! Whoosh! Slash! Too cool, I was stunned! Did you secretly train?”

“Uh? Not really... it just came naturally...” Her words were smoke, her eyes distant.

“Naturally?!”

Maybe this was her talent, Yekase thought, a taste like iron on her tongue. Using the Sinister Organization’s own rules to stand them off. Nothing to be happy about. Moonlight on a blade isn’t warmth.

If she made that her core skill, one day she’d meet a madman who didn’t care about rules, and that would be the end. A candle blown out by wild wind.

Young hotheads love to pull bayonets; old hands prefer blunt tools. Old hands can push and pull all night, ebb and flow like tide. Meet a single hothead, and a life can end in one lunge.

“Eat up. Forget them,” Yekase said. She poured cola for the two of them. Bubbles rose like tiny stars. “Drink. Why aren’t you drinking?”

“What if they finish up and come out... flip their faces, and hassle us?” Ling Ya asked, anxiety a tight wire.

“Then we run.”

“Uh?” “Run?”

She’d just shown off, and now—run?

Yekase’s voice turned bright as a bell. “And we run like a storm, run like thunder. Let the whole mall hear. Under the vast blue sky, in open daylight, a few errand boys sent by some boss dared to bully ordinary schoolgirls by the curb. If that gets out, can they still hold their heads up?”

“Whoa...” Ling Yi’s eyes lit, surprise like sparks.

“If worst comes to worst, I’ll call the cops and say he groped me.”

“That’s a false report!”

“Our safety’s threatened. Calling the cops is fine. Public resources are meant to be used.” Her tone went dry, a blade tucked behind a fan.

Ling Ya’s face crumpled like she’d seen something filthy. Ling Yi stared in awe, eyes wide as moons. “There’s a move like that?!”

Yekase used the beat and ate Ling Yi’s portion of moon‑beast tentacles in one sweep, the curls silver-green like sea vines.

“Hey! I haven’t even tried it!”

“That’s fast hands win, slow hands lose.”

“Damn it—Ya-ya, attack!”

“As you command!” Ling Ya dove in and tickled Yekase up and down, fingers like feathers. Yekase broke into giggles, laughter spilling like bells.

A waiter arrived and placed a fresh plate of moon‑beast tentacles, steam coiling like dragons.

“Uh, we didn’t add an order, did we?” Ling Yi asked, head tilted, curiosity bright.

The waiter smiled with crescent eyes. “Our thanks to the girls for protecting the shop. If they’d made a mess out here, the repair bill would’ve been huge.”

“This isn’t right...” Yekase hedged, palms open like leaves. “I didn’t drive them off. I don’t know if your boss might be in danger...”

If she accepted a favor now and Sunglasses Man flipped later, she couldn’t justify bolting. A string pulled tight.

“Hey, it’s fine. Our boss is strong.”

“The boss is strong...” Yekase repeated, doubtful fog in her eyes.

A restaurant owner in a mall—how strong could he be? This isn’t a wuxia tale. Hidden masters don’t grow like bamboo.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Yekase turned her head. The three men in sunglasses flew backward out of the kitchen, arcs neat as drawn lines. They hit the floor, tumbled, and rolled out the door like stones.

“...What the—?”

A hidden master? A real hidden master?

Yekase blinked, thought a beat, then flashed Ling Yi and Ling Ya a sunshine-bright smile.

“Feels like this got big. How about we run now?”

“Isn’t the normal arc to draw a blade and help the weak?!” Ling Yi protested, justice flaring like a torch.

“What blade? Move, move! He already saw my face. If he gets up and looks again, he’ll remember. Then he’ll bring a van of people for me.” Her words clattered like pebbles.

Yekase stood and urged them toward the door. She didn’t forget the waiter. “To-go, please!”

She and the waiter worked four hands in a rush. They packed two boxes and a bag, lifted them to hide her face, and slipped out along the wall, shadows hugging shadows.

They walked thirty meters. No footsteps behind them. Yekase let out a breath, long as smoke, and stopped.

“No need to react this hard, right? Didn’t you just say...” Ling Yi started, voice dry.

Well, she did say run.

She never hid it. Not even a sleeve flick.

Ling Yi went speechless, words wilting like grass.

“But we’re almost done. We packed the rest. Pretend nothing happened.” Ling Ya pointed at a signboard, eyes bright as lanterns. “Next... want to browse a gear shop?”

“Eh? A gear shop?”

Yekase heard it and remembered Dual Kings Arsenal, and then the ‘other me’ who builds secret rooms and cuts class—“Dark Yekase,” the unresolved knot, now heavier like storm clouds.

Ling Yi saw her face darken, worry rising like smoke. “What’s wrong? You usually love shops like this.”

“Uh, yeah... perfect timing. I planned to visit this one anyway. Let’s do it now.”

Yekase shook her head, set the heavy thoughts aside, and walked toward a shop called Witchwork Foundry. Though it sat inside a mall, a black curtain hung across the front, a midnight veil that hid the interior and put on airs.

They lifted the curtain and stepped in—

“What... is this?!”

Behind the curtain lay a different sky.

Old stone houses lined both sides, extending forward like a river of brick. Underfoot, a marble walkway shone like wet bone. Above, a sky too clear for any city, washed in blue silk.

“Did we just cross over?!” Ling Yi bobbed her head between the curtain’s edges, checking for illusions like a cat at a doorway. This European‑flavored lane truly lived inside the mall, born behind an ordinary drape!

“Is it a portal... or an illusion?” Ling Ya chased logic, but her knowledge felt thin as paper.

“Whichever it is, we can ask the shopkeeper.” Yekase’s voice settled, calm as tea.

She cooled fast. The owner of this shop—this lane—didn’t hide their strength. They showed it to every customer, open as the sea. Confidence, and marketing. A banner in the wind.

Going straight to the boss felt dull. They strolled down the lane and entered the first room on the left.

A wooden sign hung by each door, painted with its wares. This one showed a hammer and an anvil. Inside, blades and cold steel crowded walls and tables, steel glinting like frost.

“If that’s the case, those signs with pottery, scrolls, gems, chess pieces, and gears...” Ling Ya murmured, eyes sweeping like a fan.

“Yeah. If this isn’t a collective, then the owner’s a monster of many crafts. Each skill good enough to show on stage.” Ling Yi’s voice held awe, a bell’s ring.

Yekase touched a two‑handed greatsword, then wrapped her fingers around the hilt. It felt heavy, weight like a stone trough. But the balance sat true. Even if she couldn’t swing freely, she could steer it, a boat in current.

“Solid. The real thing.” Her voice was flint.

The shopkeeper should be somewhere along this lane, sitting like a spider in a web.

In the corner, the forge still burned. Fire breathed slow, like a sleeping dragon under coals.