The masked boss moved with the caution of someone crossing thin ice, stepping to Xu Zhou’s side, yet he ignored the storm-dark look on Ms Feng’s face behind him.
Lu An went to obey and escort Ms Feng to the lounge, his blue-striped hand reaching like a river of cobalt, but she stopped him cold, and he drew it back like a startled fish.
He dared not push it; she was a guest, a willow sheathing steel, and she wielded tech far beyond theirs.
The masked boss closed in on Night Frost, whose Mana-pierced wounds had knit like frost sealing cracks; she waited for the moment, a hawk in still air, to grab the lesser-looking boss as a hostage and slip free.
The earlier tremors had rolled in from outside like drumbeats under the earth; even the deep layers of the Modification Center shook, which meant trouble—Monsters breaching, or a wide-blast detonation, both disasters for injured Zhao Qingsnow and the powerless Kaneko.
Night Frost shot up like a winter swallow; her Spear thrust, the air splitting with a whoosh, the tip arriving at the boss like white lightning.
He slipped aside, rain off a slick stone, and Night Frost only carved a thin scar across his black metal mask.
“Obsidian Stone…”
She hadn’t expected him to wear Obsidian Stone as a faceplate, and the purity gleamed dark as a night lake.
He had strength; his speed nipped at her heels like a hunting dog. One arm was a gleaming Mechanical Arm; the other looked like a claw dragged up from the Abyss. Both snapped out, and Night Frost had to raise her guard, steel on storm.
Xu Zhou and the fish-monster manager didn’t sit and wait for the tide; they lunged in, and the three ringed Night Frost like wolves around a stag. She wasn’t a one-woman army; three-on-one would grind anyone down.
She held on, grit grinding like sand in her teeth. Among the three, the boss wasn’t the sharpest blade; his Mechanical Arm and grafted monster limb paired well, but Xu Zhou’s firepower pressed like a furnace, though maybe he held back with the boss watching.
The fish-monster manager was clearly the weakest link; he threw odd liquids that splashed like oily rain, and his fins were only a little sharp. Night Frost toyed with him like a cat with string.
With a guest present, the boss signaled restraint; even so, two arms and six fists collided like hail on tin, the impact pounding until Night Frost’s defenses shuddered, the rainstorm of blows stealing her breath.
She fell behind, a leaf in a gust, and then the masked boss spoke.
“I know your aim. You want out, don’t you?”
His eyes flickered with a scholar’s lamp, as if he saw her marrow-deep want. He offered a trade, honey over steel.
“Freedom. And a clue to the Key. How’s that?”
Night Frost’s face shifted, a ripple under ice. This masked man seemed certain she carried the Key or knew where it slept.
“What Key? I don’t have a clue what you’re babbling about.”
She bit down on denial, but the word “Key” had struck like a bell; her tremor gave away the truth she tried to bury. He was still a boss of the Modification Center; he wanted proof.
Night Frost swept up a wall of fire, a wave of orange heat that stymied the strange liquids, then turned and ate Xu Zhou’s shot head-on. The bullet left the barrel like a hornet, but she melted it to limp metal mid-flight, and it popped in a spray.
“You’re with that Old Woman, right? She has the Key. You can’t not know.”
The masked man streamed reports on a floating display. Seeker and Order Keeper had chased the Old Woman’s group again and again; all failed, but they’d pinned it down—either Night Frost held the Key, or the Old Woman did.
The Key couldn’t hide inside a Spatial Box. The internal space rejected it like oil to water; force it in and the inner space would collapse like a burst bubble.
Seeker had already pinned Zhao Qingsnow’s team. Frontline notes said the Old Woman didn’t seem to carry the Key, though she could have stashed it; it might just as well be on Night Frost.
They had fought Night Frost for a long stretch, never glimpsing a Key; who knew where she’d tucked it, like a pearl in a clam?
They were forging a grand plan, a bridge over night. Only the Key could open the final door; without District Twenty One’s Key, it was all smoke. Night Frost and the Old Woman were the breaking points.
“What kind of Key makes big shots scramble? I’ve got a house key and a handcuff key, that’s it.”
The masked man knew she knew; maybe she had it hidden like a dagger up a sleeve. He had no leverage—she played dumb, a fox in grass, and he couldn’t kill her, or the path to the Key would vanish, and resources would burn like dry leaves.
Everyone pushed the timeline; if they fell behind, his cherished plan would burst like foam on surf. He was closest now, fingers brushing the latch. He had to seize it.
“I need that Key. It opens the gate to the original world. It’s a force that resets the board, a time with no Order Keeper, no Seeker, no Magic Maiden.”
He had prepared his sermon, each sentence placed like bricks. Night Frost, though pressed, still had breath to listen; she wanted the why behind his hunger.
“This era’s a bad joke. People turned into test stock for scraps of survival. People sold like cheap livestock. I’ve seen Magic Maidens perched above clouds. I’ve watched the world smashed to rubble, a single Magic Cannon flattening a city.”
“Monsters run rampant. The boom of Magic Maidens brought its own disasters. We never had these Monsters before. When light overflows, darkness runs wild; when darkness runs wild, rot devours the land.”
“This Key seals the door of light and dark. It drags the world back to origin. It births a great enterprise. The path of salvation lies within.”
He poured out words like a river. Night Frost listened and nearly laughed; a door to seal light and dark, a cure-all redemption—if he’d dared look down into the human Abyss, where grotesque flesh and whispering hunger churn, he wouldn’t talk like a preacher.
She held her tongue, a swallow on a wire. The Modification Center was built by Seeker and Order Keeper together; its first aim surely tied to District Twenty One’s Key. At such depth, she could even guess another mass of Blood lay under Twenty One.
From his tone, he despised Seeker and Order Keeper; he wanted a world without Magic Maidens. Night Frost felt a cold irony; this place was founded by those two, and his boss’s chair was chosen by them. Playing side games under their roof—was that wise?
Even so, his moves stayed within their net. Senior Wang from Order Keeper said they didn’t know anything past the ninth layer. The top brass likely truly didn’t know what slept below, only guessed with their own colors.
Seeker’s stance was unclear; they acted as if they didn’t care, yet they must be moving pieces. Night Frost just hadn’t seen their tracks.
Even if the masked man had been scheming in shadow, Night Frost couldn’t swear he wasn’t still inside Seeker and Order Keeper’s design.
“Where did you get all this?”
He blinked, then answered.
“A prophecy. I overheard it in a Seeker base. Two Seekers with some clout said it. It should carry a bit of weight.”
Night Frost felt a click in her mind; with Seeker’s craft, he was very likely duped.
“Don’t think I got played. I just happened to pass by; it wasn’t that neat. I kept validating it. What’s below can bring changing power!”
Night Frost saw the iron in him; he wouldn’t bend.
Attacks still hammered like surf against rock. Night Frost’s stamina thinned; keep this up and she’d break.
She had to leave, had to take the boss hostage again, but he was no soft reed; snagging him would be hard.
Ms Feng had drifted behind the masked man like a silent cat. He halted mid-motion. They spoke in low tones, and a deal seemed to seal like wax on a letter.
Suspended, Night Frost watched Ms Feng walk toward her, composed as winter water: a rounded chest under a crisp blouse, neat black hair, a high bridge nose under black frames, a short skirt over high socks biting softly at her long thighs.
Her right eye was dull, like a clouded moon; her left stayed shut, scar-deep, a window that no longer saw light.
Ms Feng stared up, calm as a still pond. Night Frost’s body stuttered—then a huge black shadow sprang from Ms Feng’s back like an ink-winged beast, and it slapped Night Frost down like a thunder palm.
Night Frost hit hard, stars ringing her skull; the shock made her limbs heavy as lead. As clarity trickled back, a needle jabbed into her skin, chill as winter rain, and her mind slid into a quiet, sinking dark.
“Don’t forget our deal.”
The masked man’s face lit like dawn; his plan had inched forward, and Ms Feng had earned the merit.
“Rest easy, Ms Feng. Once she says where the Key’s hidden, she’s useless. You can handle her as you please. Before that, shall we talk gene-tech rights?”
Ms Feng nodded. The masked man snapped at Lu An for his sloppy work, then invited Ms Feng to the lounge, to discuss matters that mattered.
