Breakfast was a fleeting bite, a warm breath that thinned like morning mist.

Blade drained the iced coffee, then strode to the vending machine for another. Qianchun wondered how many she drank a day. The tin towers on Blade’s desk didn’t look like a one‑ or two‑day pile.

She held her purpose like a hot coal—questions about the old Aklatia base. As Qianchun knew, Aklatia had once been purged by the Twelfth District with the Order Keeper headquarters.

The old Aklatia kept three stones of wealth: its research center; real estate left in the Twelfth District under its people’s names; and some cross‑district investments not yet converted.

Qianchun wanted to take back part of Aklatia’s land as bedrock for the new Aklatia. Title now sat in the Twelfth District branch’s hands. The terms felt like looting a burning house. Surprisingly, Blade agreed.

Blade called Qianchun in today to tally the old Aklatia land.

In the war room, a broad map unfurled across the blackboard. Magnets bit into the four corners. Blade fetched a handful of pins and pricked the borders of the old Aklatia plots.

“So this is Aklatia’s address… but I don’t believe you’ll hand it over that easy, will you?”

Qianchun snapped photos, slipped the phone into her pocket, and met Blade’s gaze with a fox‑bright glint.

Blade sighed with a crooked smile. Amused, then wary—when did this kid pick up such mischief and teeth? She hadn’t been this shrewd. Who taught her? Blade couldn’t guess.

In a car, Night Frost sneezed in her sleep. Beside her, Ms Feng mistook it for low dosage and pressed another injection, needle gleaming like a cold thorn.

“You guessed right. I can’t give it to you that easily. Aklatia built labs illegally in the Twelfth District. Human experiments, and a string of unethical work. With that precedent, I don’t know what the new Aklatia would do if it got the base back.”

“So to reclaim it, you’ll sign a contract. I’ll bring it shortly. And I’ll assign people to watch you.”

The demand bit a little deep. Qianchun stepped to the map, face set, thoughts thudding. Even with a contract, Blade still wanted eyes inside. She feared Aklatia drifting from the Twelfth District’s leash.

“Isn’t that too much? With how close we are, you still need monitors? That’s mistrust toward Aklatia.”

Qianchun played the feeling card, blocking Blade’s next words in her throat like a pebble in a stream.

Blade only smiled. Being seen through was normal. She tapped the map, voice slow as rain.

“This covers about five thousand square meters, three tiers—upper, middle, lower. Even if you promise no one in Aklatia will play dirty, that doesn’t mean no one will play dirty.”

“With our friendship, I want to trust you. But Aklatia isn’t you. It’s a grab‑bag of saints and sharks. With land this big, I’m scared something will go wrong.”

Her face flipped like pages. One breath, a trickster’s smile; the next, tears like fine rain over a blossom face. It was hard not to see her as a born actress, not a family heiress. Her performance came as easy as fire catching dry grass.

“Yes, yes… right, I get it. The Twelfth District is in a critical hour. Your worry isn’t baseless. But exactly because it’s critical, Aklatia is trying to shoulder this piece of land for you. We should unite, not trip each other. Don’t you think?”

Qianchun laid out the present like stones on a board. She pressed Blade’s weak spot and pushed. She pointed at Aklatia’s plots on the map and kept going.

“Aklatia’s location is neither far nor near. If trouble hits, it’s hard to spill into the Twelfth District or the refugee zones. Aklatia can even serve as a border picket. It’s not far from the frontier. For you, the upside outweighs the downside.”

Blade nodded, unable to refute. Letting the new Aklatia take this land served both sides. It didn’t change her decision to plant monitors.

“Besides, the current Aklatia members were picked by the two of us. How ‘mixed’ could they be? Monitors seem really unnecessary.”

Blade slid a contract from the desk drawer. The terms were crystal clear, each clause like a nail.

“I won’t harm you, little sister Qianchun. Right now, Aklatia isn’t muddied. Later, who knows? Your people won’t do it. Some people will. If your name gets dragged through mud, our cooperation ends.”

Qianchun had no words. Blade’s logic rang hard and clean.

Aklatia would grow, and sooner or later link with other districts. Those districts had probably already noticed this revived ‘old power.’

There are things Aklatia’s people wouldn’t do. There are people who would. When it rots, the name that rots is Aklatia’s. If Blade plants monitors, she can clear Aklatia’s name…

Then why did it feel so wrong?

Qianchun wavered at the ink line—sign or don’t sign. If she agreed, Blade would seep into some of Aklatia’s powers. Any plotting would be laid bare. Only wolves that never threaten the Twelfth District branch get called good dogs.

“Oh—right, little sister Qianchun, you reminded me. That spot’s close to the border. After the disaster, plenty of Monsters lingered there. On the approved roster, only a few modified humans and you have real combat strength, right?”

Qianchun froze. Blade shifted the angle—geography and manpower—and toppled her clean.

Truth was, Aklatia had bodies but few true blades. The old site would teem with Monsters. A handful of modified humans and Qianchun, who barely counted as First Symphony, couldn’t handle that wave.

If they had gear, maybe. But the new Aklatia was so broke the pot’s lid wouldn’t lift. How could they afford weapons?

“I’ll give you Cantata Two strength to clear the path. I’ll fund you, to kit out everything inside the Aklatia base. In exchange, grant me the right to monitor.”

Qianchun felt the trap closing like a silk net. Fact and feeling struck together. She couldn’t help but accept.

There was no other way. The new Aklatia had nothing—no money, no power, no top fighters. It was a sizable group of weak ones. Under absolute money, power, and strength, it could be crushed like dry leaves.

The Twelfth District looked shaky now, but even a starved camel is larger than a horse. Blade could also borrow her family’s weight outside the Twelfth District and flatten Qianchun.

The branch’s reach seeped deeper into Aklatia. Whether that was blessing or curse remained fog.

Qianchun signed her name. The contract sealed like wax cooling.

Blade listed who could move to back Qianchun: Lu Jin, Lu Shi, and Chen Xiaoyin. Others Qianchun knew—Qiu Sheng, Xia Qingqing, Zhang Jialu—were on it too.

With that strength, they could take the old Aklatia site.

This round ended with Qianchun losing. Blade’s old‑fox cunning ran deeper than Qianchun had pictured. She had hoped to bargain a bit longer. Before she finished, Blade reached for the throat.

The monitoring would be hard to swallow. Still, first take the base back. Delay invites change like storm clouds.

Blade had already sent word. The Magic Maidens on the core list received the address of old Aklatia and the request for aid. When Qianchun gave the word, they would move.

You had to admit, Blade’s efficiency cut like a clean blade.

The spatial corridor didn’t reach the old Aklatia site. So Qianchun returned to her rented flat, decided to depart once everyone gathered. After sparring with Blade, her mind felt scoured and tired. She closed her eyes like drawing curtains.

The fear from dawn’s dreams was nothing next to crossing blades with Blade. So she could finally sleep well… for now.

Blade had never faced a young opponent who could push back this hard. She stared at the blackboard, chalk dust like stars. Qianchun was a good seedling, sharp and quick. If possible, Blade would have put her in this chair and walked off to another district for a vacation.

But she wasn’t there yet. Her quick tongue was new growth. The part that needs years to settle—still absent.

Every time Blade faced those old monsters, she fell a step short. The weight of years in them made words slip from her grasp.

“All right. Work.”

Blade popped a coffee, mind snapping back into place. She sat at the desk. The files on screen were disappearances of several branch members on assignment.

Photo after photo breathed a warped chill. No matter how many times she looked, nausea rose like sour tide.

“Shouldn’t have eaten breakfast. If I’d known, I’d have skipped it.”

She pressed down the storm in her gut and kept scrolling. The deeper she went, the colder her skin crawled.

The bodies had been found along the border. Without exception, they were bone piles wrapped in dried skin like parchment.

Their blood and flesh were gone without a trace, as if the meat had winked out of the world.

The corpses had been sent to a volunteer forensics group, hoping for fast results. Blade felt it like thunder behind the hills—leave it, and disaster would brew again.