"Next up—you two!" After sealing Lin Bing, the black-clad man turned his gaze toward us. Dark ribbons coalesced instantly. I lunged sideways on pure instinct, dodging the black coffin’s trap by a hair’s breadth.
Beside me, Rui Xin retaliated fiercely, unleashing powerful sonic waves. Yet every blast disintegrated the moment it neared its target—utterly harmless! Amasha clearly possessed some method to shatter sound waves, but we couldn’t pinpoint how.
"Rui Xin, fall back! Your attacks aren’t working—I’ll handle this!"
"But that steam-spewing guy—"
"I’ve got my own way to deal with them!"
"Big talk," sneered the black-clad man. "You can’t even get close to us!"
I charged forward. Another black coffin formed—but this time, I didn’t dodge. Scorching blood surged from my palm, forging a three-meter-long blade.
"Crystal Edge!"
With a crisp *crack*, the blade solidified into dazzling Blood Crystals. Their shimmering light rippled through the air like crimson waves, shattering the black coffin on contact—relentless yet elegant.
"Shattered it outright?! Impossible!" The man paled. Being blown apart from within by bubbles was one thing—but *hacked* open? Ridiculous!
"You think hardening makes you strong?" Su En roared. "I’ll make it *sublimate* this time!" Scalding steam erupted from him, thicker and hotter than before, coalescing into a giant vapor hand that lunged for me.
"*Sublimate*? You overestimate yourself!"
My crystal blade shattered with a *crackle*, each fragment reshaping into bullet form. Hundreds of crimson projectiles locked onto the trio.
"Blood Crystal Pistol!"
*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!* Hundreds of Blood Crystal bullets fired simultaneously, streaking through the air like scarlet lightning—swift as wind, unstoppable!
"Fivefold Black Coffin!" The black-clad man, sensing danger, unleashed his ultimate defense.
Five coffins materialized, layered one inside another—not trapping me, but shielding *them*. So this technique could protect as well as imprison.
*Only five layers?*
*Pity. Fifty would’ve given me pause.*
The black coffins crumpled like cheap cardboard under the crystal barrage, torn apart in seconds. The collision sounded like a warped requiem. Screams erupted from within, mingled with wet splatters—horrifying to imagine.
Rui Xin gaped beside me. I was stunned too. These Blood Crystal bullets were just an upgraded version of my old blood projectiles, meant for suppression—not annihilation.
*This move... they’re probably dead.*
But they’d already killed guards. They wanted me dead. Mercy now meant my own end.
*Sorry, Cleone Clan.*
The screams ceased. The coffins crumbled away. I braced myself for gore—only to freeze.
"Security guards?!"
The mangled bodies on the ground wore security uniforms.
*They swapped themselves with the guards Amasha steamed to death earlier? Where’d they go?*
"They’ve escaped," Sinan Yuan said, stepping forward.
"What about the teleporter?"
"He kept dodging me with teleportation. The moment that black-clad man sealed himself, he vanished. He must’ve rescued them under the coffins’ cover."
"But these corpses used as decoys—"
"Likely that woman’s Anomaly Power. Swapping herself with nearby objects as substitutes."
*I see.* Wait—how was Sinan Ying?
I glanced over. She scowled adorably, violet eyes brimming with tears—whether from her sprained ankle or missing her chance to shine, I couldn’t tell.
*Poor tsundere dragon. Better luck next time.*
Rui Xin, Lin Bing, and Mo Xiaohong high-fived in victory. I stayed silent, uneasy.
*Today’s events... don’t add up.*
The Cleone Clan came here to provoke trouble—but what did they gain? They lost men, failed to reclaim the Crimson-Spotted Gun, and tarnished their reputation publicly. How could they maintain status in high society after this? It made no sense.
Sinan Yuan frowned deeply, likely thinking the same. Catching my gaze, she shrugged helplessly.
---
*Not far from the auction house, a narrow alley—*
"*Huff... huff...* Damn it. A second slower and we’d be dead."
"What’re you complaining about? I nearly died saving your asses!"
"Still... that girl’s terrifying. All of us together couldn’t beat her!"
"Luckily we had this." Amasha waved a device resembling an ordinary police baton, dotted with buttons.
*A jammer!*
"I always thought jammers only countered force fields... never knew they worked on sound waves."
"Hmph. This thing’s full of surprises. Don’t underestimate it."
"Stop bickering and patch me up!" The black-clad man groaned, his thigh and left shoulder pierced by crystal shards.
"Yeah, yeah..."
"Damn it! Thought this’d be quick. Now I’m bleeding. Gonna demand extra pay when we report back!"
"What were the higher-ups thinking? ‘Cause chaos at a Sinan Family business’? What a lousy mission!"
"They must have their reasons. Not our place to question. Just follow orders."
"Tch..."
---
*Inside the auction house, a VIP room—*
Boli Tartalia stood in the dim chamber, rubbing his eyes as he turned from the window.
*Staring too long at a moonlit, starless sky would strain the retina,* he mused.
The thought struck him because this shadowy room felt like that very sky—and the "moon" wasn’t celestial. It was the girl before him.
She showed only her back, yet gazing too long still made his head spin. Boli was over fifty, her bodyguard for a decade, yet he still drowned in her beauty sometimes. As he aged, she blossomed—every year, every *day*, she grew more radiant than the last.
"Using corpses as decoys at the last second... how pitiful for those guards," the girl remarked, her tone teasing despite the words. "That auctioneer too. She’ll probably see charred guard uniforms every time she steps on stage. Will her career end here?"
The breathtaking girl turned, smiling gently.
A stranger might call it a smile "too kind to crush even a bug." To Boli, it was a smile that could "crush a man like a bug."
"But the one who truly interests me... is that blood-controlling girl. What do you think of her?"
"...Honestly? Stunning. The first woman I’ve seen whose beauty rivals yours. And her power is formidable." Lying was pointless—she’d see through it.
"So... the Tartalia Family won’t befriend her?"
*Sharp as ever,* Boli thought. Growing up in that world demanded it.
Indeed, this unknown girl threatened the value of "Imperial Capital’s #1 Beauty"—something the Family would never tolerate.
She locked eyes with him. Thirty years her senior, Boli felt utterly transparent.
"Just as I thought... Those old fossils in the Family are paranoid. They’d do anything over the slightest risk."
"Then how about this?" Her smile returned—less elegant heiress, more mischievous demon.
"Tell the Elders: ‘Lunara Tartalia doesn’t want that girl dead. Not yet.’ Can you manage that?"
"...’
Boli stayed silent, mind racing to decipher her meaning.
*Sympathy for the blood girl? Impossible. She has none.*
He’d watched her grow up, yet still couldn’t claim to understand her.
Lunara Tartalia—sometimes shockingly tender, but that tenderness was fleeting, unreliable. Sometimes shockingly cruel, yet that cruelty too shifted like sand.
Finally, Boli gave up. "Forgive me, Lunara. I don’t quite grasp your meaning."
"Why overthink it? Just as the words say. I’m... *interested* in her."
*Interested?*
*What does that even mean?*
Boli sighed deeply. Lunara merely watched, savoring his frustration.
