Tomorrow Apartments Rooftop.

Jiang Qianyu looked down at her arms.

Her skin—once delicate and fair—was now worlds apart from when she arrived. Though still tinged with a sickly pallor, it otherwise appeared perfectly normal. Only her joints remained distinctly doll-like. Even her height had increased to 145 cm.

She’d been "upgraded" from a *shoujo* to a *loli*—quite the "improvement," though whether it would continue remained uncertain.

"Could Nightwatcher souls really differ this much from ordinary ones?"

Only after consuming that Nightwatcher did she realize how delectable their souls were.

If an ordinary soul resembled a bowl of coarse mixed-grain porridge, a Nightwatcher’s was like smooth jelly—purer, denser, free of fragmentation.

"I wonder… what would a corrupted Nightwatcher soul taste like?"

With a flick of her wrist, a cascade of Soul Threads poured downward. Jiang Qianyu watched several snap abruptly—more tenants disabled, immobilized.

These Hunters were tougher than expected. Even after she’d cleverly eliminated one first, the rest remained formidable. After all, most fourth-floor tenants were elderly or frail.

Thankfully, she’d prepared a contingency. Without it, these tenants alone wouldn’t have stood a chance.

"Not so restrained after all? Weren’t Nightwatchers forbidden from killing living humans?"

More Soul Threads snapped; some vanished entirely—permanent deaths.

Every tenant was still alive, merely controlled. Eliminate her and the little girl, and they’d be freed unharmed. But if the Hunters killed them? No revival possible.

Jiang Qianyu found it amusing: these four Nightwatchers struck with lethal precision, condemning Lu Yunzhi as a murderer while doing the very same—killing more, faster, without hesitation.

"I wonder what Lu Yunzhi would think seeing this."

A semi-transparent figure materialized behind her. The little girl gazed at Jiang Qianyu’s petite back, hesitating. Those on the fourth floor were stronger than anticipated; normally, she’d have abandoned them.

Before she could speak, Jiang Qianyu burst into loud laughter—a melodious sound that felt utterly maniacal.

The girl didn’t understand. Several tenants were already dead. Shouldn’t she be worried? Once the tenants fell, the Hunters would come. They were dangerous. If they reached the roof, not only Jiang Qianyu but she and her mother would be exposed… possibly killed.

"Aren’t you… afraid?"

"Why should I be?" Jiang Qianyu turned, her voice unnervingly calm. "They’re friends of someone very important to me. A coincidence we met here today. Can you control the tenants? Have them deliver a message for me."

Liu Yongkang lunged forward, twisting his waist as he whipped his arm outward. His brass-knuckled fist slammed into an old woman’s face—nose shattered, blood spraying.

He pressed the advantage, flipping a short knife toward her throat.

She dodged with an unnaturally agile twist, stumbling back. Liu’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, blade glinting.

Suddenly, she spoke: "Are you going to kill me?"

The first words any tenant had uttered since the fight began.

Liu froze. His knife veered sharply past her arm.

*Thud!*

In that split-second hesitation, her claw hammer crashed into his forearm. Crying out, eyes wide, he slashed back—blade slicing cleanly through her throat. She collapsed, life fading fast.

Similar scenes unfolded elsewhere.

As the team’s only female Hunter, Li Dandan was weakest in close combat. Still, knife in hand, she’d just slain an old man. As she raised it toward a middle-aged woman, the woman cried:

"Don’t kill me! Please! My son’s waiting for dinner—he has no one else!"

"I’m not dead! I’m not a monster!"

Sobbing, she lunged. Li Dandan could’ve subdued her easily—but instinct took over. A reflexive raise of the blade. A fatal thrust.

"Aren’t you Hunters? Heroes walking the darkness?"

"Why kill us?"

"We’re just ordinary people! Controlled—how is that our fault?"

"If we could resist, why would we need you?"

"Save me… I’m in pain…!"

"I’m innocent! My eighty-three-year-old father—what happens to him?"

"Break my limbs! I don’t want to hurt you!"

"Mommy… I want to go home…"

"You murderers!"

"You’re Hunters—not judges!"

Voices overlapped across the room, pleading, weeping—as if truly awake. Yet their hands never stopped. Blades and hammers relentlessly targeted the four exhausted Hunters.

The team leader’s heart sank. The stabilized front crumbled again.

Their words were true: controlled, innocent. Controlled by the hidden entity, they lived. Killed by Hunters? True death.

Worse—their pleas clashed with frenzied, suicidal attacks. Chilling. Determined.