Chapter Four: Turning the Tables

Wang Debiao was an ordinary man, unable to distinguish the strength of spirit masters; he only knew that before reaching the Embroidered Guards’ station, danger could strike at any moment.

Yet he voiced no opinion of his own.

He was, by nature, an honest farmer. If not for being pushed to desperation by the village bully, he would never have set foot on this path to lodge a complaint.

At this moment, he followed the two of them to the rideshare pick-up point, his hands awkwardly clasped in front of him. His plain clothes clashed starkly with the well-dressed crowd around him.

Anyone could tell at a glance that he was a newcomer from the countryside.

Bai Yujing noticed his unease and spoke gently, “Mr. Wang, please rest assured. Since we've accepted this order, we will see you safely to the Embroidered Guards’ station.”

He paused, then asked, “Is there something urgent that brings you there?”

“It’s nothing more than having my family destroyed by a spirit master, and finally finding the courage to come to the city to seek justice,” Liu Shuangling interjected before Wang could answer, a mocking smile curling at her lips. “If only you’d thought of this sooner, you wouldn’t be where you are now.”

“Don’t make me electrocute you in public,” Bai Yujing’s tone was calm, but the warning was unmistakable.

Liu Shuangling’s expression shifted. She wanted to retort, but swallowed her words and turned away in frustration.

Wang Debiao gave a bitter smile. “The young lady is right, it was my own cowardice. If I’d come to the city earlier to report this, perhaps Ling’er wouldn’t have…”

Pain twisted his wrinkled face, long-suppressed emotions finally finding an outlet.

“My home is in Wangjia Village, under Huangshi Town’s jurisdiction, about thirty kilometers from Shanghai. The village chief, Wang Fa, is the brother-in-law of the town mayor’s son. The Huang family wields great power locally, often oppressing the people and treating the villagers as prey. Wang Fa acts lawlessly, lording over the village, and insists on spending the night at a different villager’s home every night…”

Wang Debiao’s voice began to tremble. “I wanted to fight him, but my wife held me back, reminding me that our daughter was still young…”

“I endured it, but that beast only became more brazen, and didn’t even spare my daughter!”

Liu Shuangling was about to speak, but caught Bai Yujing’s warning glance and changed her question. “So how did you escape?”

“It was the deputy village chief who showed me the way—he taught me how to file a complaint, how to bring down Wang Fa and the Huang family.” Gratitude flickered across Wang Debiao’s face.

“Hah.” Liu Shuangling sneered at his naïveté. She wanted to say the deputy chief was clearly involved; otherwise, why would the assassins have arrived so quickly? But on second thought, she couldn’t be bothered to point it out.

She had no interest in meddling in such trivial matters.

...

The Embroidered Guards’ station in Shanghai was not located in the bustling city center, but instead sat on the city’s eastern edge.

Along Huanhu Road, traffic was sparse; an occasional car would pass by, casting long shadows across the asphalt.

The driver chatted with his buddy while driving, swapping stories about which roads were clear and how business was that day.

Wang Debiao sat blankly in the passenger seat, gazing out the window. Towering skyscrapers loomed in the distance like steel giants, their glass facades reflecting the sun’s harsh, cold light. Awe mingled with fear in his heart. He longed to return to his village, where most houses were only two or three stories tall.

In the back seat, Bai Yujing’s expression flickered as he glanced behind them. “They finally lost patience. I’ll leave it to you to deal with them.”

“Should we keep one alive for questioning?”

“A promise is a promise. If we said they’re all dead, we kill them all.”

“Well, aren’t you one for keeping your word.” Sometimes, Liu Shuangling felt she was the innocent one here. All she’d ever dreamed of was ruling the world—before she could do anything, she was branded as a villain. Yet this man seemed far more ruthless.

Bai Yujing offered no explanation. His sense of justice and mercy was reserved for ordinary people, not for evil assassins.

Wang Debiao wanted to ask something but, worried about causing trouble for his companions, kept silent.

The driver’s hands trembled slightly, his banter with his friend cut short. What sort of fierce demons had he picked up? They talked of taking lives as casually as chatting about the weather—were they employed by the underworld itself?

Boom!

A deafening explosion shattered the silence. The driver jolted in terror, nearly losing his grip on the steering wheel.

The vehicle’s shadow on the ground suddenly darkened to inky black. The rearview mirror was filled with a blinding flash, as if someone had turned on high beams in the dead of night.

A fireball the size of a house, seething with intense heat, raced toward their car from afar.

Liu Shuangling thrust her hand out the window. “Incantation Thirty-One: Crimson Blaze.”

A spinning fireball sprang to life in her palm and shot forth. In an instant, it swelled into a massive orb three stories high, colliding head-on with the incoming fireball.

Boom!

Twin torrents of flame crashed together in midair, erupting in a dazzling glare. Searing waves of fire fanned out, as if to set the sky ablaze.

But Liu Shuangling’s Crimson Blaze was the greater force.

The flames surged back along their path, striking at the middle-aged spirit master who had cast the spell.

“Aaah!”

A piercing scream rang out as a figure twisted and blackened in the inferno, finally reduced to a charred corpse that plummeted from the sky.

She had used the same incantation as her foe, even skipping the full chant, opting for a simplified version.

Yet her Crimson Blaze was simply stronger.

“Three left. Think you can run? Dream on!” Liu Shuangling didn’t need a mirror to sense the three distinct spiritual pressures hurtling toward their location. After the spellcaster’s death, they scattered in different directions.

She opened the car door and, with a single stride, gave chase, the scenery whipping by.

She caught up to a burly, bald man in a black tank top.

“Die!”

With a roar, Liu Shuangling’s hand became a claw, aiming for the back of his head.

A chill of terror gripped the man’s heart. He stopped instantly, twisting his torso with surprising agility for his muscular build, his right arm snapping toward Liu Shuangling like a steel whip.

With a crash, her clawed fingers pierced his right arm, the sound of shattering bone mingling with the wet rip of tearing flesh.

Half his arm fell to the ground.

Without pause, she gripped his bare scalp, her wrist twisting lightly. The two-hundred-pound giant convulsed like a marionette with its strings cut and collapsed heavily to the ground.

Her figure vanished again, the world blurring past.

Liu Shuangling appeared like a ghost behind a long-haired woman.

The woman was trying to escape through an alley into the crowd, but before she could take more than a few steps, a pair of gentle hands closed around her neck.

Crack.

Her cervical vertebrae snapped like firecrackers, her body twisting like a wrung-out towel.

Liu Shuangling’s eyes showed no emotion. Once more, her figure flickered, appearing before a clothing store.

The last assassin, disguised as a passerby, was trying to slip away under cover of the crowd.

He caught sight of her reflection in the shop window and froze, scalp tingling, body rigid.

Bang!

The next instant, Liu Shuangling’s palm sliced through his skull like a blade, half his head bursting open like a watermelon, splattering red and white all over the glass.

Exhilarating!

Liu Shuangling spun back, catching up with the taxi, the blood on her hands dried by the wind.

She slid elegantly back into her seat, closed the door, and announced calmly, “It’s done.”

“Well done.” Bai Yujing patted her head as if praising a dog that had fetched a frisbee.

Liu Shuangling’s good mood instantly soured.