Chapter 40: The Deviant, Nightingale

I stared at Li Ling’er for a long moment, then asked tentatively, “Who is your father?”

“Father?” Li Ling’er repeated the word, her expression perplexed, as if she didn’t understand what it meant at all.

“Who are you?” I asked again.

“Li Ling’er,” she replied.

I realized she knew nothing except her own name.

If Li Ling’er truly was Old Li’s daughter, why would he hand her over to me? Wasn’t he afraid I’d refine her, fusing her into a magical artifact?

Suddenly, I felt this spirit was a burning hot potato—one I didn’t dare touch, yet had to protect. Otherwise, Old Li would probably skin me alive.

“I’m hungry,” Li Ling’er suddenly said.

Hungry? I was baffled. Did spirits need to eat? Food, or meat?

I saw her gaze fixed intently on my chest. Could she want milk?

I touched my chest and suddenly felt the three pieces of Nether Crystal and two zombie nails in the special inner pocket.

Did she want to eat these? The pocket was specially crafted, sealed with a talismanic array to isolate all auras. Could she sense them?

I took out the three Nether Crystals and noticed, to my surprise, that one of them seemed to have faded in color.

“Hungry. Eat.” Li Ling’er’s eyes sparkled, her voice urgent.

I handed her the slightly faded Nether Crystal. She reached out with her translucent hand, covering the crystal in my palm, then closed her eyes.

The next second, the Nether Crystal suddenly radiated a dense, ghostly light. Wild energy surged into Li Ling’er’s spirit body.

After a while, she moved her hand away, looking thoroughly satisfied.

I noticed her spirit looked even more solid than before, and the spiritual energy around her was stronger.

I glanced down at the Nether Crystal—it had faded even more in color.

At that moment, Li Ling’er floated up and disappeared into the piece of mutton-fat jade.

I suddenly recalled the feeling I’d had during my earlier cultivation—the effects were several times better than before. Was it because I’d absorbed the energy from the Nether Crystal?

That meant these Nether Crystals were real treasures.

And these zombie nails probably weren’t ordinary either; they didn’t look like something from a common zombie’s hand.

Dawn broke. I’d only cultivated for two hours, but felt fully refreshed—quite different from usual.

I went downstairs to stretch my limbs and saw Ye Luo, clad in sportswear, running in from outside.

She was petite, but her chest was anything but; as she ran, it bounced so much it made my eyes blur.

“Good morning, Qin,” Ye Luo stopped in front of me, smiling sweetly.

“Morning,” I replied, but my gaze was still drawn to her impressive chest.

Noticing my undisguised stare, Ye Luo’s face—already flushed from exercise—turned even redder. She pouted, “Qin, where are you looking?”

I withdrew my gaze, grinning, “Sorry, couldn’t help it. I was merely admiring.”

“As if I’d believe you. You’re terrible.” Ye Luo crossed her arms over her chest and walked past me.

I chuckled softly to myself, “What a beautiful day.”

A crimson sun broke over the distant river, the trees and grass on the bank coated in frost, and fishermen on their boats were calling out as they hauled in their nets.

I strolled along the river, feeling I hadn’t been this relaxed in ages.

After some distance, I suddenly saw two nuns in gray robes approaching.

They greeted me with a Buddhist chant and stepped aside, serene and gentle.

I thanked them and walked past.

In the distance, I saw golden rooftops on a small hill, with faint chanting drifting through the air.

As I walked further, the crowd thickened—women of all ages, all heading up the mountain.

Then I remembered: there was a nunnery called Tranquil Heart Convent by the river, famous for its incense, but it didn’t welcome male worshippers.

“Hey, buddy, you’re up early too?” A pudgy man sidled up to me, grinning.

I was a bit confused, but before I could reply, he continued with the familiarity of an old friend, “They say Tranquil Heart Convent is the best place in Linjiang to see beautiful women. Not even the art colleges can compare. There it’s all students—too much of the same kind. Here, you get everything: mature women, elegant ladies, lolis—you name it.”

I could only shake my head in disbelief. There really were lecherous types who came to nunneries just to ogle the female worshippers. From what I could see, most were older women anyway.

“What’s that look for? Not impressed? Or perhaps… you’re here for the abbess?” the fat man lowered his voice conspiratorially.

I straightened, “Watch yourself, fatty. Heaven is always watching.”

“Got it, got it, I understand,” he chuckled, then whispered, “Abbess Jingyue—they say she’s the reincarnation of a celestial bodhisattva, untouchable.”

What nonsense. This guy was nuts.

I forced a laugh and was about to leave.

Just then, a broom swept in with a gust of wind.

I leaped aside and saw it smack loudly against the fat man’s backside.

He howled, clutching his rear, as a young nun chased after him with the broom.

He scrambled onto a car, floored the gas, and sped away.

The young nun, fuming, returned, shot me a glare, and stopped in front of me, face set in suspicion. “You’re with that fat guy, aren’t you? You’re no good, either. If you dare harass my master, I’ll break your legs.”

“I’m not—”

“Hmph.”

She didn’t let me speak, just snorted and stalked back to the overly beautiful nun.

“Yunhui, mind your manners,” Abbess Jingyue scolded softly, then approached me, joining her palms. “Amitabha. Please forgive my disciple’s immaturity.”

“You’re too kind, Abbess,” I replied politely. I wasn’t a believer, but showed basic respect for monastics.

She studied me and said, “You carry a shroud of ill will, fierce and restrained, a murderous aura too heavy. If you have time, you should recite the Diamond Sutra and the Pure Heart Mantra more often.”

With that, Abbess Jingyue and the young nun ascended the mountain.

I stood there for a while, realizing this abbess was no ordinary nun.

Just then, my phone rang—it was Xu Bao’er.

“Qin Feng, where are you? I’ll come get you,” she said.

“What for?” I asked.

“You promised to go shopping with me today. Or do you want to go back on your word?” Xu Bao’er sounded a little put out.

Only then did I remember. Since I had nothing else to do, I might as well go.

“Alright, just say where to meet—I’ll come over.”

An hour later, I met Xu Bao’er in the city center at the Baoli Tower.

Shopping really is the ultimate test of a woman’s stamina. The frail types who complain after a few steps can walk all day without tiring when it comes to shopping.

Xu Bao’er was no exception. I didn’t mind though—I just had to play the role of a human shopping cart.

She dragged me first to the men’s section, bought seven or eight expensive suits for me in one go, making passersby look at me as if I were a kept man.

Then she moved on to women’s clothes, and then accessories.

Soon, I was carrying dozens of bags, and by then night had fallen.

Xu Bao’er had me put everything in the car, then led me into an upscale restaurant.

From the sixty-eighth floor, the floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of Linjiang’s nightscape.

I was concentrating on my steak when I suddenly felt a small foot nudging my ankle under the table, then slowly moving upward.

I looked up at Xu Bao’er—she was resting her head on one hand, holding a wine glass in the other, her eyes playful and provocative.

“Don’t play with fire,” I warned, popping a piece of beef into my mouth and putting down my knife and fork.

“I’m not playing with fire,” Xu Bao’er replied.

But by then, her foot had made its way to the inside of my thigh, making me tense up, my gaze turning dangerous.

It had been a while since I’d been with a woman, and my fire was already burning high. With her teasing, it was impossible to stay calm.

Xu Bao’er, unnerved by my stare, quickly tried to retract her foot, but I caught it between my legs.

An awkward silence settled over us. Xu Bao’er lowered her head, biting her lip, her cheeks flushed scarlet.

I lit a cigarette, savoring the moment.

After dinner, Xu Bao’er and I parted ways. As I approached my car and opened the door, she suddenly rushed over, stood on tiptoe, and whispered in my ear.

“Pervert!” she shouted, then click-clacked in her high heels back to her car and sped off.

I rubbed my ear, shrugged, and muttered, “You brought this on yourself.”

…

In the Third Squad’s office building, Chen Ying’en sat at the head of the conference table, her face grim. Niu Dali’s hand was bandaged, Ye Luo and Zhao Zheng were silent, not daring to speak.

Ghost was frantically making phone calls, but none got through.

“Captain, maybe Qin didn’t hear his phone,” Ghost ventured in my defense.

Just then, I pushed open the door, glanced at Chen Ying’en and the injured Niu Dali, and said, “I’m back. Niu, what happened to you?”

Bang!

Chen Ying’en slammed the table and roared, “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I forgot to bring it. Is that any reason to bite my head off? Got frustrated outside and now you’re taking it out on me?” I raised an eyebrow, my tone indifferent.

Chen Ying’en took a deep breath. “Wang Qing is dead, are you aware?”

“I know. She died last night. Her body was saturated with evil energy—she wouldn’t have lasted long. Are you blaming me for this?” My anger flared as I continued, “I was the one who discovered the Black Widow’s tangible evil qi on her, and I traced the Nine Yin site at the Linjiang Grand Theater and the Tushen Cult’s enforcer Tu Mu. Wang Qing’s dead, and now it’s my fault?”

“Credit is credit, blame is blame. According to protocol, any action regarding Wang Qing required my approval as captain. You acted on your own, and now we’re being criticized,” Chen Ying’en shot back.

“Bullshit! You’re just jealous, aren’t you? What’s so great about being a Ninth Bureau agent? I didn’t want the job in the first place—Zhou the Fox begged me to join. You think I care?” I retorted angrily.

“You…” Chen Ying’en, furious, sprang up and aimed a whip kick at me.

I didn’t dodge, meeting her kick with my own. We clashed head-on, neither of us using spiritual power—just pure physical combat.

Desks and chairs went flying as we fought, the others exchanging nervous glances but not daring to intervene.

Bang! Bang!

Our fists collided, then I caught her under the arm, and she caught me under mine. We both strained, then crashed to the ground together.

“Um, Qin, Captain, are you two done yet?” Ye Luo ventured timidly, seeing neither of us able to move.

I released Chen Ying’en and got up, then walked out without a word.

“I… I’ll go talk to Qin,” Ghost said, glancing at Chen Ying’en, who didn’t object, so he hurried after me.

I stood in the courtyard, smoking in silence. In our fight, I’d realized Chen Ying’en had been holding back. Her bones were harder, her muscles more elastic and resilient than mine. Even my strength, which I prided myself on, couldn’t gain the upper hand. She’d gone easy on me, making it look like we’d fought to a draw.

“Qin, Captain had her reasons for losing her temper,” Ghost said quietly as he approached.

“Yeah? Tell me,” I prompted.

“In the Ninth Bureau, aside from the action teams, there’s also the Oversight Division. They keep each other in check, with mutual supervisory authority. Wang Qing’s death wasn’t a huge deal, but because there was a knife wound on her abdomen, it’s been seized on for criticism. Our captain’s old rival in Oversight is using this to punish us—she took all the blame herself and was fined ten thousand contribution points.”

My frown eased a little. “Oversight? How did they know Wang Qing was dead?”

“When Captain and Niu went to the capital to investigate, they discovered issues with Zhong Guofeng and Wang Qing’s daughter Zhong Yue, so they tried to bring the girl back to Linjiang. They were ambushed by the Tushen Cult—both got hurt. This alerted the captain’s old rival in Oversight, who applied for supervisory authority…”

“Who’s her rival?” I asked curiously.

“Nightingale,” Ghost replied.

“A woman, huh? What’s their grudge?” I pressed.

Ghost looked around and lowered his voice, “I’m not entirely sure, but rumor has it—a man was involved. He was in the Ninth Bureau too, died during a mission. Only the Director would know the details.”

So there was gossip like this? Even someone as aloof as Chen Ying’en could get jealous?

Though still somewhat annoyed, my anger had mostly faded.

No wonder Chen Ying’en was so stoic and prideful—her beloved had died. It was understandable, even a little pitiable.

“Where’s this Nightingale now?” I asked.

“Looking for me, handsome?” No sooner had I spoken than a playful laugh sounded behind me.