Angel

London's nights are both quiet and noisy.

The public stayed up all night, trying to learn about the events of the night from the information cocoons they relied on, after all, a series of major events had occurred that day—a car crash in front of Palace of Westminster, body parts floating in the River Thames, an attack on the American Empire embassy, and a devastating explosion in the western suburbs of London.

Even the most oblivious people heard about this series of events.

It was like the prelude to an impending storm.

Small-scale riots even broke out in the streets.

London's law enforcement agencies were all working overtime, standing by in the streets and alleys. Media outlets of all sizes were frantically searching for clues to major news stories. Opposition politicians were making outrageous statements and creating panic on their personal social media platforms and in the media, and all sorts of conspiracy theories were circulating.

The Ireland were the first to be suspected, followed by Scotland and Wales, not to mention people of Middle East and Pakistan descent. Russia were also on the list, and even Black people were not exempt.

Hidden behind social media accounts, people revel, vent, and mock each other wildly. All sorts of people enjoy this unrestrained feast, the fun, the traffic, the catharsis, the benefits, the exposure—everyone gets what they want... But there's only one thing in common: they will never know the truth.

The truth is only circulated and discussed among a few people; it is the silent stares in cabinet meetings, the awkward bewilderment in Parliament, the car driving into the Buckingham Palace under the cover of night, and the orderly operation of the country's various institutions at night, all to bring this farce to an end.

Because tonight, England will once again be appeased.

To put it more politely, it's called wise concessions and courageous compromises.

London Metropolitan Police Headquarters.

"Wait a minute, who are you? I need to call my superior, he's an assistant police officer..."

In the underground parking lot, the gray-haired police officer, pale-faced, backed away. He tried to escape, but two men in black blocked his way. He tried to draw his gun, but a silenced pistol was already pointed at his head. Five minutes earlier, he had been taken away by these agents from the Government Communications Headquarters. He thought it was just a routine questioning, but he sensed death approaching—but why?

The officer tried to call out, but a handkerchief had already been covered over his mouth and nose.

Where are you taking me?

He struggled desperately, but suddenly found that he couldn't muster any strength. A feeling of nausea rose in his heart, and then he felt his body begin to convulse and spasm—in an instant, he was terrified.

The substance on the handkerchief was not an anesthetic.

Instead...

Nerve agent!

His face showed pleading, but it was too late. He was tightly restrained and his mouth and nose were continuously covered. Gradually, the poison continued to take effect. His pupils began to contract, saliva dripped from his mouth, and a foul smell wafted from his pants. He could no longer control his body. He knew that death was approaching. At this moment, only one question remained in his mind.

Why?

What did I do?

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind. He was certain he hadn't broken any taboos. If he had carried out any shady orders in recent months, it was today: he burned a woman's file, ordered the photos to be photoshopped from her colleague's personal electronic devices, and then took the woman to the back door of the police station.

Could it be this?

But why? What went wrong? It was clearly just a...

Painful darkness swept over his vision, swept over his soul, his consciousness gradually faded, his body stopped struggling, and he collapsed limply, a life thus ended.

The agents checked his pulse, pupils, and heartbeat, and confirmed that everything was normal.

"Write an autopsy report, and then write a work injury report."

The lead agent removed his gloves and, along with his handkerchief, threw them into a discard bin he was carrying.

"Take him to be cremated, and have the police headquarters notify the family."

Similar events are happening quietly and unfolding continuously, not only to cut off clues, but also to seize the opportunity to profit. Now that the Round Table has been destroyed, the interest groups closely associated with it have suffered heavy blows and intimidation, which is a golden opportunity to make a fortune. Everyone is a respectable person, and no one will let go of this good opportunity.

The luxurious mansion was knocked on, and the uneasy upper class welcomed a secret envoy into their homes. Their relatives had not returned home that night, and the explosion at the equestrian center had left them unsettled.

The messengers took two documents out of the box: a confidentiality agreement and a transfer statement.

The top-secret property transfer statement seemed absurd and childish, claiming that their family members had died in a terrorist attack, and that a righteous China man had avenged their family members. In gratitude, they were willing to transfer the shares and real estate left by their loved ones free of charge.

--Are you kidding me!

The well-mannered and elegant heirs shouted themselves hoarse, but they quickly slumped down under the persuasion of photographs and envoys. These special envoys were not some random government officials, but well-dressed gentlemen, important figures in the parliament. Their arrival represented a powerful and unyielding will, and they knew what it meant.

Those who don't know, this country will let them know as quickly as possible.

"They all say this is the most shameless plundering Britain has suffered since the Viking invasions," Grand Secretary Yue's voice was filled with resentment on the phone. "If you do the same thing a few more times, you'll become the richest man in the world."

"Hey, Prime Minister, how dare you slander me out of thin air!" Kang De exclaimed, his eyes wide. "I only took some industries from your country; the American Empire stole its hegemonic status from you!"

"..."

A violent, throbbing cough came from the other end of the phone.

After a long pause, he said dejectedly, "In short, persuading them to accept their fate will take time. The number of industries and shares you've extorted is complex, and sorting them out and completing the handover will take a lot of time. You..."

Kang De said happily, "Don't worry, AWSL Company will soon be welcoming a large number of excellent employees. They will take over the management for me. I won't be involved in the operations; I'll only be responsible for counting the money."

"They're all China, right?"

Grand Secretary Yue's voice carried a hint of gloom. "Let me give you a piece of advice: your country may not be happy about what you're doing—many of the industries you've extorted and plundered are core Britain industries. The China are openly interfering, which will inevitably arouse our greater vigilance and suspicion, and is not entirely in line with your country's international policy and national interests... Moreover, in a modern joint-stock company, with the shares you've acquired, you'll at most only have one seat on the board of directors, and you'll only be marginalized."

This is the real reason why Grand Secretary Yue called, even though he was holding his nose.

As for reneging on the deal, it's impossible to do so. Kang De's use of force was secondary; the most crucial factor was the large amount of evidence he possessed combined with that force. This immediately brought out the contractual spirit of the highly educated Westerners—it's impossible to renege on the deal before cleaning up the mess.

However, not resorting to dishonest means that Kang De had formally infiltrated some of the United Kingdom's core industries and vital sectors. Although an extraordinary person wouldn't bother to manage every company's business, he could find someone to do it for him. Given his relationship with the China government, the person he found to do it would inevitably have a strong government background.

That's the most critical issue.

Kang De laughed out loud at the Prime Minister's meaningful hints and warnings.

Grand Secretary Yue said with displeasure, "What are you laughing at?"

Kang De said, "I saw an owl carrying a rotten mouse in its beak; it was so cute."

"..." This statement seemed completely out of the blue. The Prime Minister asked warily, "What?"

"I mean..." Kang De smiled slightly, "You might be too nervous—you think my righteous confiscation of property was premeditated, an attempt to use this as an excuse to seize the assets and shares of those powerful and wealthy individuals, thereby realizing my and my country's plan: to take advantage of your predicament, your inability to resist, and your willingness to compromise, to step into the heart of Britain economy and industry, and in an attempt to control your country's economic lifeline, and even steal your core technologies... Is that what you're thinking?"

Grand Secretary Yue snorted.

Kang De remained all smiles.

"You're overthinking it. I'm not that bored, nor do I want to go through all that trouble. From the beginning, all I wanted to do was acquire some assets and start a small business. I've heard that capital can make money from money, and I'm very interested in that."

"What I prefer is to take your things from you foreign devils with my fists. If you're not happy, I'll beat you up until you're speechless and covering your faces. Don't get me wrong, I'm not targeting your economy and technology. I just want to use your capital, companies, technology, and advantages to make money for myself, and then use that money to buy more things so I can beat you up even better. That's all."

These words were extremely offensive, but Grand Secretary Yue did not fly into a rage.

It's not that I'm not angry.

It's more like a habit.

Today, he has been provoked and mocked more often and more intensely than he has been in the entire past year.

"Kang De!" he said viciously, "Don't be so smug!"

"Oh, so you don't want to talk to me? Why are you still here listening to my sarcasm? Are you going to listen or not?" Kang De said casually. "If there's nothing else, I'll hang up now. I have something to do here..."

"--etc!"

Kang De's laughter made Grand Secretary Yue clench his fist again.

He took a deep breath. "The headquarters of the Round Table... have you discovered anything?"

Kang De chuckled and said, "Guess."

" --Kang De!" he shouted sharply, "Don't forget that this is the premise of our negotiations!"

"Don't be so angry." Kang De was still wandering around the castle, looking here and there. "There are indeed a lot of things from the underworld, all sorts of random things. Oh, there's even a portrait of you in women's clothing here..."

"What a load of crap!"

"Oh, I misread it, I misread it."

Kang De smiled and said, "Let me put it this way, Prime Minister, I don't know what you're looking for, nor do I know what's so important. Why don't you send someone in to find it yourself?"

Grand Secretary Yue asked warily, "You think you're so easy to talk to? What are you up to?"

"What could I possibly be plotting? Didn't you say this was a prerequisite for negotiation? This is my sincerity, so forget it," Kang De said. "I'll have someone dig this place up three feet deep and turn it into a museum..."

"--etc!"

The Prime Minister took another breath. "I'll send someone over right away."

"Let's talk about it tomorrow. We need to clean up the scene; we don't want you to notice anything," Kang De said with a smile. "Our company's finance department will contact you later."

"... What?"

"Finance," Kang De said. "What, trying to get something for nothing? This is my territory, I've conquered it. If your people want to come in, of course they have to pay. Personnel fees, site fees, exploration fees, equipment entry fees, castle wear and tear fees, security fees... all of these need to be paid."

The sound of Grand Secretary Yue grinding his teeth was deafening.

Sometimes, it's not a matter of whether you can afford it or not.

That's a really infuriating question!

"Oh, right, speaking of security, I see some thugs loitering around this castle. The security situation in Britain is really problematic. Prime Minister, remember to send an army group over to guard it, preferably with armed helicopters and fighter jets. Why not just build a large military camp here, and a heavy armored brigade... Oh crap, wait a minute, you're running out of tanks, where are you going to get a heavy armored brigade? What a disgrace! Should I ask your dad to send in Marines to keep things quiet?"

"Fake Ying, remove the putty!"

The friendly telephone conversation ended in a tirade from the Prime Minister.

Kang De put down his phone and laughed.

Horus asked doubtfully, "Should we let the United Kingdom in?"

"What else can we do? We can't just kill them all." Kang De gazed at the lifeless castle, which held many secrets. "Our energy is limited, and the young men don't understand this area. If we want to uncover the secrets of the Round Table from here, it's better to let the United Kingdom do it. After all... we have backups."

With Arthur's death, the White Mist World established a projection of this place, perfectly replicating everything. On Earth, Horus's drones kept a close watch on everything. Whatever the United Kingdom found, discovered, or cleared out here, it would all be under Kang De's control.

"There are still many secrets surrounding the Round Table... This matter is probably not over yet."

Kang De paused here, patting the weathered wall of the castle. "However, this concludes this chapter."

Horus chimed in, "Yes, a resounding victory."

Kang De paused for a moment, then sighed softly, "Not really... I encountered a remarkable soul, and I led my followers to appear before the world for the first time. Many things were changed forever, and some people will be remembered forever. But you're right, we can enjoy the joy of victory first."

Just then, Horus suddenly asked, "How do you plan to explain things back home?"

"No need to explain." Kang De smiled slightly. "Everyone here is intelligent. Seeing that I don't want to talk, they'll pretend to be confused first—alas, it's true that one's own country is always better. It's not about loyalty or trust or anything like that; it's simply because we come from the same nation, the same Civilization, with the same temperament, culture, and heritage flowing in our blood, possessing the same way of thinking, and knowing what each other is thinking."

He walked out of the courtyard.

The corpses of the Round Table's extraordinary beings have been swept into the White Mist World, and all traces of the extraordinary battle have been erased by the Power of the Fire Thief —the alien energy that was scattered everywhere due to the battle is invisible and colorless, drifting in all directions, and cannot be eliminated by conventional means, but can be detected and sensed by certain black technologies of various countries.

However, in the Fire Thief's view, these are like lights in the darkness, extremely conspicuous and easy to erase. They only require mental energy to touch, Extraction, and disintegrate them, leaving nothing behind.

Kang De reached out and withdrew the curtain of darkness.

The dark clouds dispersed, revealing a sky full of stars, and the silver moon hung high, illuminating the earth.

He looked up at the sky, perhaps this scene would be captured by a satellite that had changed orbits to this point, perhaps the true rulers of this world were watching him, their gazes filled with a variety of emotions.

Kang De raised both hands, gave the middle finger, and smiled broadly.

Gentlemen, we'll definitely be dealing with each other for a long time to come.

One night passed.

Today in London, the sky was clear and the air was crisp and cool. At Heathrow Airport, a private jet from China was parked in a quiet corner. The plane was escorted to board by special police and accompanied by diplomatic officials. A beautiful young woman with simple makeup boarded the plane and gently exhaled.

"Miss An, on behalf of the Britain government, I sincerely apologize for the unpleasant experience you had. We will provide you with compensation and cordially invite you to visit Britain again sometime in the future."

An Youyi merely smiled at the United Kingdom's sincere gratitude, a strange light gleaming in her eyes. To some extent, the world seemed less mysterious to her; she understood many things and guessed many things... but that was all. She still had to live in this world.

She bid farewell to the Britain officials who had come to see her off and said to her entourage, "Miss Song, can we take off now? Let's leave... I don't want to stay here any longer."

The embassy official nodded and said, "That's possible, but Mr. Kang..."

An Youyi smiled gently, "He said we should go first... he has something to attend to."

"OK."

Kang De did have something to say about it.

After dealing with the castle, he arrived at the heart of Kensington's business district, the place where An Youyi was kidnapped. It was there that he first met Shalana.

Then came North London, the hideout of the Viking Skull. It was heavily guarded and thoroughly cleaned inside and out. It was here that I first witnessed Shalana's agonizing nightmare, but at the time I was completely unaware of it.

Then came Palace of Westminster, where he left the unconscious Shalana in the chaotic carriage, thinking she would be rescued in a daze and treat it all as a nightmare. Little did he know that this was just the beginning of a real nightmare—an unpredictable outcome and Kang De's regret.

There were many flowers piled up at the corner where the car accident occurred; they were sent by citizens.

God knows what they're mourning.

Kang De stood there for a long time, sighed, and turned to leave.

But just then, a sound reached my ears.

"Sir, sir, could you please take a look? Do you recognize this woman? She was also rescued. She's wearing a blue tracksuit, and her hair is a bit dry... she..."

Kang De turned his head.

A disheveled, even somewhat insane man held a drawing board with a woman drawn on it. It was clear that his drawing skills were terrible, and the woman he drew looked strange, let alone recognizable.

But Kang De's body jolted.

Perhaps it was intuition, or perhaps the man had truly captured the essence of the person he wanted to depict, Kang De immediately recognized the image that the poorly drawn artist was trying to portray.

Sad and compassionate, gentle yet persistent.

The man, holding his easel, looked around asking questions, pleading, earnestly pleading, cowering, and looking disheveled.

He chose to believe over doubt.

I don't believe Shalana is just a character I made up.

But the image of that person had disappeared from his phone photos, and there was no trace of her in his family's photo album. He searched the whole world but could not find any visual or audio evidence of Shalana's existence. He could only rely on his clumsy drawing skills to paint the indelible image in his heart.

He searched all night, hiding from the police and those terrifying men in black.

He was almost caught, but for some reason, just as he was about to be captured, the men in black hurriedly left and did not make things difficult for him.

Even the police ignored him.

He didn't want to delve into the underlying factors; he only wanted to find a shadow from his memory. He asked questions, but was disappointed, and so it went, without getting answers or a definite reply.

"Madam, madam..."

"Sir, please have mercy and take a look at her, if you know anything about her..."

Suddenly, he jolted. He saw a figure flash by. He took a step, staggered after it, crossed the road, and went to an empty alley.

He saw a girl in white, her blonde hair flowing, radiant as the sun, who turned around.

The man's body trembled violently.

This was an incomparably beautiful girl, like the embodiment of light, like an angel descended to earth. Her whole body was enveloped in holy light, as if she had stepped out of heaven, a fairy tale, and a legend—beautiful, pure, and sacred, embodying all that is good and all that is virtuous.

Most importantly, he saw a familiar face in the other person's eyes and brows.

The man stared blankly down at the painting in his hand, then at the girl in front of him.

There was no resemblance whatsoever, yet they were remarkably alike. The girl before me was incredibly beautiful, a world apart from the gaunt and haggard image of Shalana I remembered.

But his intuition told him...

"Shalana... Shalana..."

His legs buckled, and he knelt down, crying, "Shalana..."

A warm light drew nearer, and he saw a flowing skirt. A beautiful angel appeared before him, and he saw the girl reach out her hand, in which a ball of light gathered.

The man shrank back and reached out to take the ball of light, only to find it heavy in his hand.

The light faded, revealing a box as smooth and warm as jade, with distinct lines and a faint glow. Carved on the box was a young angel girl with outstretched wings, bathed in holy light from the sky, like candlelight, exuding compassion and peace.

In that instant, the man seemed to understand something.

He stared blankly at the girl bathed in light. The girl lowered her stunning face, looked at him, smiled slightly, and her slightly parted cherry lips seemed to be saying something. The man understood.

Live well.

Then she unfurled her wings of light, a dazzling radiance spreading outwards. The man stared in astonishment at all this, watching the rising light illuminate the deserted alley. Her beautiful and agile body floated into the air, a smile on her face, flying into the sky, transforming into a beam of light, far away from the suffering world.

In the distance, Kang De, who was watching this place, flipped his hand, and the Miniature Phase Gate opened.

A Mist Crystal appeared.

Within the rising mist, there seemed to be a few stars shining with holy light.

"Thanks for your hard work."

He said, "Take a good rest."

The man in the alley burst into heart-wrenching sobs.

He clutched the box tightly to his chest, the inexplicable emotions hidden in his heart forever unable to be expressed. He truly admired that strong woman, and he knew her story.

"Shalana, Shalana..."

He murmured the name.

He never saw that angel again in his life.

He never forgot her in his entire life.