A surging ice-blue wave crashed toward Abigail, making her body sway back involuntarily. For a moment, she had the illusion of being in the sea, as though wave after wave were about to swallow her whole.
This ability was not without side effects. She suddenly realized that discerning other people's words consumed energy each time, and conversing with two hundred people at once was no less exhausting than running a marathon, even for a single round.
If she had not been an experienced ability user, the feedback after just one round of greetings would probably have completely worn her out.
So she was that unpopular.
Abigail gave a silent, bitter smile. Maybe not one hundred percent, but at least ninety percent of the agents in the hall had shown dislike toward her.
Was it simply because she had interrupted their off-duty lives?
The answer was clearly no. If they truly hated overtime that much, they would not have answered the chief captain's assembly order from the start.
These people disliked her only because she was an "outsider," an inspector sent to find fault with them. Especially after she mentioned that there was a mole, that rejection and distrust had swiftly reached their peak.
How ironic, Abigail thought.
Even Illegal Wanderer had not treated her this badly. As for Honglian, her attitude had been an accepting green.
In all of New City, aside from her adjutant, the two people who treated her best were actually the two people the agency regarded as "enemies."
Of course, Abigail was not particularly surprised by this result.
Otherwise, she would not have preferred asking Honglian for help over borrowing the branch's strength.
In a sense, she was trampling on the agency's discipline.
"Yes, there is a traitor. A traitor secretly colluding with the Gospel Society,