Night.
The bustling city streets below were filled with traffic and dazzling lights.
But atop the high-rise, there was only the slightly chilly night breeze and the hazy moonlight, thin as gauze.
Hearing the disdainful female voice behind him, the man in the suit turned around. The melancholy on his face had long since vanished with the night breeze, replaced by a handsome smile.
The man had short, tousled black hair and well-proportioned features. Paired with the deliberately affable smile he wore now, he might as well have had a label stuck to his forehead that read "pretty boy."
"Ken, your smile makes me sick."
Looking at the man's fake smile, the woman who had just stepped through the door made no effort to hide her disgust.
She had wild, wavy red hair and wore no makeup. Dressed in a skimpy tank top and hot pants, she didn't care that much of her skin was exposed to the air.
More accurately—
It was muscle.
At the woman's words, the man she had called Ken shrugged and smiled. "Sivir, a lot of the time, you can't just show people what you're really thinking. It's basic social etiquette."
"That's called being fake."
Sivir gave a disdainful snort.
Ken didn't argue. He held up his phone and waved it at her twice, smiling. "Genbul just hit the jackpot."
"Oh? Good news."
Sivir raised her brows and strode over to Ken. "So, are we waiting for him before we make our move?"
"Of course we are. More people means more security."
Ken smiled as he put his phone away. Then he took out a pack of cigarettes, flipped it upside down, and shook one free, holding it between his fingers. He spoke earnestly. "More importantly, he didn't 'advance' much gambling money this time, so we shouldn't have to wait long."
"Tch. Why did Genbul have to come up with such a troublesome ability? I just don't get it..."
Sivir put her hands on her hips and, as usual, started complaining about Genbul's ability.
Ken lit his cigarette and glanced at her with a smile. "Genbul's luck wasn't bad this time. He hit the grand prize after only a few rolls. If he chooses to 'cash in his chips,' the resulting 'aura' will let him repay the advance with ease. He'll still have enough 'aura' left to blow you apart with one punch. That's the upside of all that trouble."
"Blow me apart with one punch? Who do you think you're looking down on?"
Sivir turned her head toward Ken. Her aura surged, radiating a heavy pressure. She looked like a beast about to devour its prey.
Ken kept his elegant smile and suggested, "If you want to see whether I'm right, you can call Genbul now. Tell him not to choose 'cashing in for what he wants' and to choose 'cashing in his chips' instead."
"..."
Sivir said nothing, only glaring viciously at Ken.
Ken was entirely unfazed and calmly smoked his cigarette.
A moment later.
Sivir reined in her aura and said coldly, "Unlike some people, I won't let 'personal needs' interfere with the mission."
"Mm, excellent."
Ken smiled at Sivir.
His calm, unruffled manner made the veins on Sivir's forehead twitch.
"Creak—"
The rooftop door suddenly swung open.
A young couple walked out, leaning against each other. When they saw Ken and Sivir, they instinctively stopped.
The young woman whispered, "There are people here. Let's go somewhere else."
"Okay."
The young man seemed reluctant. He thought it wasn't easy to find a place where they wouldn't have to spend money.
With his arm around the young woman's, he was about to turn back toward the door.
"Splurt—"
The instant he turned, a sudden soft sound came from beside his ear, and a large amount of sticky fluid splashed across him.
"Huh?!"
The young man stared blankly at the severed arm dangling over his own. It seemed he still hadn't realized what had happened.
Then,
A fierce force slammed into him.
"Splurt!"
The young man's body suddenly burst apart, scattering flesh and blood everywhere.
By the rooftop railing,
Ken pressed a palm to his forehead and looked helplessly at Sivir, who had just pounded the young couple into a bloody mess.
He thought what she'd done was completely unnecessary.
As if she could read the message in his gaze, Sivir stood by the door and looked back at Ken, her tone hostile. "What? Got a problem?"
"No problem. I just think it was unnecessary, and it might cause trouble."
Ken tilted his head slightly and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"Tch."
Sivir strode toward the door, leaving behind a remark full of contempt.
"They were just two ordinary people you could find anywhere."
"..."
Ken watched Sivir leave and flicked his cigarette butt away.
"Though I don't agree with what you did just now, that line... was the most reasonable thing you've said all night."
—
The next morning.
Moyu woke up on time, roused by his biological clock.
Last night, he'd spent two hours practicing punches and kicks against the Shadow Person dummy. He didn't know whether his martial arts had improved, but he definitely hurt...
Building up his "pain tolerance" was a gradual process. He felt he'd been too eager for quick results.
Fortunately, as long as he closed his Aura Nodes and entered a state of "Zetsu," the "pain" accumulated during training faded quickly.
At least for now, Moyu could still endure it, and he was willing to keep at it.
Otherwise, if he ever took one punch and fell to the ground whining, clutching his head and rolling around, it would be ridiculous.
Moyu got up, washed up, and went straight to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
He tossed the blanched meat into an iron pot, added rice and plenty of water, then adjusted the firewood and picked up a broom to clean.
Cheadle had also gotten up early. When she saw Moyu sweeping, she greeted him and offered to help.
Moyu believed that a guest should be treated as one, so he didn't want Cheadle to help with the cleaning. But he couldn't talk her out of it, so he gave up.
With Cheadle's kind help, cleaning the temple actually took longer.
It wasn't that Cheadle couldn't clean. She was simply too particular about everything being spotless...
By the time they finished, the meat porridge in the kitchen was nearly ready.
Moyu added a little salt for flavor, then ladled the porridge into a pot and carried it outside.
"Aren't you going to open the doors?"
After finishing the porridge Moyu had made, Cheadle looked toward the temple's closed gates.
Moyu lowered his head to gather the bowls and chopsticks and explained, "I'm not good at receiving visitors, so I usually keep the temple closed until Hawk comes back."
"But you'd still open the door if someone came, right?"
Cheadle turned her gaze from the gate to Moyu and asked pointedly.
She could guess why Moyu chose to keep the temple closed. He might not be good at receiving visitors, but the main reason was probably that he wanted to focus on training.
"Depends."
Moyu answered casually and stood up with the bowls and chopsticks.
He had barely taken a step when a knock sounded at the gate.
Cheadle propped her cheek on her hand, not the least bit surprised, as if she'd known someone would knock.
Moyu merely glanced at the gate, ignored the knocking, and headed straight for the kitchen.
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