Ice Mediator

By the time they parted that afternoon, the relationship between the two had become quite harmonious.

Kirsty tentatively asked Wu Heng, "I'm having a get-together at my place tonight at 7:00. Would you like to come?"

She looked at Wu Heng with a hint of anticipation. In truth, she hadn't wanted to attend this gathering at all, as it was filled with her father's colleagues who had moved along with the company, as well as some neighbors. More importantly, her stepmother, Julia, would be there.

"I would be delighted to attend. I'll bring a gift when I visit this evening."

Wu Heng did not refuse this opportunity to build a rapport with Kirsty.

"See you tonight, then."

Kirsty took the initiative to step forward and hug Wu Heng. She whispered a soft goodbye before heading toward the house she rented.

Wu Heng stared at Kirsty's retreating figure. The sunlight stretched her shadow into a slender line, and her curls fluttered slightly in the autumn breeze. Her gait was light, and she radiated an air of joy.

Sensing his gaze, Kirsty turned back. Seeing Wu Heng still standing there silently watching her, she turned away in a shy rush, her pace unconsciously quickening.

For a fleeting moment, Wu Heng felt the urge to change her fate, but the thought vanished as quickly as it had come. He was still nothing more than an ant; he could not play the mantis trying to block a chariot.

Kirsty possessed unique potential; in the plot, she was the one chosen by the Cenobites' intermediary, the Hermit, to open the box.

She was destined to intersect with Hell. To rashly intervene might only lead to a counterproductive outcome.

The Cenobites, Leviathan, and the various demons and horrors of this world stood before him like towering mountains that Wu Heng could not yet move.

At the very least, Wu Heng knew Kirsty's future.

However, he knew very little about his own future, the Lighthouse, or Deep Blue Star. Uncertain of the path ahead, Wu Heng suddenly felt a sense of bewilderment.

He clenched his fist, feeling the strength in his palm. Since he was already here, he had no right to choose.

He would simply have to climb upward step by step, striving to grow stronger, and use absolute power to shatter everything in his way.

When that time came, he would naturally have the right to choose.

By evening, Wu Heng arrived downstairs at Kirsty's place, carrying a gift box.

In the streets of Hatton, the area near the center was lined with small buildings interspersed with detached wooden houses. The further one went toward the outskirts, the more common the wooden houses became.

Kirsty rented a place in a residential area near the edge of Hatton's First Avenue. Many of the houses there were vacant, as Hatton did not have a high volume of foot traffic.

"You're here! Come on, I'll take you to my dad's place."

Seeing Wu Heng when she came downstairs, Kirsty greeted him with a happy hug and pulled him along as they walked east down First Avenue.

"Kirsty, I remember you saying you were looking for work to cover your rent. I have a four-unit property on Second Avenue with three units still vacant. You could actually move there; consider it staff housing. It's not very safe around here."

Wu Heng observed the living environment. Although Kirsty was not in danger according to the plot, many Vagrants were crouching in the corners of the alleys nearby.

"I just paid my rent here. Let me ask the landlord tomorrow if I can get a refund."

Kirsty did not refuse. After all, she had already accepted such a high salary; what was the harm in accepting housing as well?

The two chatted all the way to the relocation party.

During the event, Kirsty's father, Larry, recognized the well-known Dean Miranda and invited Wu Heng to drink quite a bit.

However, as Wu Heng was already a Cursed Disciple, no amount of alcohol could make him feel the slightest bit tipsy.

The party ended at ten o'clock in the evening.

There were no pedestrians left on the streets outside.

The two walked slowly back through the alleys of the residential area.

"Dean, do you know why I moved out to rent my own place?"

"Because you don't like your stepmother!" Wu Heng replied decisively.

"Right, you really do understand me!"

"I just don't like Julia. I always feel like that woman is up to no good."

Kirsty had drunk a little at the party, though she wasn't drunk, and she spoke in a low, wistful tone.

Wu Heng knew Kirsty's instincts were correct.

Her stepmother had only been married to her father for a few days before having an affair with his brother, Frank. Even now, while moving back into the wooden house, she spent her time reminiscing about her passionate days with Frank.

"Your instincts are right. But we're walking in the wrong direction, aren't we? This is the way to Second Avenue."

Wu Heng said this casually. During the party, he had indeed felt Julia's restless gaze fixed upon him, but he had no interest in middle-aged women.

Hearing this, Kirsty stopped and looked at Wu Heng with eyes full of longing.

"I'm not going the wrong way. Didn't you say I should move into your place?"

Kirsty's upbringing meant she was not the type of girl to be reserved; once she faced her own heart, she would act decisively.

Hearing the girl's blunt words, Wu Heng looked at the beautiful face of Kirsty, whose eyes seemed to speak for themselves.

The two gradually drew closer...

The next morning, 700 kilometers away at Miranda Manor.

Several people were gathered in the backyard, led by the butler, Markel.

The scene was in complete disarray.

Most of the wooden cabin had collapsed, and the vegetation outside had been uprooted.

On the ground lay a mangled corpse, missing both legs and riddled with bullet holes.

Judging by the remaining patches of skin and clothing fragments, it was a vagrant.

Butler Markel was directing the crew to clear the scene.

The street police who arrived upon hearing the commotion were stopped at the gate and brushed off with a few casual words.

The one million pounds donated to the police department were still proving their worth.

At the same time, Wu Heng received the news; it seemed the trap he had set had sent the Hell Mediator of the Ice Crystal Ball straight to hell.

He told Markel to maintain strict security after cleaning up and not to let anyone from the manor near the backyard.

After buying breakfast and leaving it in his room, Wu Heng headed to the pet shop.

The three girls who worked part-time had finished their break and returned to school.

Wu Heng was forced to clean up the pet shop by himself once again.

As for Kirsty, who was supposed to start her official shift today, she was still asleep in Wu Heng's room.

In a country like the British Empire, the pace of life was naturally fast; as long as there was mutual interest, it was the quickest way to advance a relationship between a man and a woman.

However, the physical constitution of a Cursed Disciple was indeed a bit too much for an ordinary girl to handle.

At the moment, Wu Heng was busy scooping poop for a Samoyed named "Alisa."

The name "Alisa" had been given by the girl of the same name among the three who were there a couple of days ago.

Wu Heng didn't understand why she would name a dog after herself, but he just went along with it.

A black Dersen sedan pulled up in front of the pet shop, and the door opened.

"Sir."

A sturdy middle-aged man in a suit and sunglasses, carrying a black briefcase, approached Wu Heng.

"Did you bring everything?"

Wu Heng asked indifferently.

"I did, it's all in the case."

"Good, just leave it there. You can go now. Oh, and leave the car."

The man in the suit set down the case and turned to get back into the car, but upon hearing Wu Heng's words, he pulled his foot back, prepared to leave on foot instead.

"Forget it, since you're already here, don't leave just yet. Help me look after the pets; I have things to do."

Without waiting for his consent, Wu Heng shoved the shovel in his hand directly to the muscular middle-aged man.

He then took the case into the lounge and opened it for inspection.

Duct tape, body bags, burlap sacks, a shotgun, remote-controlled bombs—nothing was missing.

The middle-aged man in the shop stared blankly at the dog feces stuck to the shovel in his hand.

The pets in the shop were barking and making a ruckus. He felt like crying but had no tears; he had never done this kind of work before. If he had known, he wouldn't have fought for this chance to show off and would have let Number 17 come instead.

Are you willing to trade your collections, monthly tickets, and recommendation tickets for two food storage containers?