A flicker of vigilance passed through Zhu Zhuqing's heart.
Something was wrong with this person. Either he was carrying some kind of secret, someone had instructed him to do something here, or someone who should not have been in Bright Moon City had slipped in.
Zhu Zhuqing did not retreat. Instead, she stepped forward.
Hearing the approaching footsteps, the beggar's body jerked violently, springing up from the base of the wall as though he had been scalded. He staggered backward deeper into the alley, shouting hoarsely as he retreated, "Don't come closer! Don't come closer!"
Zhu Zhuqing's brows drew together.
She hesitated no longer. Her figure flashed, sweeping out like a black phantom and instantly closing in beside the beggar.
Her hand struck precisely at the back of his neck. She controlled her strength perfectly, using only a fraction of her power—enough to knock him unconscious without causing any real harm.
The beggar went limp and pitched forward. Zhu Zhuqing caught him by the back of his collar, holding his entire body up so he would not crash directly onto the cold stone pavement.
She lowered her gaze to the face mostly hidden beneath his tangled hair and confirmed that he had merely fainted. His breathing was steady, and he was in no danger.
Then she raised her head and glanced toward the mouth of the alley.
Bright Moon City's night patrol happened to turn in from the end of the main street. A squad of patrolling Soul Masters in dark blue uniforms was making its way slowly down the road. At their head was a square-faced middle-aged man with a standard-issue short blade at his waist.
Zhu Zhuqing waved to him. The middle-aged man froze for a moment, then hurried over.
"Lady Zhu Zhuqing?" The patrol captain clearly recognized