Seeing Hulda, who had supposedly come back from the dead, Ashley shuddered—what the hell, was this a ghost story?
But upon closer inspection, the roots of “Hulda’s” hair were brown, clearly dyed by someone else impersonating her.
She was stunned for a moment before she immediately understood.
The Four Heavenly Kings feared that the disappearance would attract the police and expose their tomb-raiding operation, so they had someone pose as the victim to cover it up.
With the Four Heavenly Kings’ control, as long as they investigated Hulda’s social connections and threatened her friends into silence, they could keep it hidden for a long time.
But this was just drinking poison to quench thirst; it would be discovered eventually.
Ashley realized that the Four Heavenly Kings were walking further down a path of no return.
She immediately headed to the northern part of the community and found Warehouse Queen Betty, getting straight to the point about the matter.
Betty was startled, her large, bright eyes flickering with the light of contemplation, seemingly weighing how to deal with Ashley.
Gradually, her stiff expression relaxed. She elegantly raised her pretty finger, painted with purple nail polish, the nail trimmed round and looking unusually cute and appealing.
She promised to give Ashley a share of the profits as hush money.
“Sis will give you some pocket money—go ahead and spend it.”
Betty unfastened the pure gold clasp and pulled two 20-pound notes from her crocodile leather coin purse, handing them over.
“I don’t want money. Tell me more about the killer. Is Hulda the first one to go missing? Were there disappearances before her?” Ashley fired off questions in succession.
She couldn’t accept stolen goods. Coming to find Betty was to wipe her ass after shitting her pants, creating a reasonable starting point for her actions—there was no reason to put the pants back on.
“You want to investigate the killer? That’s not your job…” Betty grew tense again, her tone hesitant and wary, her eyes darting around. “If you find out who it is, are you going to report them to the police?”
“What do you mean? If I find out but don’t report it… are you planning to take them out in secret?” Ashley keenly picked up on her intent.
“They’re a murderer anyway. Killing them would just be serving justice,” Betty said, averting her gaze, her lips twitching.
“Have you gone mad? What gives you the right to judge and execute someone?” Ashley furrowed her brows. She felt the situation slipping out of control, like a car with failed brakes hurtling straight toward a cliff.
“So you’re dead set against cooperating with us?” Betty’s attitude shifted from hesitation to resolve, her tone laced with threat.
Ashley jolted, wondering what she planned to do to her.
She leaped back a big step, entering a standoff.
“For disobedient kids, there’s only one way: teach her a harsh lesson with my fingers. I want to dominate everything about you, turn you into an obedient child who wakes up by my side every day and gives me a good morning lick.”
As she spoke, Betty’s cheeks flushed faintly pink. She crossed her arms over her chest, her slender fingertips brushing the boundary between her collar and collarbone.
Her hands were beautiful, with long, distinct joints and milky white skin. She tilted her head, gazing at Ashley with a lazy, seductive look, her soft, lipstick-painted lips parting slightly.
“Y-You roast chicken!”
Ashley retreated in panic. She was a weakling with a physical stat of 5, while the other had at least 20. If caught, she’d likely be played until she broke.
Especially since she had no X experience encountering a skilled veteran. From her crimes, this bad orange was definitely an expert among experts.
She twisted around looking for an escape route, only to find the warehouse door had been shut by Betty’s underlings!
Several big girls stood at the entrance, smirks of ambiguous amusement on their lips.
This was bad! This was a bad orange nest!
Her chamber had one flame bullet left. Pulling the trigger would turn Betty into real roast chicken—crispy outside, tender inside.
“I’m very good at making girls feel good. Don’t resist; once you taste it, you’ll fall in love with the sensation,” Betty said, sauntering toward her gracefully.
Ashley tried to maneuver, but two girls blocked her from behind, grabbing her arms one on each side. She couldn’t move!
No choice—she had to shoot!
Not at people, but at the wall, letting the rebounding heat wave knock them over, then escape in the chaos.
Just as Ashley was about to pull the trigger, she suddenly heard the sound of wings flapping—it was Sasha!
A fire-red big parrot burst through the glass!
What happened next left Ashley dumbfounded. Sasha merely hovered in the air, flapping its wings, and Betty and the girls screamed, fleeing in all directions.
How the heck did I get subdued by these weaklings? Damn it, it must be this loli body’s frailty.
Ashley gritted her small teeth, filled with humiliation inside.
She needed to eat more sumo hot pot, exercise more, turn into a fat loli, and punch this bad orange to bits!
Sasha hadn’t sensed danger to rescue its master; it had come to report, saving her incidentally.
“What? The killer entered the cave?”
Ashley unlatched the door and ran out quickly.
Betty chased after her. Looking in the direction the blue-haired loli fled, she realized something, gritted her teeth, and followed.
After selling the first batch of salvaged items, the Four Heavenly Kings reached a consensus: they couldn’t stop now.
Because it was just too profitable.
Even the lowest-grade Numbered Relic could sell for dozens or hundreds of pounds.
In this world, an ordinary worker’s monthly salary was about 5-10 pounds.
On the black market, fenced goods sold at 50-70% of market price. If caught, not only were the proceeds confiscated, but they had to make up the difference. Since recovery was difficult after multiple handoffs, the final buyer was untraceable.
That was unbearable—like a reverse lottery, saddling them with massive debt and lifelong spending restrictions.
Ashley jumped into the cave. She was still in time; the killer’s scent molecules lingered in the air.
Sasha’s sense of smell was sharper than a dog’s, leading the way ahead.
A few minutes later, Ashley spotted two figures walking along the dark riverbank.
“Donahue, if you dare screw me over, I’ll beat you senseless!”
The speaker was a burly juvenile delinquent, with broad shoulders and thick limbs, like a bear.
“I wouldn’t dare deceive you. That thing’s too heavy for me alone. Look, I’ve only got this one pitiful arm. Without help, I couldn’t do anything but leave it underground. If you sell it, just give me a cut—that’s plenty. I’ll find more for you later.”
The skinny, disabled boy spoke in a sleazy tone, deliberately shaking his empty sleeve to hint at his lack of fighting ability.
Ashley recognized him from the back as the Nabris Avenue arson culprit—Donahue Dick!
There were four arsonists among the juveniles; he was one of them.
Ashley had studied them closely, but this unassuming one had slipped under the radar. No one would suspect a frail, one-armed boy of having a destructive supernatural ability.
In this world, few had encountered a Singularity; most never saw one in their lifetime.
“Donahue Dick!” Ashley shouted.
The boy turned at the sound, eyeing the strange duo of blue-haired loli and red parrot with confusion and wariness.
“Turn around.”
Though Ashley drank milk, she was a cowgirl—cowgirls didn’t shoot in the back.
Donahue hesitated and turned, staring at her in shock.
Ashley pointed at the burly boy beside him and waved her finger. “You, step aside.”
Whether from rebelliousness or dismissing the little loli as insignificant, the boy crossed his arms, cocked his head casually, smirked, and watched events unfold.
As the saying goes, idiots love to laugh.
Ashley turned to the arsonist and said gravely,
“Your murder of Hulda has been exposed! Come with me to the police station and turn yourself in!”
Donahue paled, but his experience killing three, including the tanner, had transformed his mentality. He quickly calmed, his eyes sharpening with cruel light.
The burly boy glanced at Donahue, stepped aside, turned sideways in a defensive stance.
“I didn’t kill anyone. Look, I’m a pitiful one-armed guy who can’t even keep balance while running. This must be a misunderstanding,” the boy said, head down, tone aggrieved.
“You shouldn’t have taken Hulda’s necklace and ring. If I’m not wrong, you haven’t had time to fence them—they’re hidden in your dorm. Those will be decisive evidence. I, a Tribunal probationary investigator, will send you to court!”
Ashley stepped forward, her eyes gleaming as she stared him down!
Faced with this sharp mental pressure, the boy first panicked and instinctively wanted to flee, then bared a ferocious expression, intent on silencing her. His gaze darted between the blue-haired loli and the burly boy.
Smack!
Ashley took another step forward, the crisp sound of her little leather shoe hitting the ground echoing in the cave.
If a slug crawls into a shoe, it becomes a snail!
Donahue’s hand trembled, starting to rise.
Ashley formed her hand into a gun at her waist and said coldly, “I warn you not to use that ability, or I’ll blow your head off!”
