Ashley returned to the upper levels of the prison, accompanied by the Little Doctor.
After checking the Cat Loli’s physical condition, Yinsu Helin analyzed:
“Her cognition has been distorted. She believes she’s dead, so she’s stopped breathing. Breathing, heartbeat, urination, and pupil response are all controlled by the autonomic nervous system within the body, also known as the plant nerves. If this part of the nervous system doesn’t react, the person won’t breathe on their own.”
“Being hit in the throat by the ‘Night Demon’s Hand Shadow’ prevents breathing, leading to death in about six minutes. A heart hit causes it to stop in one to two minutes. Urination doesn’t matter—it would just make me more determined to silence her completely,” Ashley analyzed.
With just a moment’s thought, she realized this ability was incredibly powerful. The shadow’s speed matched that of light, severing the autonomic nerves the instant the opponent attacked. The attack range was enormous, and one could only dodge by predicting it.
Moreover, ordinary light sources might mix with personality light sources, making them indistinguishable to the naked eye.
The only limitation was that it required candles made from personality excretions to create the light source for activation.
“Is there any way to restore the severed nerves?” Ashley asked.
The Little Doctor thought carefully and shook her head:
“It’s not a problem with the nerve connections themselves—her cognition has been twisted, and her brain has actively shut them down. Unless we create an entirely new autonomic nervous system independent of the brain’s control, but that’s impossible with the current time and materials.”
Ashley felt troubled. It seemed she still needed reinforcements. The enemy had too many ability users, and ‘Time Bird’ wouldn’t work here. Gun Counter might, but there was no suitable target.
Looking at her own side, only Roy had a barely useful detection ability. The rest were all small fry.
She had the officer escorting the Cat Loli send a message back. Now with solid evidence—both witness and physical—they were sure the Tribunal would send support.
Half an hour later, the supernatural power dissipated, and the Cat Loli resumed breathing.
Ashley placed a dummy corpse in the morgue at the police station and even had the coroner perform a fake autopsy, putting on a full show while secretly sending the Cat Loli out of Card Court Town.
Standing atop the town’s tallest clock tower, Ashley connected to the Starlink System via mirrors, monitoring the escort team to the northwest and the cruise ship to due west.
The escort team left the city far without encountering any ambush. The overt-in-concealment plan had succeeded.
—
Wolf Girl’s cellar.
A woman in palace attire, extraordinarily tall with her head nearly brushing the ceiling, stood before Spade A.
Her thick black hair was like a cloud, topped with an exaggeratedly large curled hat adorned with lace veils. A pure white fox tail draped back from the brim, beside a band woven from white silk roses of varying sizes.
She wore a pomegranate-red satin gown trimmed with white lace and pearls in an imperial style, her hands crossed over her abdomen. Her ten-centimeter-long manicured nails gleamed with metallic chill, interwoven with eerie black-and-red patterns that sent shivers down the spine.
Before her, Spade A—only half a body left, dangling in midair—hung her head low, her pupils dull and gray. Sweat streamed down her forehead and cheeks, her entire face like melted wax, clearly under immense mental strain.
Wolf Girl stood to the side, not daring to breathe.
The woman’s face was cold, her gaze sweeping over Spade A’s mangled remains as she pronounced in an emotionless voice:
“You’re no longer useful. Give her a quick end.”
“I still have value! I’ll prove it! I’m smart! Even crippled, I can still scheme for you! Don’t kill me!”
Spade A lifted her bloodshot eyes and howled desperately, her violent struggles making the chains clatter.
She had luckily survived once, but the path of malice was treacherous—she couldn’t escape in the end.
“Yes.”
Wolf Girl agreed verbally but hesitated to swing her scythe, her knuckles white from gripping it.
“Can’t bear to kill a comrade? Then I’ll do it.”
The woman crooked her pinky finger, slicing Spade A’s skin, and gently pulled.
In an instant, flesh, bones, and even organs unraveled into threads, like a sweater caught by its loose end, disintegrating completely!
A scream echoed from the hollow chest cavity, fading away.
The woman wound the extracted flesh threads around a silver needle into two sharp spindles.
“The Card Court Society president will send a new ‘Witch.’ Replacements are plentiful. But delaying the president’s plan is unforgivable.”
Her movements were unhurried, as if handling not a person but a torn garment. She pocketed the spindles and turned to the girl:
“Let’s go. Our abilities form a perfect pair: ‘Grandma’s Sewing Needle’ and ‘Werewolf’s Intestines and Stomach.’ Together, we’re invincible.”
—
Ashley stood at the station exit, eyeing the passengers disembarking at Card Court Town.
If the Card Court Society wanted to assassinate the rare item collector Coleridge, blending in with the invited guests was their only path.
The river was part of the wilderness, unprotected by Union City, and the Garden of a Hundred Beasts was a 150-meter luxury liner, ablaze with lights visible for kilometers—like a flea on a bald head.
If boarding and assassinating by force were feasible, Coleridge would have died a thousand times over.
Coleridge traveled with a supernatural security team, deterring any would-be attackers.
The group of passengers exiting the station before Ashley were the invitees who had gathered in Fountain City and arrived on the same train to Card Court Town.
Their refined attire, elegant speech, imposing demeanors, and accessories—like carved gem brooches on Cravat collars and silk handkerchiefs embroidered with noble surnames—set them starkly apart from the riffraff. They were clearly high-quality humans.
Vice Captain Roy’s ability allowed him to clearly see the supernatural fluctuations on them and distinguish whether they came from the body or items.
Ashley noted the faces of all the supernatural passengers among them, with one woman in palace attire drawing special attention.
At dusk, the distant waterway lit up with ethereal illusions, like rosy sunset glow rippling on the waves.
Fishermen on boats and passersby on the banks stopped to stare at the exquisite, colossal creation gliding through mist and phantom lights. As it parted the peaks, sprays of white foam carried waves of damp air.
The liner had three decks above the hull, their panels and decks glowing with soft membrane light. Fishermen had only seen such dreamlike textures inside pearl oysters; a little imagination suggested the ship brimmed with pearl-like treasures.
As the liner approached, the massive glass pool on the second main deck and the heavenly furnishings visible through floor-to-ceiling windows exceeded all expectations. Onlookers held their breath, hearts swelling with awe and admiration.
As the ship docked, a handrail-equipped gangway lowered slowly. Six uniformed attendants stood at attention in pairs at the front, middle, and rear, forming a small honor guard.
Ashley approached the gangway, flashed her credentials, and said to an attendant:
“Tribunal Investigation Department Seventh Group Captain Ashley requests to see Mr. Coleridge.”
The attendant left briefly and returned:
“The gentleman asks you to state your business.”
Ashley was stunned. Backed by the Tribunal’s immense authority, she wasn’t invited aboard or met personally—they just relayed messages. She had her answer.
This guy probably had something shady on board.
She sneered. “Not even a walkie-talkie?”
The attendant reported to his supervisor via walkie-talkie, got approval, tuned it, and handed it to the Blue-Haired Loli.
“What’s the matter?” a rich, deep male voice asked from the receiver.
“Someone wants to assassinate you,” Ashley said bluntly.
“Hahahaha…”
The man laughed amid coughs, as if choking on water. After a long bout, he gasped:
“You—you want money, right? This extortion is too clumsy. Still, I’ll reward you—your stupidity amused me.”
As expected, idiots love to laugh. Ashley was speechless. Good advice falls on deaf ears of the damned. Some people wouldn’t die today but would someday. And ever since learning this incident involved the Secret Alliance assassinating a tycoon, she’d lost all interest.
Meow, earning 6 pounds a week—why risk my life protecting a rich fool with a multi-million-pound yacht against a whole Secret Alliance of supernaturals? Why not grab a stool and wait to collect his corpse?
