After Ashley became a search officer, her days grew leisurely. For several consecutive days, she had no assignments, almost matching the pace of a retired veteran cadre.
Amber, on the other hand, was quite busy. She handled several incidents with the Seventh Group, including hazardous material leaks, hostage kidnappings, bank robberies, and collapsed building rescues. Each time she returned, she vividly described the events to Ashley.
Ashley ate and stayed at Amber’s house every day, and her uncle and aunt already treated her like a second daughter.
That morning, as Ashley scooped yogurt from her teacup with a spoon, the mailman rang the doorbell and delivered a Little Blue Strip. Amber’s mom fetched it from the entryway and handed it to her.
Ashley unfolded it, then crumpled it into a ball in her palm, lost in thought.
Finally, after half a month of radio silence, the family had contacted her again.
This time, there was no sneaking around—they openly arranged to meet at a street corner café. Letisia was far away in Rift City, and her oversight of the Jenkins Family case had weakened, emboldening these guys.
Ramhorn Street tapered westward into a narrow alley that led to the ring road.
At sunset, the dim yellow sunlight slanted into the alley, forming a clear dividing line, while the door of the Red Oak Cafe hid in the faint shadows, utterly unremarkable.
Of course, if it were some lively spot, it wouldn’t serve as a rendezvous point.
Ashley sat by the window, sipping her latte slowly. Soon, a young man walked in from outside.
His appearance bore some resemblance to Moracha— the same brown hair, thick and coarse, but he looked younger, and his right hand lacked a tattoo.
“Are you from the Hazlit Family? Moracha’s brother?” Ashley asked, narrowing her eyes.
The young man slid into the booth at an angle, one arm draped over the chair back and the other propping his knee, as if ready to bolt at any moment.
“I am…” Moracha’s face showed lingering fear. “Lucky I uploaded my consciousness in advance… The Fountain City Lord is a terrifying figure.”
“You nearly got me killed,” Ashley said coldly. “And what was that unauthorized ‘initiation ceremony’ about?”
“Sorry… I didn’t expect that guy’s reaction to be so fast. It was less than three minutes from start to finish.”
“Watch it next life.”
Ashley set down her coffee cup. At the same time, Mingyue silently appeared behind Moracha, her hand slicing down like a blade and exploding his head!
The café owner slumped behind the bar in terror, mouth agape in a daze.
Yet Moracha didn’t collapse. He remained seated, his skull’s smooth cut surface revealing jelly-like brain matter laced with varying shades of blue patterns. Peering deeper into his transparent chest, neural fibers sprawled like crystalline roots within the ribcage container.
He kept talking. “Sorry, it’s mandatory. Every core family member must undergo the Myriad Stars baptism, whether they consent or not. After the baptism, you’re a proxy. You can resent me, the ‘guide,’ at most. I don’t mind if you kill me— I can respawn indefinitely. The only difference is the timeline version of my consciousness upload.”
“Hmm… fine. Since this is the Heavenly Father’s and Myriad Stars’ chosen ritual, I’ll consider the prior events a trial.” Ashley shifted her attitude immediately. After all, she still had undercover work to do.
Moreover, Moracha had a ‘save file’ in the Star Chain. Killing his body was pointless; he’d just respawn.
She needed higher-level access to delete his save file and kill him for good.
Ethically speaking, this guy was already dead—the one before her was just a copy.
“I’m glad you’re reasonable. Let’s confirm your access first.” As Moracha spoke, he bent down, picked up half his brain, and slotted it back in.
“Level 6,” Ashley said, flipping open her compact mirror to show him. “I used the one-time Dinosaur Slayer after clashing with some crows. The icon’s grayed out now. Any way to replenish uses?”
“I’m not sure. I just know higher access allows unlimited use.”
Will there be any impact if it’s used up?
“No impact… Also, though my access is one level higher, I can’t give you orders. The rule is a three-level gap or more for direct commands— so Level 9 can order you.” Moracha explained.
“Who are the Level 9s?” Ashley asked directly.
“I know your family’s Old Ancestor is the highest at Level 10, mine is Level 9. Others? Probably three or four, but I’m not sure.” Moracha didn’t hide it.
The Old Ancestor was typically great-grandparents—unlikely to be alive beyond that.
The Jenkins Family had only one: Heloise Jenkins.
She was extremely mysterious; Ashley had never met her but often heard elders mention her.
Highest Level 10… Ashley mused. She’d need Level 8 to avoid taking orders.
“Table bro at Level 7— you sought me out on orders from above? Or just catching up?” Ashley slipped into her role.
“I’ve got business in the western ‘Land of Eternal Day’ region. I thought you weren’t strong enough, but you’re terrifyingly powerful.” Moracha shrugged, causing half his skull to slip; he reached up and adjusted it.
“Details?” Ashley asked.
“Not here. You free?”
“Of course. As a search officer now, I don’t need to clock in daily.”
“Fast promotion.”
“Hit the ceiling, though. Not direct lineage.”
Ashley tossed her hair, flashed a wicked smile, and said:
“But I’ll use my beauty to control the Tribunal’s core members, getting intel from them… Amber’s already under my skirt. Once I promote her to the top, I’ll steal internal secrets nonstop. Heh heh heh…”
“I have a feeling you’ll be a huge asset to us!” Moracha said happily.
“It’s my duty. May the Heavenly Father’s glory envelop the world, may Myriad Stars be the pillar of thought.” Ashley chanted mysteriously.
Moracha muttered along with pious fervor.
Ashley glanced at him, thinking: Sure enough, staring at the stars too long past the ‘wisdom warning threshold’ drives you mad—either into religion or science.
The ‘Land of Eternal Day’ Moracha mentioned lay west from Fountain City. Past a certain boundary, the sun never dipped below the horizon—hence the name.
Before leaving the café, Ashley calmed the owner, flashed her search officer badge, and slipped him a pound tip.
She settled the lolis, mounted a swift pony, rode out of the city, headed west to the nearest Mashan Outpost, and met Moracha plus two others.
She knew both: Uncle Vitik from the elder generation, and distant cousin Eunice.
Ashley knew Eunice best—a real bully.
Though the Jenkins Family had no good kids, Eunice was the worst.
Ashley had seen her more than once leading a gang to pour spiders into a bullied kid’s ears, or slap them while forcing them to smoke a cigarette rolled from newspaper and chili peppers, and worse.
But she’d never clashed with Ashley. Ashley wasn’t easy to mess with, and with the even fiercer Xixi around, they only played for keeps. Among the kids at the swamp manor, it was ingrained: Mess with them, and you’d get killed.
