“Away from people like me?”
Betty slowly withdrew her smile, her face frosting over, her gaze blanking out for an instant.
The female judge at the juvenile court who had given her the maximum sentence had looked down at her with the same innate contempt, calling her “people like you” over and over, her disgust plain as day.
Flora had unwittingly rubbed salt in her wound.
Betty took a step forward, closing in on the blonde loli who had stood up in clear confrontation, and fixed her with an aggressive stare.
Flora was terrified, her little legs shaking, but she wanted to protect the one remaining thing she had left after losing everything—her everything, her one and only, her Ashley.
Her eyes welled up as she glared back, somehow exuding a tragic, do-or-die atmosphere.
Teenage girl versus loli—it was a crushing mismatch in presence, height, and maturity.
Though Betty was only fourteen and her waistline curves weren’t exaggerated yet, she was far beyond loli territory. Plus, she’d done her eye makeup today, her eye tails refined and plump, seductive and alluring like a Barbie doll’s eyes. In terms of looks, she was already invincible.
Though the two were locked in a fierce standoff, Ashley just found them noisy and boredly looked away.
“Little teacher, you’re a criminal now too. What right do you have to say ‘people like you’? Besides, I’m not the one who killed anyone.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose! You did it on purpose!”
“Keep making that sour face, and I won’t go easy on you!”
The two were arguing when suddenly, a boy with a nose ring rushed in from outside and whispered something to Betty.
“Really?”
Betty’s face shifted through expressions of thought before she immediately followed him out.
Seeing no fight break out, the juvenile delinquents in the cafeteria let out a chorus of disappointed boos.
Flora sat back down still worked up, her chest heaving as she turned to Ashley. “Don’t hang out with her. She’s a bad woman!”
A bad orange, Ashley added inwardly.
–
Betty arrived at a secluded warehouse, where the other three of the Four Heavenly Kings were already waiting.
It turned out that Nelson of the Garden Eagles, who controlled the small plaza garden and fitness equipment area, had discovered a sinkhole.
Nelson was a big kid and immediately recognized the value of this “natural” depression.
The shallow soil layers in the Source Region had been turned over multiple times; any valuable Salvaged Items buried underground had long been dug up clean.
Salvaged Items were non-renewable resources. To get more, one had to dive deeper, excavating the lower layers.
But digging in the urban area was prohibited. The soil was already prone to subsidence; more random digging could cause large-scale settling.
That meant the outskirts had been stripped bare, while the urban district was a vast expanse of untapped virgin land!
Nelson had grand plans: the ground had collapsed naturally, so going in to pick up one or two Ancient Relics would be legal and aboveboard. Even if he had to turn them in, it wouldn’t be considered a crime.
So, instead of reporting it, he covered the hole with wooden boards and camouflaged it with sod.
Cave exploration was a massive project with too much noise; he knew he couldn’t hog it all, so he contacted the other leaders, setting aside grudges for joint development.
A union of the Four Heavenly Kings would give unprecedented control over the juvenile delinquents. There was still a risk of leaks, but it was the best option.
That very night, they organized an expedition.
“Eagle King, let’s dig a shortcut to the outside, transport our haul that way—going through the main gate is too risky and obvious. Plus, we can come and go from the community freely without applying for leave every time,” the nose-ring delinquent said excitedly. He was the Eagle Gang’s second-in-command.
“Good idea, but we have to strictly limit the number of people going out,” Nelson said gravely. “If too many go missing, it’ll raise suspicions for sure.”
This sinkhole was, of course, the one Ashley had opened.
She had seen the delinquents secretly collecting kerosene to make miner’s lamps, squeezing fluorescent pen ink for trail markers, tearing bedsheets into long ropes, hiding in rooms to draw maps… She saw it all but pretended not to notice, walking past with her head down.
After all, her life goal was to be a good person. Of course she wouldn’t join this shameful crime that combined tomb robbing, jailbreaking, and endangering public safety.
Fearing complications, the Four Heavenly Kings hadn’t invited her, which actually made it easier for her to stay clear.
–
The gold scraps mangled by the parrot sold. The shop recycling gold didn’t suspect the source; it was unrecognizable now.
They fetched a total of 18 pounds, 8 shillings, and 11 pence.
Ashley took 15 pounds to pay off her debt, proving her repayment ability—after all, the Great Raven was still in Veronica’s repair shop.
Though it was just a fraction, the other party was delighted by her emphasis on credit.
So, what to do with the remaining 3 pounds?
Ashley wanted to buy a small handgun, ideally a compact concealed-carry model no longer than 15 centimeters.
Strapped to her thigh, secured tight with a garter. From today on, she’d be a killer loli.
But recoil was an issue; her slender wrists might not handle it.
So, a shotgun instead! Grip with both hands, butt against her abdomen, absorb the kick with her whole body.
Sure, firing would feel like a punch to the gut,
but the enemy would eat a full blast!
Hmm… no, that’s no good.
Ashley shook her head. The shotgun was too big; a test for the garter. If it fell out from under her skirt in public while guiding tours at the museum, it’d be another masterpiece from the Jenkins Family.
–
Late at night, the aluminum alloy guard frame outside the first-floor dorm window was pushed open by several hands.
The screws here had been removed, the fixings turned into hinges—an inconspicuous exit.
Several delinquents then climbed out the window.
Dressed in black, ropes coiled at their waists, carrying Black Lanterns.
A Black Lantern was an oil lamp with a blackened shade to block light, adjusted by sliding a curved panel.
Thieves who picked locks loved it; unlike regular lamps, it didn’t bloom into a glaring halo in the dark.
Nelson lifted the sod camouflage and jumped in first.
He landed in soft soil, then had to crouch to pass the initial tunnel section.
After two or three meters, he straightened up into a natural underground karst cave.
Karst terrain featured fissures, ancient caves, and karst springs everywhere underground.
Nelson thumbed the light open to max, a fan of brightness illuminating the entire cave—deep, silent, undulating stalactites gleaming with delicate, crystalline sheen.
He turned to look behind him; everyone was there.
The six-man team consisted of key figures from each gang. Three of the Four Heavenly Kings had come: besides the Garden Eagles and Warehouse Queen, there was Spencer, the Ditch Commander who held the artificial pond and controlled the fountain.
His flagship was a small boat usually used to clear pond trash, but it was undoubtedly the largest vessel in the community.
“Is that the thing?”
Betty started, her gaze falling on the spherical instrument in Nelson’s hand. Inside the transparent glass shell, the precision resonant gyroscope slowly rose and fell, the needle swinging back and forth.
“That’s right. This is the Miles Gyroscope that points to the supernatural. My uncle’s a boat captain; I borrowed it from him. Searching for Ancient Relics and supernatural life underground? A gyroscope is essential.”
Unlike the surface, underground travel was brutally tough. Breaking through a wall guzzled manpower and resources; navigating a twisting, narrow waterway risked disaster. So confirming direction was paramount—no wasting limited manpower and supplies.
Once the six entered the next cavern, the Blue-Haired Loli walked in and quietly stood in the darkness.
She’d figured opening a hole would make them escape, letting her slip in and out amid the chaos. But they wanted to harvest the rice!
So stupid!
Ashley knew full well that harvesting was suicide. Any legit channel left records or witnesses. Hoard it without selling, and you’d get caught red-handed. Smuggling loot was an extra charge.
With this ragtag group’s loose organization, no need for the Tribunal—the city police would handle them.
So, the best strategy was Socratic crime—go for the biggest wheat stalk in the field.
Ashley’s plan: pick the single most valuable Salvaged Item from the find and take it. No sale, no transaction trail. If caught, claim it was from the family stash.
But multiples? No explaining that away.
