Facing Chloe’s threats, Ashley remained completely unperturbed, her expression as calm as a cold spring. After a brief moment of thought, she said:
“Think you can scare me? My joining the Tribunal isn’t some top-secret intelligence. Even if you don’t report it, other newspapers will make a huge fuss about it.”
Chloe was momentarily at a loss for words. After thinking it over, she realized it was true—plenty of people at the Tribunal’s training base knew about it.
Those big newspapers would generously pay 20 pounds for a news tip like that. No one could resist the temptation of that money.
“Chloe,” Ashley said after some consideration, casting a meaningful glance at the reporter loli, “I know you always want to land a big scoop, but you’re too young, too naive. Sometimes, even getting your hands on clothes… How about partnering with me instead? You need manpower, and I need tools.”
“Hey, what kind of joke is that? Partner with you? Don’t you get your own situation? Heh heh heh, better count how many more days you can strut around before you turn into a pariah!”
Chloe gloated maliciously before continuing:
“I’m the first to get this intel. I’m gonna beat every other paper to the punch and expose your Tribunal enrollment! Gonna rake in a massive wave of traffic!”
In response to her hysteria, Ashley smiled unhurriedly and said:
“Ever heard of this? When a musk deer is chased by a hunter, it twists around and chews off the scent gland at its navel, leaving the hunter who wants the musk empty-handed. Heh heh, I’m the same. I’ll head straight to the big papers right now and claim my own news tip reward. Can your family’s publicity power compete with theirs? Still dreaming of traffic? Heh heh, you won’t even get the leftovers. The only thing I can do is make sure you get nothing!”
“You!” Chloe’s face turned green with rage.
“But partnering with me is different,” Ashley spread her hands, her tone full of temptation. “Why the frenzied tomb raiding? What are they hiding about the disappearances? The hero who caught the culprit turns out to be a parrot. The serial killings started with arson—is it the corruption of human nature or the degradation of morality? Step into the inner world of one-armed boy Donahue Dick. Fountain News brings you the exclusive report.”
Chloe’s heart itched unbearably. She gulped and wrestled internally for a moment before gritting her teeth and asking, “What exactly do you want?”
Ashley crossed her fingers over her chest, her eyes gleaming with contemplation.
“I want it published as soon as possible—a series of reports. Before the bad news about the Jenkins Family hits, promote me as a good person, a morally upright one, a loyal and brave Tribunal trainee agent, a member of a criminal family who emerged unsullied from the mud.”
Chloe instantly understood her intent and exclaimed in surprise, “You—you still want to struggle?”
“What’s wrong with being a good person?” Ashley murmured, her gaze turning melancholic.
Though young, Chloe had long learned to weigh pros and cons. She rested her cheek on her hand and pondered for a bit before agreeing:
“Fine. You give me the traffic, and I’ll whitewash you.”
Chloe wasn’t the type of little demon girl who mocked everything just to vent; she was one with dreams.
No time to waste. Right there in the dorm, Chloe asked questions, Ashley dictated, and Flora took notes. The three lolis collaborated on writing the news.
It was a series of reports, each standalone yet focused, continuing from the previous one—a true test of logical skill.
“Who knew you had a way with words? Still, you’re miles behind me. Interested in being a columnist? Two articles a week, 2 pounds each.” Chloe stared at the ink still drying on the paper.
“Begging off a street urchin?” Ashley shot back irritably.
“Hmph, that’s all you’re worth.” Chloe quickly retorted to cover up the newspaper’s cash-strapped reality.
Once the ink on the draft paper had dried, Chloe carefully folded each sheet and tucked them into her bag. She said:
“I’ll show these proofs to Mom for review and polishing tonight. They can go on the printing press then—replacing that front-page story about ‘unscrupulous merchants passing chicken intestines as macaroni.'”
After the reporter loli left, Ashley and Flora tidied up the room.
Once done, Ashley sat at the desk, thought for a moment, picked up a quill pen, dipped it in ink, and poured her worries onto the page.
She folded it, slipped it into a pocket-sized envelope, and handed it to Sasha.
“Trouble you to fly to Rift City and deliver this to Xixi.”
Ashley pulled out a map and pointed to Rift City’s location.
The parrot spat out a compass bead, pinned it with its claw, tilted its head, and peered at it with one eye to check the direction, looking highly professional.
“Should the hamster stay behind?”
“What? Emergency rations? No way, I’ll give you some concentrated nutrient crystals.”
And so the hamster stayed, housed in a cardboard box.
Flora quite liked this golden hamster and named her Dolly. She scavenged some dead wood to landscape the box and cut up an old shirt to keep her warm.
Under Ashley’s guidance, she learned what ‘bedding’ was and swept up a bunch of sawdust from the lumber mill. She turned the cut-up cloth into a little nest.
Though she had already written to her little cousin, Ashley remained deeply worried.
Xixi bore the Sacharia name and could shake it off clean, but she was a Jenkins—shit-stained pants were hard to ditch.
Ashley knew deep down that this level of whitewashing was far from enough. After careful thought, what she needed was a marketable story—like a public act of bravery, saving people’s lives and property, getting badly injured herself, then appearing at city hall with her head bandaged to be received by the city lord, making headlines across major papers as the city’s hero…
Too bad such opportunities only existed in dreams.
Fountain City was peaceful and serene, guarded by three Trial Judges, a host of elite agents, and the Tribunal Undead Squad. Plus, the Fountain City Lord and a visiting top-100 airship captain were still in town. Powerhouses abounded—it was arguably the safest place in the world.
—
The next day, Ashley headed out early, entering Fifth Avenue from Montsour Street and arriving at a small building.
The facade was rundown, with peeling walls. The large Fountain News sign, assembled from lamp tubes, had half its letters unlit.
The stairwell was unlit, dim and gloomy, the air thick with the scent of fresh ink.
Ashley climbed the stairs. The floor and walls were painted cheap green, and she vaguely made out two rows of rooms.
The first room housed a humming printing press; the typesetters’ work clothes were stained with ink.
The second was the office, a chaotic mess of clothes racks, bundled newspapers, tripods with cameras, and more.
One desk held seven or eight cups of coffee, steam rising lazily. Several young reporters clustered around it, half-turning toward one spot.
Those in cheap formalwear had on-site interviews; those in casual vests were field reporters; those in gray coats and wool pants had no assignments. They gathered for a brief morning meeting before starting work.
Chloe stood at the center of attention, exuding a leader’s aura. Though dressed cheaply, her all-black outfit gave a high-end vibe. She leaned on a small cane, dramatically holding forth, punctuating her words by thumping it on the ground.
Though just a little loli, she was seasoned in the business, highly capable, and her reporters respected her. With a wave of her hand, the meeting ended. Reporters rose—some grabbing hats to head out, others sitting at desks to open spectacle cases.
“Ashley!”
Chloe strode to the door, dark circles under her eyes but steps brisk and spirits high.
“How’s the progress?” Ashley asked.
“We pulled an all-nighter yesterday to finish. Mom says the topic’s gold—super engaging. Listen, if we had 40 pounds to hire a hundred newsboys for a morning, it’d be even better.”
“You little schemer, making me pay to sell your papers?”
