Volume 3, Chapter 40 – Acting in Proxy (Two-in-One)

As she flew, Bai Xiang saw chaos everywhere.

On one highway, traffic had been forcibly blocked off so one particular convoy could go first, and people were arguing over it.

Elsewhere, a man wanted his wife and children to be allowed on a vehicle; when they were refused, his frustration turned into a shouting match, and that shouting match escalated into a full-blown brawl.

And even those counted as mild cases. The worst were the punks with brutish faces, shaved heads, and those multicolored dyed Mohawks—these guys truly had no taboos.

They pried open gold shops and looted what they could. They hijacked cars and set up roadblocks, hacking at people at the slightest disagreement.

Before leaving, they insisted on “having some fun.” Any pretty woman they passed on the street, they’d reach out and grab. Some of them carried flamethrowers and Molotov cocktails, burning wherever they went as if enjoying some apocalypse carnival.

Looking down from high above, entire blocks were already in ruins thanks to their rampage. A large number of residents, robbed or left without working vehicles, had no choice but to go back home—and in truth, most returned home purely to avoid running into these lunatics.

A gang like this could be indulged… this was worse than a cyberpunk slum.

Bai Xiang could only shake her head.

Great Yu might be reaping the benefits of a tech explosion on the surface—towering buildings, running water, power, communications all complete within the circuit-cities—but at its core it was still feudal, with bones formed from feudal dregs.

She was only sighing; she wasn’t surprised. You could see this from countless past examples.

Take the demon riot at No. 1 High. The parents who’d gathered to demand an explanation were beaten with weapons by the Inspectorate. Even someone like Zhang Daoming—a “good person”—had probably thought they’d had it coming.

Or take Lian Feng’s background. He wasn’t originally a resident of a circuit-city; he’d drifted up from the village–town system below it. That ascent alone said a lot.

The Thirty-Six Circuits of the Nine Provinces of Great Yu—how many people did each circuit-city actually hold?

Chilong Circuit’s population didn’t exceed two million; a large circuit-city like Yujing Circuit wouldn’t surpass ten million.

Even if you generously averaged it to five million per circuit-city and multiplied that by thirty-six, the total was still under two hundred million. In a modern, high-tech world, that was unbelievably low.

And of course Great Yu couldn’t only have two hundred million people. The real number at least doubled that.

The reason the other two hundred million were invisible—as if they’d vanished from information networks—was that they were the scenery Lian Feng had seen while clawing his way up toward a circuit-city.

Mountain villages clinging together just to survive demon beast attacks.

Mid-sized and small towns slowly formed as large villages gathered and connected.

Those villagers and townsfolk were people too. On one hand, they had to avoid demon beasts and Demon Pools in the wilds; on the other, they had to dodge the bullying and ambushes of gangs and roaming bandits. They wrung their brains and spent all their strength trying to survive in the cracks, sharpening their heads to squeeze into a circuit-city.

Just around Qizhou alone there were hundreds of scattered villages. Every year, a great many people and laborers were drawn into circuit-cities. Some put down roots there, married, and had kids. Others let themselves rot and became fertilizer.

Their stories played out in the lower layers every single day. But in the process of information dissemination, they simply didn’t exist—as if, beyond the Thirty-Six Circuit-Cities, the entire Great Yu realm was empty and only wilderness remained.

It wasn’t that “no one lived there.” It was that those scattered outside “didn’t count as people.”

By now Bai Xiang could barely be counted as someone in a high position, and combined with the “dragon-slaying arts” she’d studied in her previous life, her shifted vantage point let her see clearly the coldness and rot in Great Yu’s bones. She realized that “Thirty-Six Circuit-Cities” had a truer name: “Thirty-Six Base Cities,” “Thirty-Six Fortress Defense Cities.”

In Great Yu’s worst-case defensive contingency, it was surely written like this: if the northern frontier line finally collapses and the entire realm cannot escape demon calamity, then the borders will be sealed tight, and the circuit-cities converted into fortress–citadels to resist the Aberrations.

Modern technology, feudal institutions, and an apocalyptic policy of abandoning the majority and using them as fuel for the fortress-cities—that was why Bai Xiang always felt a sense of dissonance when she looked at Great Yu.

Enough.

Her imagination was a bit too vivid. It was almost like she could hear the screams and sobbing from below. With a soft sigh, Bai Xiang slowed down, dropping straight down toward the street.

Right here, a pack of “biker punks” with ear studs and nose rings were in the middle of arson and vandalism.

The one in the Mohawk had blocked the road with several cars, sitting arrogantly on a hood with a cigarette dangling from his lips, taking long drags as he savored the cries of the weak.

“You can’t do this!”

A bespectacled man, who looked like a teacher, pushed past those blocking him and glared at the Mohawk, shouting, “Didn’t you hear the broadcast? Demon calamity! A large-scale demon calamity is coming any minute! How can you block the road…!?”

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The Mohawk burst into loud laughter, and the gun-toting punks around him laughed hysterically with him.

The man didn’t understand what was so funny. He looked at them in confusion. Didn’t they plan to run?

“Kid, you really let them play you,” the Mohawk chuckled, hopping off the car and clapping the man on the shoulder, his expression full of disdain.

“‘Large-scale demon calamity’… you know who we answer to, don’t you? You think your intel’s better than ours?”

The Mohawk couldn’t be bothered to take it seriously.

He was one of Lian Di’s trusted lieutenants and knew a fair bit about Chilong’s secrets—including that “a very troublesome woman is coming here soon” and “she might fight Lian Di’s backers for power.”

Right now, the talk of a large-scale demon calamity was just something being broadcast over the radio. The Roads Directorate hadn’t said a word.

For the average person, the Roads Directorate staying silent at a time like this was equivalent to endorsing the radio, plenty to make them believe. But for the Mohawk, that wasn’t enough.

Someone was clearly trying to throw the circuit-city into chaos.

If a demon calamity didn’t come, then what?

Once they traced it back, wouldn’t the boss’s backers be the ones to fall?

The Mohawk thought this was an incredibly childish frame-up. He, at least, wasn’t buying it, and all the brothers he discussed it with agreed.

Evacuate? Evacuate my ass.

He was staying to have fun.

He loved this atmosphere. All the old rules were collapsing in the “evacuation,” and things he’d only dared daydream about before, he could now do without fear of consequences.

What was there to be afraid of? The Inspectorate was short-staffed anyway.

They could do whatever they wanted, smash whatever they wanted. Once things calmed down, they’d just pin the blame on the local gangs and frame “that woman” instead.

Wouldn’t everyone end up thanking her for giving them the chance to go wild?

Ha!

Feeling pleased, the Mohawk patted the man’s shoulder again and suddenly asked, “Thirsty, kid?”

The man froze, not answering, but his tongue reflexively flicked out to lick his lips.

Thirsty?

Who wouldn’t be?

He’d been parched for ages on the way over; he didn’t dare touch their reserve water. That was for his wife and child.

The Mohawk grinned even wider, unhooked a military canteen, and waved it in front of him. “Wanna drink?”

The man eyed him, frowned, and shook his head warily, trying to ease backward.

Too late…

The Mohawk snatched him by the collar. “Then I’ll make sure you drink your fill!” he snarled, popping the cap and dousing the man from head to toe. Then he flicked his cigarette butt at him.

Whoomph!

The glowing tip fell, and the instant it touched, flames roared up.

“Ah! Ahhh…!”

The man turned into a fireball in an instant, flailing wildly in a desperate attempt to put the fire out.

“Hahahahaha!”

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The Mohawk howled with laughter along with the others. “What do you think, boys? Check it out—‘the dancing fire man’!”

Whoosh—

A gale spun up out of nowhere. It was like an invisible, formless current of air wrapped around the burning man, and with a gentle twist, the flames went out. Even the layer of accelerant was stripped away.

“Who’s there?”

The Mohawk, for all his brutality, had some experience. He immediately guessed some “expert” had intervened and brought his assault rifle up, barking, “We’re—”

Whoosh—

Before he could finish, that invisible current washed over him as well. With the lightest of twists, his body and his gear were shredded to pulp, exploding into a spray of blood and meat.

“Ah!”

The nearby punks screamed. Just as they were raising their guns to fight back, the air current scattered into multiple streams—one became two, two became four, then eight… until their number matched that of the punks. Each stream wrapped around a man. In the next instant, dozens more red bursts of gore popped in the air.

The change was so fast that just as the bystanders were about to cry out against the brutality they’d just seen, the Mohawk and his crew were already dead to the last.

Pop.

Bai Xiang appeared abruptly atop a car, glanced at the man with burns all over his body, flicked a pill into his mouth, then sent a thread of pill qi to his brow, helping him dissolve and absorb the medicine.

Burns were no joke.

What she’d given him wasn’t an immortal pill, just a leftover tonic.

The technique wasn’t really spirit-pointing either—just a way to boost the medicine’s activity, accelerating the regeneration and metabolism of his skin.

Once she was done, she didn’t bother speaking to anyone. She used a sweep of her qi-force to flip the roadblocking cars aside, and her figure blurred, vanishing.

“Daddy… Daddy!”

A little girl squeezed out of the crowd at last, throwing herself over the unconscious man and wailing.

“Your daddy’ll probably be fine!” someone shouted. “A fairy just came down and healed him!”

“What damn fairy!” someone else retorted. “I saw her face clear as day—that was our pride of Chilong, Master Bai Xiang!”

“Was it really Master Bai Xiang?”

“Of course she knows Chilong’s in trouble and came just to save us!”

Bai Xiang paid them no heed.

As she moved, she watched. She saw far too many sins committed by the Jingyi Gang. Her initial plan to “execute the ringleader first” was tossed aside. She decided to kill all these villains before talking.

It just so happened that when she’d taken care of the Marrow-Washing Pill problem, a fair few “asymptomatic carriers” had been caught in the fallout. Many residents of Chilong Circuit had listened to rumors and held a grudge against her.

Now, by shredding this crowd, she was balancing the cause and effect she’d sown before.

Bai Xiang wasn’t about to feel guilty over what she’d done; this time, she was acting purely for the sake of a clear state of mind.

So she swept through like a raging storm. Wherever she passed, heads flew and flesh sprayed. Often she killed them all before anyone even saw her face, leaving the people she’d saved utterly baffled.

But as it kept happening, it was inevitable that some would catch sight of her.

Crowds flowed and churned, buzzing with rumors.

And a certain influence slowly, subtly diffused outward.

“Huff… huff…!”

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In the northern district, a long-haired man with silver-streaked black hair and a “legal adviser” vibe pulled up in front of a tall building, jumped out in a panic, and rushed inside.

Bai Xiang was currently chasing northward, following the key detail she’d learned by soul-searching—that after being expelled from the residence by Zhang Xianzhi, Lian Di had headed north in a car, apparently to return to his base and retrieve something.

The north district was the Jingyi Gang’s base of operations, effectively inheriting all the territory the Shiyou Gang had left behind. That was because they’d originally come from the north.

The circuit-city to the north had also been hit by the Southern King’s rebellion. Before that, the Jingyi Gang had already unified many local gangs. With the Southern King’s fall, they’d eliminated their greatest rival, the Red Crane Gang, in one stroke, and their numbers had swelled past three thousand.

Many people—Zhang Xianzhi included—thought the Jingyi Gang had come here because Lu Neizhi had dispatched government troops for disaster relief, leaving them few opportunities in the north, and Zhang Xianzhi had invited them over with big promises.

Not just Zhang Xianzhi; that’s what every leader in the Jingyi Gang thought.

What future was there if you stayed put in a place whose prospects were already fixed?

The smart move was to come to Chilong Circuit first, then use Chilong as a stepping stone to flow into Zhen’nan.

They’d done the math. The new province had only just been established; it was in dire need of manpower. With three thousand of them standing in a row, who wouldn’t be tempted? Who wouldn’t want to rope them in?

They could start at the bottom and work their way up, bribing and buying officials when the chance came. If a handful of those officials rose high in the future, wouldn’t the Jingyi Gang’s rise be guaranteed?

By then, their people would be spread along both banks of the Jing River. Their influence would span four or five circuit-cities. They could even flip their image, open companies, launder themselves, and step into high society.

It was a lovely fantasy—but only one person, the Jingyi Gang’s boss Lian Di, knew he had another task.

He had a different employer—from the Sami Federation.

The matter was far too serious. Lian Di hadn’t dared bring anyone along; he didn’t trust a single confidant.

Luckily, maybe because of the radio broadcasts, the north district was empty. Most people had flocked to the central city and southern district.

The building he entered now, “Baike Tower,” was deserted as well. Not a soul in sight—no security, no receptionists, everyone had run.

The tower was one of the Jingyi Gang’s assets.

It had thirty-six floors. The top floor office was Lian Di’s. He loved to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows there, looking down on the streets below like a lion surveying his kingdom.

But the reason he’d chosen it at a glance wasn’t just that it looked grand. It was because it had originally been property of “Baike Corporation” and housed the most advanced biological lab in the north district. That fact was itself a secret.

And yes—that too had come from his employer.

Baike Corporation was undeniably foreign-funded. Tracing its background was extremely complicated. Its parent company was the “Laidi Life Sciences Group,” backed by national capital from the Sami Federation, the Ruffen Federation, and others, along with investments from many Great Yu nobles—even princes. It was a behemoth spanning multiple continents and nations.

This foreign company kept a low profile, the opposite of Qingyun Pharmaceuticals. Since they didn’t stir up trouble, no one felt the need to hassle them. During Xu Zhe’s tenure in Chilong, he’d publicly commended them multiple times.

“Damn that Zhang Xianzhi… trying to use me to lure that bitch away!”

Lian Di rushed into the elevator lobby, jabbing the button repeatedly as he cursed to himself.

“Does he think I can’t see what he’s doing?

“Pedantic scholar—thinks that with a few achievements under his belt he can control people’s hearts. Has he forgotten where your granddaddy crawled up from? He dares calculate me… he’s not worthy!”

He wasn’t stupid. He knew he absolutely couldn’t flee south right now.

Running south was asking to die.

If he didn’t get that thing, it didn’t matter where he ran—he was dead.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened. Lian Di dove in, pulled down the panel, and revealed a rectangular screen.

He pressed his right hand to the screen. It lit up and began scanning his palm print.

Then he pressed his eye to the small recess above the screen, letting it scan his iris. A synthetic female voice sounded in the elevator: [Third-level agent “Lian Di,” identity confirmed.]

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“Forget confirmation, hurry it up!” Lian Di snapped, kicking the wall. “Get me down there now!”

[Elevator descending,] the gentle female voice replied. [Please have third-level agent “Lian Di” confirm.]

“Confirmed!!”

[Elevator descending.]

The syrupy voice repeated the same in Federal Common, but Lian Di was in no mood to respond.

The doors opened at last and he bolted out into a brightly lit corridor, all silver and white, with a strongly sci-fi feel.

If Bai Xiang had been here, she would have recognized it instantly—the underground lab under Prince Yao Qingyuan’s manor had used the same style.

Shhh—

A door slid open. Lian Di rushed into a lab, found a keyboard, and started typing, glancing up now and then at the “pillar” in the center.

The pillar was wrapped in a silver-white casing, venting white vapor on all sides. One look and you could tell it was storing something at ultra-low temperatures.

[Third-level agent “Lian Di” detected extracting “B2” containment object.]

The synthetic female voice sounded again.

[Sending emergency call request to headquarters.]

Lian Di glared at the computer screen, where a video window had popped up.

The situation was critical; the connection on the other end came quickly. In moments, the screen showed a blonde woman in her twenties in a blue suit.

“We have received word that you are attempting to extract the ‘B2’ containment object, third-level agent,” she said coldly. “You are aware this violates regulations. You have ten seconds to explain.”

[Neurotoxin countdown,] the electronic voice chimed serenely.

[9… 8… 7…]

“This place is finished!” Lian Di yelled, clawing at his hair. “This isn’t what we agreed on at all! That woman’s gone mad! I have to take it and get out of here!”

“One moment.” The blonde woman frowned slightly and the screen went black.

The countdown did not stop.

[3… 2… 1… 0.]

[Release sequence aborted.]

The screen lit up again. The blonde nodded at Lian Di. “Confirmed. That site requires emergency evacuation.”

He was still shaking from the countdown. “There’s no way out in any other direction. You need to send a plane to pick me up!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Your coordinates.”

“Can’t you read the signal?”

She didn’t answer. Head lowered, she seemed to be operating something. A few seconds later she raised her head and informed him, “The board has decided. We will dispatch an ‘Orbital Guardian’ to assist you.”

“What’s that, a plane?”

“You don’t need to know.” Her lips curled in a contemptuous smile.

“Be on the roof in thirty minutes.

“There should be a helipad.”