After Althea came home, I explained the situation. Needless to say, she wasn’t the happiest, but at this part of our lives, living in constant danger was depressingly routine.


    We created an action plan for System Articles in case they turned their ire onto us, which was likely considering their previous targets. Most of the discussion revolved around Thea, because she still had her obligations at school and couldn’t skip her last few weeks—unlike me, who’d been skipping work for obvious reasons. Plus, I was more concerned about her safety than mine.


    The plan was simple. We weren’t trying to destroy System Articles. My investigation had that covered. Instead, we were defending ourselves from any ambushes. Mainly, defending Thea. I could take care of myself although everyone else disagreed. Didn’t matter, because at this very second, my sister had some of the worst bodyguards this city had to offer.


    “...That should be everything,” I said, phone pressed against my ear.


    “Alex…” Uncle Ali sighed and sounded like he was rubbing his eyes. “I would’ve appreciated this information a few days earlier. I don’t take threats on your life or your sister’s lightly.”


    “I know, it’s my fault, but I was half-afraid that you’d…” I glanced around at my fellow pedestrians minding their own business. I whispered, “That you’d book the nearest flight and by the evening, reporters will have a segment on the Yoshita Massacre.”


    Uncle didn’t refute and instead said, “...You have a point.”


    “At least try lying to me.”


    “Regardless, your plan seems sound. I would’ve considered appealing to the badges or Glory for protection, but you can’t fully trust them unlike your friends. Even then, I have my reservations.”


    I turned right at the corner, almost crashing into someone. “You have reservations about everything.”


    “Don’t blame your uncle for being overprotective.” He flipped through what sounded like paper. “Let’s see… An exiled cultivator from the Maolin (矛林) Sect, whose master committed the Taboo of Treason. A healing guardian, coming from an exceptional family of mils and healers. And lastly, an esper with an SS-Rank [Skill].”


    I whistled, impressed. “I never told you about Kotone’s rank.”


    Uncle dropped his notes on a hard surface. “Like I said, I’m overprotective. I keep more tabs on you than you think, Alex, including your inner circle. You’ve made some impressive friends. I’m glad you made friends in the first place.”


    “Ha-ha.” I turned right at the corner again. “I like to think I’m not socially-inept. That’s besides the point. Are you actually booking a flight?”


    Uncle answered in a vague mumble, which didn’t inspire much confidence. “There’s no point, I think. By the time I land at the airport, the case will most likely be resolved. As much as I’d like to stay a few days, I can’t. I still have a few things to take care of.”


    Trying to hide the dagger of disappointment in my chest, I said, “Guessing you can’t attend Thea’s graduation, right?”


    While I tried hiding my disappointment, Uncle didn’t: “I don’t think it’s in the cards, Alex, which means you’d better take a lot of pictures and videos for me. By June—mid-June at the latest—I’ll settle my affairs and we can enjoy a much-welcome vacation. Korea, right? Thea texted me the other day.”


    Of course she did, sneaky bastard. I sighed and turned right. “Thea’s persistent, I’ll give her that. She wants to meet all her favorite K-pop idols like Jun-hyeok—” (“I thought she doesn’t care about him.”) “—look, they all sound the same to me. I’m not exactly thrilled to spend a few weeks in Korea.”


    Uncle assured, “As long as we stay in South Korea and steer clear from the Demonic Cult, we’ll be fine. I’m not completely on-board with the suggestion either, but you know me. I love spoiling my niece.”


    “Sometimes, you spoil her way too much.” I glanced at the closest traffic-mirror. There was a tiny bud of hope inside my chest—had been a tiny bud of hope—praying that today was going to be a calm and uneventful day. Of course, I was stupid because with System Articles going on, I wouldn’t know peace until next week.


    However, whoever the fuck was following me wasn’t involved with System Articles or Yoshita. They trailed a good distance behind me, wearing a light hoodie and a black face-mask. Judging from their figure, they were female, about five-eight. Problem was, there were only two female members in Yoshita and neither of them were that tall. The tallest scratched five-three.


    I didn’t know who my tail belonged to.


    “Alex?” Uncle’s voice rang inside my head. “Is something wrong—?”


    “I’m being followed. I’ll call you after I take care of it.” I hung up and pocketed my phone, trying to act natural. Conveying that I got spooked might cause the kind lady to break engagement and flee. In most cases, I’d want that; however, I would love to know her intentions.


    Which meant we had a date, destination the Slayer Capital. We were both anxious, fearful, loveless losers. Instead of playing twenty questions, we played twenty paces. Each step either encouraged us to push forward or pull back. Each move determined the amount of risk we were willing to wager. We were afraid of each other, terrified of what the other was thinking. If the stakes were too high or the vibes were off, the game was over and we’d leave the table.


    Our goals? I wanted a conversation, she wanted observation. Conflicting goals, and that was the juicy drama.


    I stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the pedestrian light to flicker grayish-white. Miss Tail hovered behind a streetlamp and pretended to be interested in the pebbles racing across the pavement. I got a better look at her clothes. Leggings, sneakers, no obvious weapons so far.


    Pedestrian light was on. I raced to the other side, ignoring the impatient drivers.


    Miss Tail chased. You could tell a lot about a person by how they walked. For this chick? Her gait was pristine. It was practiced, disciplined, always putting her in a position to engage in advanced movements. She had experience in close combat, so that likely meant she often worked in the field. What other talents did she have? Tracking, espionage? I had to consider [Skills] in the picture.


    My next move, then, should be to test those [Skills]. Fortunately, I knew the area like the back of my hand.


    I maneuvered through pedestrian traffic, always keeping an eye on Miss Tail as she flowed through the crowd like a slippery eel. There was a decent gap between us. Good.


    As soon as I turned the next corner, I ducked into the first building I saw: a clothing store. I’d shopped here a few times before. They sold decent work clothes without setting my bank account on fire.


    I browsed the polos, looking through the colors I liked and feeling the fabric. Pretty good, but I’d wait for a sale.


    From my peripheral, I spotted Miss Tail through the storefront windows. Looking a little panicked there, ma’am. Her head swiveled left, swiveled right, ahead, right again—and her shoulders relaxed and she seemed to sigh in relief. I made sure to stand where she could see me, after all.


    Guess my hunch was right: she wasn’t a tracker at all. Didn’t even have tracking [Skills]. How did I know? Trackers don’t tail their marks on foot to begin with. Any decent tracker had tech or [Skills] to monitor your location from anywhere in the city. If they had boots on the ground, then they weren’t trying to follow you—they were trying to find you.


    Fortunately for this game, Miss Tail was an amateur (not like I wasn’t one myself) who made the fatal mistake of underestimating me. Now, let’s test something else. I picked this store for a good reason. If Miss Tail looked beyond the window and walked her eyes down the main floor, she’d see something on the other side of the store.


    Another set of doors leading to the opposite side of the block.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Time to flex my acting skills. I pulled my phone out and made an exaggerated, annoyed expression. My ear was smashed against the screen protector, and I walked toward the far-doors acting like a busy exec.


    Miss Tail was on the move, one foot away from stepping inside the store. Then, she stopped and caught herself from making a “catastrophic mistake.” The store was sparsely-populated, which meant a lack of concealment. She risked detection by entering, either by me or the employees. For a wise stalker, that was too much risk to take. That left only one choice: going around the block.


    By the time she accepted this answer, I was a few steps away from the door. When I tasted stale city air again, Miss Tail was nowhere to be seen. Good, but I didn’t have much time.


    I put my phone away and trekked further down the block. A few seconds later, my next and final play of the game presented itself: a nice and narrow alleyway for me to hide in. I squeezed inside.


    Now, we wait. A nearby traffic-mirror gave me visibility over the sidewalk. Wasn’t perfect due to the angle, but it was decent enough. My eyes flicked through pedestrian after pedestrian, searching for a familiar woman in a hoodie—


    There she was. She rounded the corner and rushed past the store. Her head made full revolutions several times. “How did that asshole disappear?” she probably thought. She looked frustrated. I’d be frustrated too. My friends said I had a “distinct figure,” no different than wearing a clown costume in public. It meant people naturally noticed me in a crowd. I wonder why. Was it my muscles or the small scars on my arms?


    Didn’t matter.


    Miss Tail zoomed down the sidewalk. Along the way, her eyes wandered to a tight alleyway where a creep was loitering in. Those saucers widened—


    And I snatched Miss Tail by the wrist, pulled her into the alleyway and pinned her arm against the bricks. Our faces were inches apart, and a smart sword like her would’ve broken free already. However, there were a few fingers pressed against the middle of her chest, right where her central phenomena conduit was—or what they’d call it in the Jianghu, her middle dantian. For a Slayer, this was the equivalent of holding a hammer against their kneecaps.


    I pressed my fingers against her chest just so we were on the same page. “I know a pressure-point technique that’ll send you sniveling to your knees, ma’am. For your sake, I recommend working your tongue, not your [Skills].”


    “Alright, alright!” Miss Tail revealed her free hand. She had callouses. “Easy, easy, you caught me… I’m going to pull down my hood and mask, okay?”


    “Slowly.”


    “Slowly, you got it.” As promised, her hood fell. A golden brown ponytail flopped onto her shoulder; it was the same color as maple syrup with sunlight shining through. Next was her face-mask, and I got a better look at her eyes: little caramel treats.


    She was—


    What the fuck?


    I pressed myself closer to her.


    “Woah, hey!” She turned her head away from me as I got unbearably close. “What are you doing—?!”


    “Why are you chasing after me, Celestial Empress?”


    In Ordo, we loved our powerful women. Silverhonor was one shining example, as her charm was fantastical and mesmerizing, yet distant. Sort of like a glittering diamond behind glass. For that reason, she appeared out-of-reach, which was why her fans bordered on worship rather than infatuation.


    The latter, though? The perfect example of infatuation was Miss Tail. She was gorgeous in a way that was realistic and close to earth. Even now, when I had her unflatteringly against a wall. Her fans, however, weren''t only attracted to that pretty face. They were attracted to the muscles that were actively pushing against me. Attracted to the callouses, proof of her training and discipline in swordsmanship. Attracted to her scowl, that “I can kill you with one finger” look which brought people to their knees (one way or another).


    They were attracted to her status. She was a murim-in, an urban princess, a high-ranker, a martial beauty, a second-generation Angel, and the second-in-line heir of the Ryu Family of the Demonic Cult. Meet Celestial Empress of Angels Guild; or Leona Ryu, Cheonma’s niece.


    So much for steering clear from the Cult.


    She had a wild backstory, but it was quite simple. Her parents, Divine Blade Mistress and Heavenly Azure Swordsman (the younger brother of Cheonma), had left Korea to join Angels during its first years. One thing led to another, and Empress preferred the urban life rather than devote her murim-in blood to sect politics. That made two of us.


    My fingers pushed deeper into her middle dantian, causing her to sharply gasp. “Answer me, princess. Are you here as an Angel or a demonic agent?”


    Empress forcibly blinked, tears welling in her eyes. “Wha—? Why would I be here as the Cult—?”


    “You tell me, since you’re the one sniffing my ass—!”


    “Get your head on straight, asshole!” Empress continued to pull her face away from me. “I’m here on the behalf of Angels, not my aunt. I have zero ill intentions, I promise. If you let me go, I’ll explain everything.”


    I continued to hold her there, being a little more than skeptical.


    The princess was funny enough to crack a cute smile. “Please?”


    “Ugh.” I backed off. I was punching above my weight class, plus pinning a woman while civil society was a skip away was how you’d end up in prison.


    Empress let out the loudest sigh of relief and shook the jitters out. “Last time I checked, you had nothing to do with the Jianghu.”


    “Last time I checked, Angels didn’t know I existed.” I crossed my arms. “So what changed? What put me on your radar, huh?”


    “That’s none of your business,” she said, which was weird. The obvious answer was the System Articles crisis, with Glory Guild spreading word about a problematic corpo. All Empress had to do was say two words and I’d understand, but avoiding the question altogether… Ugh.


    I pressed, “Really? I made a big enough splash to warrant a tail.”


    Empress adjusted her hoodie, making sure no one outside the alleyway would notice a celebrity. “I was tasked with observing you. What you eat for lunch, what stores you frequent, where you work, that’s it. We didn’t want to approach you until later. If necessary.”


    “Until you fucked up.”


    A vein popped out of her forehead. “Do you like irritating swords who could kill you with a single poke?”


    “I irritate everybody, princess. I don’t discriminate.”


    “Great, you’re a pathological dickhead. That makes my job so much easier…” Empress threw her arms up and started pacing around. She ran a hand through her ponytail, looked at the clouds as though God had an answer, and generally had a fun time thinking about her predicament.


    Let’s think about this. Angels Guild had perfectly capable trackers in their ranks, so why Empress? Answer: this wasn’t an ordinary observation mission. Something else was going on behind the scenes, something probably top secret. After all, Empress worked directly for Seraph and Rector (and Kosmos by extension). She was one of their personal agents, handling the most sensitive affairs for Angels.


    They didn’t assign trackers because they wanted to limit the number of people in the know. Hence, Empress. It begged the question of their competence in choosing talent, but that''s another story. All signs indicated that they had little-to-no knowledge about System Articles, so Empress was here for a completely unrelated reason.


    “So…” I spoke up, “...is this the elevator pitch? ‘Join Angels Guild now, and we’ll stop stalking you!’”


    “Hold on.” Empress raised her hand. “No one said anything about recruiting you. Like I said, my mission is observation. Intel-gathering.”


    “So your endgame isn’t recruiting me.”


    Empress nodded. “For what little I can tell you, yes. Don’t worry, you can continue to play broker at your job—or wait, I forgot you’re skipping work.”


    I was tempted to pin her against the wall again. “Shame. Just so you know, I’ve been skipping work because I’m about to give my two weeks.”


    “A tragedy. One less corpo in the field.”


    “I wouldn’t be so hasty.” I produced a business card from my wallet. “If you’re that interested in me, here’s my number and email.”


    Empress stared at my card like it carried the plague. Hell, she looked offended. “You’re quite brave to beg for a job after insulting me.”


    I forced her to take my contact info. “Alternatively, this is me telling you to fuck off with this game-of-spies shit. If you have any questions, ask me. You know, like a normal person? I have no time nor patience to wrestle with swords.”


    She smacked her lips together, reading through the info. In resignation, she tucked the card away. “Fine, I will. Thank you so much for your understanding, Alexander Shen. I imagine you give your number to women after you kick them to the ground and threaten their lives?”


    “No, you’re just that special.”


    “You flatter me.” Empress stood at the edge of the alleyway, pulling her hood and face-mask up. “Anyway, I think that settles our business. I have to report my failure. Fortunately for you, we’ll most likely back off and leave you be.”


    I couldn’t help but smile. “Fantastic. I’m assuming we’ll never meet again?”


    “Genuinely? For your sake?” Empress flashed the same saccharine smile. “I hope so. See you never, Shen.”


    She left and merged into the crowd.


    In the last few days, I angered two of the most famous women in Ordo and both of them now hated my guts.


    I’m the most charismatic man I know.


    ***


    Later that day, midnight actually, my phone buzzed.


    <blockquote>


    Pointy Ears


    You won, Shen. An investigation is underway.


    </blockquote>