The limp little dandelion rubbed her eyes. Her mask had fallen off, and her colored contacts were nowhere to be found. She wiped away a single tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye from fatigue, then absentmindedly patted the small chive at her feet. The little chive obediently stayed put, not daring to move.
Perhaps pleased by its docile behavior, Pu Xin thought for a moment, then picked it up and looped it around her wrist like a bracelet.
At her feet, four or five people were sprawled haphazardly. All had been bundled into “rice dumplings” with chive leaves, and they could only stare helplessly and make muffled whimpering sounds.
Pu Xin shook the titanium bracelet now around her wrist with delight, enjoying the crisp, pleasing sound of it clinking against itself, even deliberately tugging it to make a ping-pong-like noise.
After only a few seconds, she let go of the bracelet, tilting her head to look down the dark corridor. Her eyes strained to focus, but she couldn’t see Xiu Xiu, mumbling dizzily, “Zhizhi, where did you go?”
The aftereffects of the wine hit her, making the scene before her alternate between clarity and blur. Gradually, she recalled that not long ago, Xiu Xiu’s presence had vanished beside her, and someone had whisked her away from the noisy banquet hall.
Remembering Xiu Xiu’s warning before she came—that she must never leave his side—she noticed one of her captors was accompanied by a small chive and decided to make use of it, subduing the others.
Memory fully returning, Pu Xin’s eyes widened. She viciously stomped on one of the “rice dumplings,” imitating the playful tone she had once seen mischievous demi-humans use to intimidate others, and growled, “Where did you take my Xiu Xiu?”
She tried to look fearsome, but her appearance was far too soft and cute to convey menace, resembling a small cat doting on its owner rather than a threatening force.
The little chive seemed to sense her anger and shivered, curling its leaves to lower its presence. Instinctively, it tightened the chive leaves around the “rice dumplings.”
The “rice dumplings” nearly choked, but the leaves were wrapped too tightly for them to move, let alone resist.
The one Pu Xin pressed down with her foot struggled to make muffled whimpering sounds, but she didn’t interpret it as a plea and, with bleary vision, fished out a long chive leaf from the small chive to use as a whip, lazily flicking it down.
The little chive tensed its body, and instantly the leaf became as stiff as a wooden rod, obediently whipping the “rice dumplings” with a dull thud.
The “rice dumplings” whimpered even louder. Pu Xin’s gaze drifted aimlessly, blinking a few times before noticing that their mouths were tightly blocked by the chive leaves.
The little chive, keenly aware of where her gaze landed, loosened its grip slightly but didn’t fully release, cautious of any sudden cries for help from the “rice dumplings.”
Yet clearly, the “rice dumplings” had little pride left; they had been frightened by the shadows projected on the corridor walls by the dim light.
Despite being a naïve and somewhat naive-looking girl, slightly unsteady from the wine, with her mask removed, her exquisite dress made her look stunning. Holding the chive whip with a small yellow flower in her hair swaying, the wall’s shadow resembled a clawing, dancing demon.
What truly crushed the “rice dumplings’” hearts was the chive leaf under Pu Xin’s control. Never had anyone been able to manipulate demi-humans—even the demi-humans themselves.
Her emerald green eyes, set off by the dim light, seemed to glow an eerie green, like twin ghostly flames in a demon’s castle, ready to pounce on them as prey.
Yes, yes!
One of the “rice dumplings” swallowed, recalling scenes of demi-humans embedding their roots into humans to drain their blood…
Once freed, the “rice dumpling” convulsed uncontrollably, as if resonating with the victims he had seen, stammering, “We… we didn’t capture your… your Xiu Xiu, the boss, the boss only told us to bring you over…”
His words were jumbled, yet his meaning was clear, while in his heart he screamed—
What Xiu Xiu? Who would dare capture the child of such a fierce demi-human? The boss must be insane for not sending a Sequence Killer! How could they, lowly lackeys, contend with this demon!
Even worse, 009—someone highly valued by the boss and capable—had defected at the scene!
Pu Xin didn’t notice the “rice dumplings’” collapse; unsatisfied with their explanation, she pressed harder with her foot, tightening the chive leaves.
The little chive redoubled its effort to show loyalty, causing one “rice dumpling” to scream in pain, only to have his mouth blocked again by the leaves. Pu Xin shook the chive whip and asked again, “Lu Xunzhi, where did you take Lu Xunzhi?”
Xiu Xiu already had a name, and humans preferred using proper designations rather than vague nicknames.
The “rice dumplings” broke into cold sweat from pain. Before they could surrender, the little chive had looped two leaves around Pu Xin’s wrist and poked its head out obediently, saying, “Pu Pu, I know where the ones who were taken are.”
No demi-human under Devil’s Eye could be unaware of Emerald Lake’s master, Pu Pu. She was the oldest demi-human after Grandpa Cangshu, treated younger demi-humans well, and none dared act up in her presence.
The little chive had once wondered why, sneaking to Emerald Lake to watch Pu Pu soak her feet, and seeing the submissive Devil Flower offering a fruit trick to Pu Pu, who called it Ghost Ghost.
Though Pu Pu had seemingly not noticed it, the Devil Flower glared fiercely, and the little chive fled, fearing it would never see Pu Pu or Devil Flower again. Yet now, their encounter had come unexpectedly.
Though Pu Pu didn’t recognize it, the little chive clung to her leg. Pu Pu was a ruthless demi-human who even ignored the Devil Flower.
In the little chive’s eyes, Pu Xin was towering. In the human world, it had learned cunning, how to hedge its bets, to know what served it best, no longer humiliating itself in servitude.
Pu Xin squinted at it. The little chive shrank slightly, lifting a leaf to point toward a corridor, “Go this way, and you’ll find them.”
The little chive had also been captured for the underground auction, but being an unremarkable chive, humans had no use for it. Fortunately, it knew how to curry favor and diligently completed tasks, earning the auction house master’s trust.
Yet as a demi-human, it was looked down upon. Its usual work was to disguise other demi-humans as human participants to replace them at the masquerade, allowing them to quietly join subsequent auctions.
“Take me there.” Pu Xin nudged the little chive. It slipped from her wrist to the floor, tightened the “rice dumplings,” and waddled ahead, tap-tap-tapping along.
The corridor stretched on endlessly.
High heels made it hard to walk far. Without Xiu Xiu protecting her, a misstep could cause her to fall. She wrinkled her nose, kicked off her shoes in disgust, and walked barefoot.
The soft red carpet shielded her from the cold floor, and she tapped it a few times with some amusement before remembering her task and hurrying along, holding up her dress.
The underground auction hall was like a massive labyrinth—dark, twisting corridors. Following the little chive’s directions, Pu Xin suddenly heard soft footsteps and distant voices approaching.
She shook the small yellow flower on her head and puffed herself up into a palm-sized dandelion. Guided by the little chive, she hid behind a large shield held by a human-faced knight decoration.
Looking down, her dress, the smart bracelet, and the titanium bracelet given by the “rice dumplings” lay on the floor. The little chive, sweating profusely, quickly used its leaves to bundle the dress and bracelet together and drag them behind the decoration.
Pu Xin swayed the small yellow flower while seated behind the shield, casually dropping a round dandelion fluff onto the ground. Upon contact, the fluff clutched the smart bracelet and hairband, floating up to merge with her flower, the bracelet forming a necklace-like circle on her leaves, and the hairband tied into a neat bow on the stem.
She moved deliberately, while the little chive almost panicked. As the bow was secured, two figures entered the corridor; any slip would expose their position.
The two palm-sized demi-humans reacted completely differently. Pu Xin lounged behind the shield’s handle, swaying the yellow flower as if on a leisurely outing rather than infiltrating enemy territory, while the little chive nervously clung to the handle, unsure where to place its leaves.
“How’s it over there?” A female voice echoed through the quiet corridor. Pu Xin found it familiar.
She paused, the flower in her hand shaking, recalling the woman in the rabbit mask at the masquerade who had approached her. The tone was lazy, each word dripping indolence.
“Everything is arranged. Those fools from the National Security Bureau think they’ve caught us in the act, unaware we’ve set a trap,” said 74, disdainful. He added, “72 has already brought Lu Xunzhi to the follow-up auction. He should soon see his demi-human mother being sold.”
The woman wasn’t easily reassured. “Chains have been applied?”
Lu Xunzhi was hard to handle, true, but his fatal flaw was his obedience, putting himself in danger. He had exposed himself, attempting to sneak in, obediently following their orders for a foolish reason.
It seemed battlefield prowess had made the young, successful Lu forget that the real danger lay in human cunning. How could a single-minded demi-human or insects compare?
“Of course, 72 brought ten people. He wouldn’t let the plan fail and surrender,” 74 said, his tone laced with sarcasm and disdain. “Even the Federal Blade is nothing more than that.”
“Without powers or mental strength, he’s a fish on a chopping board. With him in hand, no worry about Lu Bieling not listening.”
To raise his half-blood son’s status, Lu Bieling had allowed demi-humans into the Federation army. Who could have guessed the mighty Marshal Lu would ultimately fall at the hands of his own son?
Thinking of the potential future, 74 couldn’t contain his excitement.
The boy’s foolish actions had all been noted by the woman, whose eyes flashed with mockery. If Lu Bieling were truly easy to handle, the organization wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to trap him.
Thinking of the meticulous plans at the Lu estate undone overnight, a shadow crept into the woman’s eyes. The name “Shadow of the Tree” and Marshal Lu’s arrogance in the Federation made him a formidable foe.
Hearing Xiu Xiu’s name, Pu Xin’s yellow flower perked up. As the conversation continued, her green leaves lightly tapped the stem, itching to leave the shield.
The little chive clutched her desperately. Going out now would alert the enemy.
Pu Xin and the little chive communicated silently. She realized the woman was Lilia, the auction house boss, who disguised herself as a guest for every auction and selected participants for the next round. Some guests didn’t know demi-humans would be auctioned; those meeting Lilia’s criteria were drawn into this hidden world.
After a brief exchange, Pu Xin judged Lilia to be thoroughly malicious. She had captured Xiu Xiu to threaten the foolish father.
Recalling the way Lilia had looked at Xiu Xiu as if to devour him, Pu Xin shook the yellow flower in disgust, pushed aside the chive leaves on herself, and flicked the trembling little chive beside her with her foot.
The little chive, completely unprepared, fell freely, landing silently on its pointed leaves, narrowly avoiding making a sound.
Passing the human-faced knight, the breeze from walking cooled the little chive, making it shiver. It lifted a leaf to protest Pu Xin’s cruelty, but she shook the flower, signaling her intent—trip that evil woman.
The little chive froze for two seconds, its large eyes widening, and frantically tried to resist, but the leaves curled together on their own, burrowing under the red carpet.
Pu Xin didn’t force it, merely peeking her yellow flower out from behind the shield, as if checking whether Ghost Ghost was looking for her.
Two seconds later, Lilia stepped on the wrinkled carpet in heels, twisted her ankle, and fell hard.
The sudden mishap startled 74, who tensed, but saw no other movement. Looking down, he noticed the uneven carpet and the furious Lilia struggling to rise.
Her rabbit mask had fallen, revealing a heavily made-up face—not ugly, but anything but attractive. Anger twisted her features, making her ordinary look ferocious.
74 was shocked, quickly kneeling to help, but before he could reach out, he was slapped and scolded with two words: “Useless!”
Lilia maintained grace in front of guests, but with subordinates, she revealed her cruelty. Slight displeasure was met with a slap, worse mistakes sent to the auction’s lowest level to feed violent-type aliens.
74 had seen countless comrades fail or incur Lilia’s wrath and become alien fodder; he knew her ferocity. Showing any grievance now was impossible.
“Boss, are you alright? I’ll handle the carpet staff immediately,” he said, hiding the pain of the slap.
His humble demeanor slightly subdued Lilia’s anger, allowing her to rise with his help, her voice icy, “Send them to feed my little dogs!”
74 nodded, supporting Lilia as she walked away.
Pu Xin leaned against the shield, swaying her feet, while the little chive cautiously climbed up, peeking through the leaves with wide, white eyes. It sensed her bad mood and didn’t dare complain about being kicked, instead asking softly, “Pu Pu, are you going?”
Pu Xin tilted the yellow flower, lifted the little chive, and used it as a parachute to wobble safely to the floor.
“First, let’s go deal with that evil woman’s little dogs.” The little dandelion returned to human form, no longer in her earlier gown but in the pale green dress she wore when she first met Xiu Xiu.
The dress was pristine, ankle-length, swaying with her steps, faintly glowing in the dark corridor like fireflies in a summer meadow.
“Wasn’t it said the National Security Bureau was watching this place? You still dare come?”
A man in a fox mask leaned back in a private room, legs crossed, with several demi-humans fanning tails, massaging him, feeding him fruit, thoroughly at ease.
He was speaking to a man in a black cloak, fully masked.
The latter glared at a red-tailed fox attempting to feed him fruit, disdainfully saying, “Just a bunch of fools. By now, that woman Lilia has probably toyed with them thoroughly. There’s no way they’d find this place so soon.”
He added coldly, “Keep those flashy foxes away from me, disgusting!”
Reasoning prevails.
People living in darkness always fantasize about chasing thrills. Even knowing the Federal Security Bureau has eyes on them, they insist on one last wild spree before leaving, unafraid of slipping up, only to end up entirely in Federal prison.
The man in the fox mask laughed heartily. “Old Gou, what’s wrong with you? My darling isn’t beautiful enough?”
As he spoke, he wrapped his arms around the white-tailed fox’s waist and bit down hard on her neck. The white-tailed fox winced in pain but dared not struggle.
The man called Old Gou frowned, displeased. “Who told you to call me that here?”
The fox-masked man shrugged, unconcerned. “There’s no one else here. What’s the big deal?”
Ignoring Old Gou’s dangerous glare, he took a sip of red wine served by the purple-tailed fox. “You really helped the organization this time. Liya’s plan wouldn’t have succeeded without you. Tonight, pick whatever you like from the haul.”
Old Gou sneered coldly. “Why would I want this disgusting stuff? Just transfer the money to my Aaron Bank account.”
The fox-masked man clicked his tongue in mock reproach. “Why can’t you ever change? What’s the use of having money with nowhere to spend it?”
Old Gou remained silent.
Having money with no place to spend it was better than wanting to spend it but having none. When he reached the end of the line, he could always retreat to the Empire as his last resort.
The fox-masked man easily guessed his thoughts but feigned indifference. He fiddled with the intelligence device in front of them, and a large virtual screen popped up.
“Look at this. Thanks to you, Lu Xunzhi, the beloved son of Marshal Lu and the so-called Blade of the Federation, is now our prisoner.”
On the screen, Lu Xunzhi had been unmasked, hands shackled, surrounded by ten killers in a private room. His gaze was heavy, fixed ahead, emotions unreadable but clearly tense, teetering on the edge of eruption.
Compared to calm waiting, this volatile, explosive mood gave the fox-masked man more confidence.
“He’s probably still expecting the FSB to intervene…” he mused, then snorted. “Such naïve thinking. If the FSB were truly airtight, last time’s mission wouldn’t have failed. Yet the seemingly invincible Marshal Lu never realized it.”
After stumbling upon the illegal sale of demi-humans, the FSB had begun investigating. Lu Xunzhi had caught a trace during a mission and collaborated with Deputy Director Fang Jing, acting without even notifying the FSB Director to ensure secrecy. The mission had seemed foolproof, but unfortunately…
The fox-masked man glanced at Old Gou. “You’re not a director for nothing. You hear everything, don’t you?”
Exposed, the FSB Director’s rage flared. He looked at the foxes and touched his gun. The fox-masked man restrained his arm. “Relax, my darlings are all mute little ones.”
The director remained uneasy. “My identity is classified. What can your foxes guarantee?”
The fox-masked man smirked. “What’s there to fear? Without evidence, accusations mean nothing. I could even spread that Lu Bieling is an Empire spy planted in the Federation if anyone complained.”
Such twisted reasoning? Lu Bieling’s fame was built on battlefield achievements. Slandering him undermined the Federation itself. Even without the Bureau investigating, public outrage would drown the defamer.
The director seethed but knew he couldn’t touch the fox-masked man.
With one hand on the sofa, the fox-masked man grinned wickedly. “Imagine his face if he knew your meddling caused his two failed plans.”
The director’s anger flared, masked though it was. “You’re insane! Revealing my identity could ruin everything if he escapes!”
The fox-masked man nonchalantly bit a strawberry. “I’m joking.”
A cold snort responded.
“If you save Lu Xunzhi at the last moment, shouldn’t your position shift too?” the fox-masked man said, casually proposing something the FSB Director couldn’t refuse.
Within seconds, the director’s rage vanished. “What do you mean?”
Greed is easy to bait.
“If you rescue the dying Lu Xunzhi, Lu Bieling might view you differently—maybe even push you to the Deputy Minister of Defense,” he suggested meaningfully.
The post had recently been vacated, many qualified candidates waited, including the director. Unsurprisingly, he fell into contemplation.
“This is Liya’s plan, but it’s risky. Lu Xunzhi clings like a mad dog. If we don’t act now, he might strike next.”
The fox-masked man opened his hands on the sofa, speaking without full agreement, leaving the director room to decide.
The director knew nothing comes free. The man’s attention promised greater rewards. Once lured by wealth and power, retreat was impossible.
The fox-masked man watched Lu Xunzhi struggle on the virtual screen, patiently awaiting the director’s response. The answer was obvious: greed would consume him.
The director’s dry lips moved hoarsely. “Perfect plan. With me there, taking him down is easy.”
The fox-masked man laughed and patted his shoulder. “Naturally, without you we wouldn’t have caught Lu Xunzhi.”
“One leads to another. Catching is hard; killing is easy,” he summarized, adding, “But remember, Liya won’t work wholeheartedly without reward. After all, it’s her life’s work.”
“Later we’ll discuss rewards. Today, she deserves a taste.”
The director sneered inwardly. This underground auction had already been compromised. Liya’s life’s work or even a century of it—meant nothing. The fox used her as a pretext to extract Federation secrets.
The director crossed his legs calmly. “After the auction, the FSB will dispatch teams to all star systems and inspect every port.”
The fox-masked man squinted, handing over wine. “Which system first?”
The director took it, replying cautiously. “Orders come from Lu Bieling to the Ministry. FSB doesn’t have clearance yet.”
Detecting negotiation, the fox-masked man faked displeasure, then drained his glass. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you that Deputy Minister position soon.”
Reassured, the director focused on Lu Xunzhi, imagining his imminent promotion.
With the deal sealed, the fox-masked man shifted topics. “The auction’s starting. Want to pick something to take home?”
The director, disgusted with demi-humans, sharply refused.
A holographic projection of the auction hall appeared, opulent yet humble to participants.
The hall resembled an ancient cathedral, with bright lighting and wine-red décor, seats in a ring around a central stage, currently empty. Behind the ring, private boxes concealed buyers’ identities.
A gentle female voice announced, “Attention bidders, the auction is about to begin.”
“After the auction starts, bids are placed from the boxes. A virtual screen above the stage shows all bids. Each item allows three bids. Once used, no further bids…”
A subtle vibration at the ceiling went unnoticed but felt by all.
Illegal trading under FSB supervision stirred perverse desires.
When the rules ended, the fox-masked man’s box opened. Liya entered with No. 74.
Her face showed anger, radiating fury into the room. The fox-masked man whistled silently, amused yet wary.
The FSB Director, usually silent, would have left if not for the fox-masked man.
Liya, seated, saw the director fully covered in gear. Sneering, she said, “Who are you hiding from?”
Not only had he altered his shape with prosthetics, his face entirely covered. Careful or cowardly? The latter.
The director, unfazed, warned, “Careless. If FSB notices, your plans fail.”
Liya smirked at the virtual-screened Lu Xunzhi, teasing, “Afraid he’ll lift your mask?”
The director, stung, swallowed the insult.
Liya calmed, took red wine from the white-tailed fox, and treated her bruised face.
With rules announced, activity stirred on the stage. A golden cage rose from below.
Veteran buyers remained composed, sipping wine, watching FSB members fight violent-type aliens via hologram. Blood and chaos excited them.
Soon, all eyes shifted to a girl in red sheer fabric inside the golden cage. Snow drifted around her, landing delicately on her, enhancing her icy beauty.
She nervously surveyed the empty auction hall, fingers stained crimson, gripping the cage, black hair covering her body modestly.
Feeling hungry gazes, she saw no one. Fear built tears in her eyes, forming a lifelike red plum mark at the corner.
Gasps and excitement swept buyers.
The base price flashed: 100 million Federation Credits.
Bidding erupted.
Liya smiled at the commotion. Innocent girls caused more frenzy than seductive women. A single red plum provoked this; a naïve little dandelion could cause bloodshed.
Watching, Lu Xunzhi frowned. Memories of first encountering the “stupid mother” in an underground auction came back. She too had been caged, transported, and displayed. Without his earlier unilateral command ignoring the FSB, she would have been auctioned like merchandise. Rage boiled within him.
He suppressed it, watching the rising bids reach 1 billion Federation Credits.
At the third flicker, a tiny click resounded. Buyers’ hearts raced, blending thrill with fear.
All turned to the sound: a pale hand grasped the gilded door, nails round and pink, fingertips pale with effort.
Neither Liya nor the fox-masked man had planned this. Their immediate reaction was confusion.
The little dandelion, stepping through, complained softly, “Wasn’t Zhizhi brought here? Why is no one around?”
Her long hair bounced playfully, green eyes scanning, stepping confidently on golden tiles.
She noticed the golden cage and softly exclaimed, running to the red-plum girl.
“Why are you locked up?” she asked, tilting her head.
The auction’s holographic projection captured every detail.
Flawless skin, pure innocence—she was enchanting.
The red-plum girl’s fear softened. “Where did you come from? Please leave…”
The little dandelion ignored her, worried about her own “little one,” murmuring complaints about it going missing.
The red-plum girl panicked, thinking the little one was taken, tears welling, and shook her head, “I haven’t seen other dandelions…”
Unable to help, she hesitated, watching the little dandelion poke a snow-making device.
Buyers laughed, greed intensifying.
Liya received inquiries about price. The fox-masked man licked his lips, intrigued, “Where did you find this little demi-human? Gorgeous.”
Liya remained concerned. The appearance of Pu Xin wasn’t planned. She lifted her chin, proud. “She’s my prey.”
The fox-masked man raised an eyebrow, understanding. “No wonder you auctioned your favorite lop-eared rabbit. Found a new love?”
Ignoring him, Liya moved to seize the girl, accompanied by No. 74.
Pu Xin played with the mechanical arm, picking up snow. Curious, the red-plum girl’s fear vanished, thinking it a toy.
Pu Xin crouched, mechanical arms collided, sparking and misaligning. Unaware, she picked up a red plum flower and handed it to the red-plum girl.
Caught by her clear eyes, the red-plum girl obeyed, lifting her hands to receive it. Pu Xin smiled.
A memory flashed: endless dandelion fields, Emerald Lake, girls playing, demi-humans tending to her. A red plum’s petals hardened mysteriously.
When the cage shattered from Lu Xunzhi’s rage, petals sliced through the cage and mechanical arms, creating chaos.
Liya hesitated, viewing the surveillance, witnessing the snow and red plums.
The girl caught a snowflake, placing it atop a red plum. Pure white and vivid red merged, obliterating the hall’s grandeur.
She looked at the cameras; her gaze, pure as mountain spring water, chilled Liya.
Instinctively retreating, she prepared her escape. Her ankle snapped tight. She fell, jaw and tongue aching, blood and fear overwhelming her.
Footsteps closed in; 74 moved first into the escape passage, operating it to shut the gate.
Liya, in pain, threatened him with her energy gun.
The two villains clashed; Little Chives covered his tiny eyes, exposing half, making him comical.
Lu Xunzhi exhaled, controlling his inner beast, scanning boxes. Suddenly, Pu Xin’s cheerful calls reached him.
He restrained his rage, ready to question her. She poked his cheek, teasing, “Stupid Zhizhi, where were you? I’m worried.”
He laughed and scolded softly. “Mom didn’t watch me. Bad people took me.”
Ten minutes later, Deputy Director Fang Jing arrived, nearly tripping. He had expected Pu Xin in the cage, awaiting rescue. Instead, she lounged in Lu Xunzhi’s arms, sipping juice, a red-plum hairpin in her hair.
Behind them, Liya was dragged, bruised and bleeding.
Fang Jing, embarrassed, adjusted his glasses. Lu Xunzhi berated him.
The scared deputy bowed deeply to Pu Xin, who, confused, sipped juice, deciding not to reveal her prior wandering through the auction hall.