“Ladies and gentlemen, I am Noah, the host for this auction.”
“Next, each of you may select one most precious ‘gift’ from among these items for our featured auction lots.”
Pei Qingshan scanned the tray. He didn’t know what kind of character the fire-breathing boss of Paradise Lost was, but the man clearly loved playing at “refined mystery” despite his vulgar and unscrupulous business.
These days, even “Abnormalities” loved branding themselves as aesthetes.
On the exquisite tray lay a disorganized assortment: white fur of unknown origin, a red spine, sharp fangs, scales… a bit of everything.
Pei Qingshan’s eyes swept over several silver-white snake scales. For some reason, they felt familiar. Just as he was about to reach out, a woman with fiery red hair beat him to it. He couldn’t tell exactly what she was, but her exterior was indistinguishable from a human’s.
Rubbing the cold, hard snake scale with her fingers, she suddenly stuck out her tongue and licked it. Pei Qingshan’s dynamic vision was excellent; he clearly saw the sharp barbs on her tongue.
She pulled her mouth open in a “smile”—at least by human standards, it was an incredibly eerie expression. There was no movement in the typical “smiling” muscle groups like the corners of the eyes or the cheeks; it was just a mouth splitting wide open. She gestured toward Pei Qingshan: “I like cold-blooded animals.”
Her voice was strange, a rasp that blurred the line between male and female.
Pei Qingshan glanced at her and withdrew his gaze. She looked like an Abnormality that hadn’t been out of a “Red Tower” for very long.
He maintained a natural expression, picked up a tuft of white mouse fur, and sat back on the sofa to observe.
The Security Academy had provided Pei Qingshan with the identity of a confirmed-dead arms dealer. His records and images had vanished along with the total destruction of Tasanya Prison; it was only known that the fugitive was of mixed heritage. Pei Qingshan’s lineage did indeed have foreign blood within the last three generations, and his features—high brow, deep-set eyes, yet with distinct Asian traits—fit the profile perfectly.
Thus, his name here was—
“Mr. Novikov,” Noah, who had a very effeminate appearance, leaned bonelessly against the back of Pei Qingshan’s chair, breathing softly against the man’s ear. “Since it is your first time here, I suggest you pick something a bit… milder.”
Noah had clearly noticed Pei Qingshan’s interest in the snake scales and said softly, “That creature? It’s quite ferocious.”
“Is that so?” Pei Qingshan crossed his arms and looked directly at the giant cages covered in black cloth being wheeled out by mercenaries. He sneered, “I happen to like ‘ferocious.'”
From Noah’s perspective, he could see the man’s sharp jawline; that well-defined bone structure certainly held up under the overhead lighting. The muscles beneath his silk shirt were robust and lean, and a savage scar extended from the back of his head, disappearing into the collar at his neck.
Noah tsked and stood up. It made sense; these desperate outlaws didn’t come to Paradise Lost unless they were looking for a thrill.
The black curtains were pulled back.
Not only did the predators sitting in their chairs see the prey in the cages, but the prey saw the predators even more clearly—though Noah had added a layer of “veiled mystery” by placing masks on them. Each mask was custom-designed for the specific “freak,” concealing their faces while leaving their non-human, eerie traits exposed.
However, these visitors were used to doing as they pleased in the lawless Sector F; they were out for pleasure and didn’t bother with masks to maintain mystery.
So, at first glance, Wen Zhu saw the figure sitting in the corner who stood out so sharply.
He stared for a full minute, not even hearing a word Noah said, until he was dragged by his shackles to stand before the red-haired woman.
Pei Qingshan sat as steady as a mountain, but he suddenly felt a gaze like a needle-prick fall upon the soft white fur in his hand.
He looked up. His first sight was a pair of cold, golden vertical pupils, followed by a pure white mask covering most of a face. A small patch of silver-gleaming snake scales was visible near the end of an eyebrow.
From a human perspective—to be honest—this Naga was perfectly aligned with human aesthetics. A lean physique was hidden under translucent gauze, and sharp scales grew sparsely over his body, making him look like a piece of ancient, elegant Eastern porcelain.
Pei Qingshan felt the cold-blooded creature’s hostile gaze. Just as he was about to raise an eyebrow in provocation, he was cut off by the mouse-eared youth who had been dragged in front of him.
White, fluffy ears poked out from the youth’s hair. At this distance, Pei could see the veins winding behind the ears, throbbing rhythmically. These were clearly not the “high-tech” cosplay ears one could buy on shopping sites—and speaking of those high-tech ears…
In this deadly undercover atmosphere, Pei Qingshan’s mind suddenly felt as if someone had hit “auto-play,” jumping straight to a late-night memory.
A young man’s fragile wrists, thin enough to be captured in one of his hands… the other hand forcing a pair of faux-fur cat ears onto his head… those eyes, usually cold, shimmering with a suspicious, humiliated moisture that night… the flush of dilated capillaries winding from the corner of his eyes to behind his ears…
Stop!
Pei Qingshan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He suddenly snapped back to reality.
Is this the time for thinking about that?
Besides, the man won’t even bother to reply to your messages now. Have some self-respect!
Officer Pei silently cursed his own masculine base instincts.
He looked up only to find that the hostile gaze hadn’t moved; if anything, it had grown more intense.
He frowned, his eyes clashing with the vertical pupils behind the Naga’s white mask. In that instant, that cold, chilling gaze felt mysteriously and keenly entwined with Pei Qingshan’s sixth sense.
Pei Qingshan suppressed that feeling with annoyance.
“You suicidal idiot! You just had to perform ‘catching yourself’! Who the hell is at this auction that you absolutely had to go? Heh, don’t expect anyone to save you if things go south… Why is there no sound?”
“Hey! Why are you spacing out?”
“Damn it, is this the kind of occasion to daydream? Can you hear me?”
“Wen Bai!”
Wen Zhu was snapped awake by the shouting in his miniature earpiece. Before he could react, something sharp was pressed against his chin, forcing his head back.
The red-haired woman’s gaze looked incredibly playful. She tossed aside her umbrella and stood up; even with Wen Zhu’s extended snake tail, she appeared slightly taller and more imposing.
Wen Zhu realized things were bad; he had been blinded by anger at that dog, Pei Qingshan.
He approached obediently and was immediately pulled onto the woman’s lap by her powerful arm around his waist. Wen Zhu put on a display of panic mixed with just the right amount of shyness, while his sharp claws rested seemingly helplessly near her carotid artery.
Almost simultaneously, Wen Zhu felt the woman’s rough fingertips pinch his neck with precise strength.
She leaned close to his ear, her red lips almost brushing his pinna, sending a skin-crawling tingle down his scalp.
The “woman” spoke in a cold, deep voice: “Behave yourself.”
“…!?” Wen Zhu’s eyes widened suddenly, his vertical pupils nearly dilating into circles.
There was very little acting in this surprise.
His gaze instinctively fell upon the “curves” hidden inside the woman’s tight leather outfit.
Crap.
It’s a freaking man’s voice!
Even Wen Zhu couldn’t help but curse inwardly. He really was falling behind the times; what kind of perverts was that Tower breeding?
“Don’t move,” the “beauty” with the deep bass voice threatened, pressing against the wound on his waist. Only after feeling the person on him tremble did he let go, then asked, “Have you seen a boy?”
“What kind?” Wen Zhu asked carefully. “Does your type count as man or woman?”
“…” The woman choked for a second. “A pair of cat ears on his head, brown, seventeen or eighteen years old.”
Wen Zhu had only met one person who fit that description.
It couldn’t be that much of a coincidence, could it?
The golden pupils squinted slightly. “Is his name Li Zhong?”
“You know him?” The woman’s expression turned dead serious. He asked sharply, “Where is he?”
Wen Zhu said honestly, “We got separated.”
“Where?”
Wen Zhu didn’t even have to think: “In the dungeon.”
The woman—or rather, the man—didn’t speak for a long time. He looked down as if deep in thought. Suddenly, he felt a subtle tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see a pair of pitiful snake eyes peering at him cautiously through the white mask.
“Excuse me…” Wen Zhu hesitated. “Are you his brother?”
The “woman” raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t… don’t misunderstand. Li Zhong and I are friends. He told me himself,” the beautiful Naga said softly.
“…” Seth, listening on the other end, felt like Wen Zhu’s voice was practically “smoking” from how much he was acting. He signaled for the bewildered Li Zhong to come over.
But Wen Zhu seemingly had no intention of using Li Zhong right now. He said airily, “After you find Li Zhong, can you take me with you?”
Li Xian didn’t care about bringing another “burden.” He said concisely, “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
To maintain their advantage, Li Xian had chosen an incredibly suggestive posture. Wen Zhu had no choice but to wrap his arms around the other’s neck; when they spoke, it was no different from whispering directly into each other’s ears. With the snake tail connected to his lean waist, Li Xian felt his palms grow inexplicably hot.
“What’s wrong, Brother Seth?” Li Zhong asked in confusion.
Seth tsked. “Go play.”
Dumb kid, your luck is actually pretty good.
“Mr. Novikov, do you like your gift?” Noah had drifted back over at some point, looking at Pei Qingshan with excitement.
“I think… why don’t you trade that snake over to me instead?”
Pei Qingshan wasn’t flustered at being caught staring at someone else’s prey. He leisurely crossed his legs. He possessed the nobility of accumulated wealth and power, yet was saturated with a savage, primal sense of lethality.
Noah’s eyes still held a faint trace of scrutiny.
Humans are always much more cunning. A little extra caution is good.
“Novikov?” Seth caught this part of the conversation through the earpiece. He murmured the familiar surname and tsked. “How does he have the same surname as me?”
He felt a slight pang of nostalgia, like meeting a fellow countryman in a foreign land. The signal was flickering; Seth pulled the device out from a corner of his clothing—the audio quality was vintage, clearly having suffered years of wear and tear.
Seth listened with bated breath, feeling a “pain in the ass” coming on.
“You have excellent taste, sir. That is our grand finale item. Do you see that snake tail? Playing with that is a completely different sensation than a pair of legs. How do you people say it? Guaranteed to steal your soul…”
Noah paused, tossing a half-hearted flirtatious look at the excited “arms dealer,” and said slowly:
“I hear your arms business is quite substantial. We look forward to your bidding tonight.”
Li Xian felt the section where the snake tail met the waist in his palm suddenly stiffen. He cast a questioning look.
Wen Zhu only managed a strained smile. He genuinely wanted to kill Seth.
Unaware of which words had struck a nerve, Seth suddenly began to curse furiously over the earpiece in a non-international language. Wen Zhu felt his eardrums ringing from the noise.
“Wen Bai! He isn’t a Novikov at all! Watch out for that liar! That bitch! That son-of-a-bitch money-loser!” Seth roared. “I am the real Seth Novikov!”
Only then did Wen Zhu realize why Seth was losing his mind.
It made sense; how could Pei Qingshan enter using an official identity?
It really was an unfortunate coincidence.
Wen Zhu instinctively looked toward Pei Qingshan, only to lock eyes with the man’s pensive gaze.
As it happened, when Noah had walked past, the slight, subtle gust of air he created had brushed aside the stray hairs on Wen Zhu’s right ear—revealing a striking red mole right by his ear.