"There's an advantage to eating breakfast close to noon."
"What's that?"
"A lot of popular restaurants are just opening up, so there's no queue."
"Is what we're eating still breakfast, then?"
"Brunch—eating two meals in one saves the cost of a meal."
"Wise words, Section Chief."
The two sat down at a dining table and placed their orders quickly.
Ye Huan took the opportunity to check the time.
A little over forty minutes had passed since the last sacrificial ritual.
He still had over two hours left.
The next stronghold wasn't far.
If they were only having a meal, he should have plenty of time.
Most importantly, he had fought two battles back-to-back that morning, exchanging blows with two Shidu-level martial artists, and then had to deal with that woman's head; he really was feeling a bit worn out.
Staying beside Song Fushan, a Jiuyao-level expert, he could rest, eat, and play games.
His safety was guaranteed.
On top of that, he could ask about a few things.
Ye Huan fetched a bottled drink for Song Fushan and changed the subject: "Section Chief, my informant is an ordinary person currently staying in a safehouse—but I can't keep her cooped up in a safehouse for the rest of her life."
"A believer of the Black Tide Cult?" Song Fushan asked.
"Yes," Ye Huan said.
"If you want to keep her alive, there is a way," Song Fushan mused.
"What way?" Ye Huan asked immediately.
"Earn merits—perform some major merit, and your informant will be taken care of as well."
"Taken care of how?"
"Once you submit an application, she can be relocated to a prosperous region of the empire. That's far from the frontier, much safer than Lantie City," Song Fushan explained.
"Is there no Black Tide Cult there?" Ye Huan asked.
"You silly kid," Song Fushan chuckled. "What does the Black Tide Cult even count for? At most, it can only exert influence over frontier areas near the wilderness like Lantie City.
"Try having its master go deep into the human empire.
"In minutes they'd teach it to return eternally to the Ether."
"...Section Chief, what does 'return eternally to the Ether' mean?"
"It means getting killed."
"Oh."
Ye Huan fell into thought.
*Earn merits...*
He genuinely wanted to save Luosha.
She deserved a better life!
...Right.
There was another way.
It wasn't appropriate to ask Song Fushan, but if he could return to the Taiyin Sect and live as a sect disciple, he could ask the Taiyin Sect's elders!
Why was a cult "Holy Maiden" like Luosha endowed with the authority of a Holy Maiden?
And what method was there to save her from her fate?
The Taiyin Sect was a great sect of the world; they were bound to have an answer!
Speaking of which.
That girl An Qi was a real headache.
How wonderful it would be if this evil cult could be rooted out completely.
*Sigh.*
Once this affair settled down, he would hunker down in the Mysterious Affairs Section and slack off every day with the Section Chief.
Ye Huan thought silently to himself.
"Up for a game?" Song Fushan suddenly asked.
"Sure." Ye Huan pulled out his phone.
While waiting for the dishes, the two queued up a round in a fighting game.
"Let me teach you a thing or two. These versus games aren't as simple as you think," Song Fushan said.
"It's not decided yet who'll win or lose," Ye Huan countered.
"Bring it on, then," Song Fushan said.
Both held their phones with solemn expressions, utterly focused on their match.
Just as the round was nearing its end—
"Hello, Mr. Song."
Someone walked over.
"President Zhao! You're eating here too?" Song Fushan immediately interrupted the game, standing up to greet the man with a smile.
Ye Huan, however, furrowed his brow.
He was about to win.
Song Fushan had used greeting someone as an excuse to tab out of the game.
That was cheating!
Who was it that had saved his neck?
Ye Huan looked disgruntledly at the newcomer.
It was a middle-aged man in a martial arts robe, sporting a long beard and a ruddy complexion. His brow was habitually furrowed, yet a gentle smile rested on his face.
"A few old friends and I are having a get-together today. And this young man beside you is...?" the middle-aged man asked.
"My new section member, Ye Huan," Song Fushan said, patting Ye Huan's shoulder. "Come, this is President Zhao of the Lantie City Martial Arts Association."
"Pleased to meet you, President Zhao," Ye Huan hurriedly stood up and said.
Behind President Zhao, several more people entered the restaurant. Seeing Song Fushan, they walked over with smiles.
Song Fushan seemed familiar with all of them, exchanging greetings and jokes in an exceptionally lively atmosphere.
Ye Huan glanced around the group.
Above each person's head floated an identity reading "Master of [X] Martial Arts School."
These were the martial arts elites of Lantie City!
Wait.
There seemed to be an outlier among them.
He looked toward President Zhao, only to see that the identity floating above his head was "Survivor."
That was remarkably eye-catching.
In other words—
Among all of President Zhao's personal identities, the one most recognized and ranked at the very top was "Survivor."
Even his identity as "President of the Lantie City Martial Arts Association" had to take second place!
Intrigued, Ye Huan stared at the tag again.
Small text promptly surfaced beside it:
"Identity Achievement:"
"In that famous Black Tide incident, all travelers perished, and only he returned alive from the wilderness."
"Identity Challenge: Escape back to Lantie City alongside him."
"Success grants achievement settlement."
"Begin challenge?"
"Note: You have already attempted a challenge once today. You must wait until tomorrow to undertake an identity achievement challenge again."
*Survivor...*
Ye Huan sank into thought.
By this point, the pleasantries were wrapping up.
The martial artists warmly invited Song Fushan and Ye Huan to join them, but Song Fushan politely declined on the grounds that they had an assignment later.
The two groups parted ways.
The dishes Song Fushan and Ye Huan ordered were brought to the table.
The two ate and chatted.
"That President Zhao was quite a figure back in the day," Song Fushan said.
"Quite a figure? Back in the day?" Ye Huan asked.
—It was rare to see Song Fushan praise someone like that.
"In genuine life-or-death struggles, he always triumphed over his opponents. That's why everyone elected him president," Song Fushan said.
"He's a Jiuyao-level martial artist, right?" Ye Huan asked.
"Yes," Song Fushan replied.
"No wonder. Your realm is terrifying—I can't even see the moves clearly," Ye Huan mumbled around a mouthful of food.
Song Fushan shook his head. "In recent years, he's lost his fighting spirit. Back then, he was truly an impressive fellow—alert as a leopard, ready to hunt at any moment."
"What happened in between?" Ye Huan asked.
"Nothing happened. He had some courage when he was young, but a life of luxury ruined him," Song Fushan said.
"A good life can ruin someone too?" Ye Huan asked.
"He has status now, money, and everyone's admiration. Many people become infatuated with that state and can no longer be as fearless as they were in their youth."
Song Fushan set down his chopsticks, looking somewhat dispirited.
"Did he do anything illustrious? I mean, when he was young," Ye Huan said.
"He survived in the wilderness all on his own," Song Fushan said.
Ye Huan nodded thoughtfully.
That was indeed an achievement worthy of immense admiration.
Beneath Daozang Baji, surviving alone in the wilderness was practically impossible.
A feat that commanded everyone's attention.
If one day he grew tired of living and wanted some excitement, perhaps he could challenge this "Survivor" Identity Achievement.
The consequence of dying was merely being unable to challenge again that day.
And he could see what the wilderness looked like while he was at it.
"Section Chief, aren't you going over to eat with them? They invited you so warmly just now," Ye Huan asked.
"Just a bunch of old men clinging to a comfortable life. I can't be bothered to eat with them," Song Fushan sneered.
He pulled out his phone, opened the game interface, and said, "I let you off easy that last round. Let's have a serious match this time."
"Bring it on," Ye Huan said, refusing to back down.
The fighting game began once more.
Ye Huan gradually seized the upper hand. Both his health bar and accumulated ultimate meter were far ahead of Song Fushan's.
Song Fushan's expression grew increasingly grim, indignation flashing in his eyes.
Suddenly, someone came over to invite Song Fushan: "We haven't started eating yet. Please come sit with us and say a few words."
"Forget it, I won't go," Song Fushan declined.
"President Zhao made a special trip back to fetch two bottles of Light of the Empire—twenty-year-aged Baiyuni—saying he wanted you to sample it."
On Ye Huan's phone screen, several large words suddenly popped up:
"Game Interrupted."
*Wait—*
Ye Huan snapped his head up, meeting Song Fushan's solemn, earnest gaze.
*You're not going to cheat again, are you?!*
"It's rare for everyone to gather together, and it's been a long time since I've seen some of these old friends and familiar faces. Ye Huan, you eat here; I'll go catch up with a few old pals."
Ye Huan couldn't help but say, "Hey, Section Chief, that match just now—"
Song Fushan was already on his feet, following the man toward the private dining room. He waved without looking back. "Don't wait for me later. You can head back on your own.
"I've covered the bill for this table."
Ye Huan froze.
A waiter walked over, setting down the dishes.
"Hello, your dishes are all served. Would you like rice scooped now?"
"A bowl, please. Thank you."
"Right away."
Ye Huan sat alone in the main hall, quietly eating four dishes all by himself.
How heartbreaking.
...A "lone wolf" who had fought his way out of a brutal war, slaughtered hundreds of pursuers along the way, and escaped with his life... had been ruined by a comfortable life.
...
Ye Huan wove through alley after alley before suddenly ducking into an abandoned factory building.
This had once been the city's chemical plant.
Due to urban expansion, residential buildings had sprung up around it, gradually turning the area into a living district, so the entire plant had been relocated to the city outskirts.
Only these hollow, useless old buildings remained, not fully demolished even after several years.
Ye Huan stood in the darkness of the factory.
Not far off.
A group of masked men and women dressed in long robes had gathered.
They were loudly, passionately chanting scriptures.
Above each of their heads floated identity tags like "Black Tide Cultist," "Black Tide Guard," and "Black Tide Devout."
The place was right.
The people were right, too.
Two unconscious young children were carried in and began to be tied to chairs.
Others carried in firewood, piling it around the two children.
It was indeed a ritual.
Only, this ritual seemed to have started rather hurriedly.
Ye Huan watched for a moment, took out his phone, muted it, snapped a few photos, and posted them into a group chat.
The Bureau of Investigation work group.
Accompanied by the address.
One second.
Two seconds.
Song Fushan was the first to send a private message:
"Well done. Knowing to share credit means you've matured."
Followed by an "I believe in you" emoji.
Ye Huan's face hardened.
—He didn't feel like talking to someone who cheated at games today!
He stowed his phone and strode toward the ritual site.
Investigators had complicated thoughts.
Some might want to leave captives alive to interrogate for intel.
That wouldn't do.
Once they arrived, rescuing the victims was enough.
He needed to move fast!
"Who are you?"
A cultist spotted Ye Huan first and opened fire without hesitation.
This immediately reminded Ye Huan of the Taiyin Sect's movement technique, Three Skims of the Flying Swallow.
He had given it up for the sake of safety.
His mood was thoroughly foul.
*Clang, clang, clang—*
He snatched several bullets right out of the air and hurled them back with all his might.
The man was riddled from head to toe, collapsing to the floor in convulsions.
More cultists noticed Ye Huan.
The leader was about to bark an order when his phone suddenly rang.
He glanced at it, uttered not a sound, and immediately moved to stab the two unconscious children with a knife.
This scene put Ye Huan on high alert.
Who sent that message?
Why were they rushing to kill the hostages?
He was too far away to sprint over in time.
There was nothing useful on the ground either.
Ye Huan let out an enraged roar. His hand, as hard as steel, plunged into the floor, kneaded the concrete underneath into a ball, yanked his hand free, and hurled it.
Chapter 34