Chapter Twenty-Seven: We Are All Girls!

“Looks like the target is clear. Shall we head over immediately?” Zheng asked.

Although the general outline of the situation was understood now, Lin De’s whereabouts remained unknown. Clearly, the only lead was the casino.

“No,” Lin Yilin, who had been brimming with confidence just moments ago while gathering her thoughts, suddenly reverted to a more ordinary, shy demeanor. “It’s late, and it’s about to close. I have a rule not to work overtime unless absolutely necessary.”

Zheng raised an eyebrow. “Master, what kind of job do you have that even has closing hours?”

“The location of the casino isn’t fixed. I still need to narrow it down a bit. Besides, I’m not some superhuman. Mr. Illusion, don’t you know that every time you possess me, even though my body fully recovers thanks to your regenerative abilities, I’m left with severe mental exhaustion?”

“Ah? That actually happens?”

Zheng had only been possessed three times so far—one host was already dead, another was the somewhat unstable Lin Yilin, and the third was the equally unstable Jiang Si.

“I didn’t know either until now,” Lin Yilin said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “At first, I didn’t pay much attention. Maybe it’s the toll of illusions invading reality. Even if you, Mr. Illusion, have no intention of erasing my consciousness directly, frequent possession in a short period might gradually wear away my existence.”

Despite her words, she showed no sign of worry at all.

“I’m starting to feel like I’m a dangerous entity.”

“You always have been.”

“Then are you helping a dangerous thing grow even stronger?”

“Perhaps. Anyway, I should be going. See you tomorrow, Mr. Illusion.” Lin Yilin adjusted her clothes casually and waved to Zheng as she headed for the door.

The door closed softly, and the office fell silent once more.

After playing with Toast for a while, Zheng watched as dusk faded into the distance, and as night approached, he quietly left the office.

Evenings were Zheng’s personal time.

…

In the gated community, the night plaza was bustling with life.

Every night, a large crowd gathered here for post-dinner strolls or nighttime entertainment.

Interestingly, this area seemed free of the popular plaza dance culture; otherwise, such a prime space might have been partly claimed by dancing groups.

Besides the ordinary citizens, numerous vendors lined the plaza, forming a continuous tapestry of stalls.

Gang members roamed the plaza, taking advantage of the noisy, crowded atmosphere to relax or conduct under-the-table dealings.

A branch of the underground black market was also hidden within this plaza.

…

The ordinary revelers never dared to offend the gang members, and the black market dealers blended seamlessly into this complex, intriguing tapestry of the night plaza.

But since this was a gray area of the city, influenced by gang culture, there were many restless youths with only loose ties to gangs.

Here, one could even spot the classic “Shamate” style—a nostalgic yet outdated fashion that no one truly missed.

A young woman with a ponytail, wearing a black baseball cap, a black hoodie, and flared jeans, weaved through the crowd.

She stopped at a stall selling cheap trinkets and casually tossed something wrapped in multiple layers of tissue paper onto the ground.

The tissue bundle fell to the pavement and unfolded slightly, revealing several bloodstained ears.

The vendor hastily reached down to gather the bundle, shooting the woman a reproachful glance.

Though everyone in this neighborhood knew each other’s background, why would she expose such a gruesome thing and scare the civilians, risking trouble?

“What do you want?” the vendor asked, but considering the woman’s abilities, he quickly suppressed his annoyance—after all, she had helped out in ways that were inconvenient for others.

“The usual,” the woman said, raising her cap slightly, her dark eyes unsettling under the streetlamp’s glare.

The vendor didn’t argue and retrieved an item from beneath his stall, handing it over.

The woman took it and immediately turned to leave.

No sooner had she taken a step than several people in the crowd exchanged glances and quietly began tailing her from the shadows.

A black bat with gray eyes hung upside down on a streetlamp, silently observing the lively night scene. After a moment, it spread its wings and chased after the woman as she gradually distanced herself from the crowd.

“You seem to be very skilled at living here,” a voice whispered near the woman’s ear.

Her body tensed instinctively but quickly relaxed as she felt a weight on her left shoulder. Glancing sideways, she saw the bat perched there, its gleaming gray eyes studying her.

“Is this the true form of the Demon Lord?” she asked. This was Jiang Si, who had first appeared in reality on May 30.

Zheng had initially been somewhat worried whether someone from the violent realm could truly live a normal life in this city. Even though Jiang Si claimed to have had multiple experiences, it was hard to believe—after all, the violent realm was excessively brutal.

“Why would you think that? This form is rather underwhelming,” Zheng replied.

“Really? I think it’s a bit better than before.” Jiang Si shrugged, causing Zheng to almost be thrown off balance.

Her feet gripped tightly onto the fabric of Jiang Si’s shoulders. “You’re daring, huh?”

“Just joking. Mr. Demon, is there something you want?” she asked.

“What else but to find you and see if there’s a chance to do some work that’s hard to manage during the day? By the way, I didn’t realize you were operating here too.”

Xixike Street was quite large in a broad sense, though in reality, it was just a neighborhood.

During the day, one might even run into Jiang Si just by turning a corner.

“The more chaotic the place, the easier it is for unknown people to thrive. This area has been surprisingly lively recently. It seems there are always plenty of gigs to pick up just by wandering around.”

“Gigs? Master, what exactly is your line of work?”

“What else but a killer? Ahem, here I’m more of a cleaner. Sounds cooler and more normal than ‘killer,’ doesn’t it?”

“That’s hardly more normal, and it’s not cool at all,” Zheng retorted.

Still, the meaning was clear—what else could a killer do besides kill?

A cleaner was a commonly used term in the city’s underground world.

Unlike an office that took on a variety of tasks, cleaners primarily handled assassination jobs. Unlike officially recognized agencies, this profession was purely underground and unacknowledged by authorities.

These individuals operated among gangs, profiting through violence. Some larger gangs even maintained their own squads of cleaners.

Elite cleaners were often viewed as the archetypal cool assassins or mercenaries.

But more often, low-tier cleaners were pawns tricked by gangs into becoming tools.

Much like Lin De and Wang Cheng.

Jiang Si’s choice of profession was understandable.

“What were you trading with that person just now?”

“Nothing specific. I trade based on my mood. That guy’s a minor player with some gang ties, just paying protection fees. He’s not even considered part of the outer circle. But he recently had a conflict with another stall owner who’s actually backed by a proper gang. Feeling his life was in danger, I took an interest in something he had.”

“So, you helped kill the rival stall owner?”

“Not at all. As a killer, if I want to grow strong, I have standards—I can’t just kill anyone!” Jiang Si’s pride surfaced as she straightened her chest.

“Ah, I see.” Zheng was momentarily at a loss for words. “So how did you handle it?”

“I took out the gang behind that stall owner. That was more interesting. Those ears in the bundle belong to the gang leader—big earlobes and a prominent mole, easy to recognize.”

“Hm…” Zheng mused silently.

Between the little zombie and the binary beauty, the young women of the city were truly vibrant, lovely, and full of youth.