"Today's haul should be enough… at least I won't have to work again for a week."
Rope returned to her shabby excuse of a home—
A crumbling ruin in the heart of the slums, a place abandoned by Lungmen, this glittering city of commerce.
Under Wei Yenwu's rule, Lungmen had flourished at breakneck speed.
But rapid growth always comes with a price.
And among the sacrifices, the Infected were always the first to be discarded.
Since the very birth of law itself in this world of Terra, the Infected had been branded—persecuted, exploited, and cast aside.
"Let's see how many Lungmen Dollars I managed to snatch today… sigh, I almost miss the food back in prison. If only they didn't make me sit through those brain-melting lectures every time I got sent in…"
Muttering under her breath, Rope rummaged through her pockets.
"Strange… only one wallet?"
Her brow furrowed with irritation. She was sure she'd taken at least ten today—so why was only one left?
'Forget it. Let's see what's inside this one first.'
Adjusting her mood, she flipped the wallet open. Life rarely went her way anyway.
Especially for someone like her—an Infected with no money and no power.
But the moment she looked inside, her composure cracked.
There wasn't a single money.
Just a slip of white paper.
On it, the same sentence repeated in several languages.
From them, Rope could only make out two—the one written in Rim Billitonian, and the one in Yanese.
Rim Billitonian—the tongue her parents had taught her in tears, just before they abandoned her.
And Yanese—the language she had clawed together herself, scraping through Lungmen's underbelly.
"Thank you. I'll shamelessly accept the fruits of your labor."
"…That bastard!"
Her anger flared. She tore the paper to shreds and hurled the wallet to the floor.
But after a pause, she picked it up again.
"At least the leather's pretty high grade. Should fetch a decent price."
She muttered as she inspected it, unaware of what now coiled unseen.
A Black Snake, winding itself around her neck, staring into her very being.
---
'Just an ordinary thief?'
'How dull. From her little tricks I thought she might've been trained by some syndicate.'
'Tch, Lungmen gangster flicks really are worthless.'
'I was hoping Zhu Jiuyin would bump into a so-called benefactor…'
'Looks like I'll have to get my own hands dirty if I want results.'
'That brat Dusk keeps pestering me about Lungmen's art galleries…'
'Damn it, isn't the museum back in my own duchy good enough? Don't tell me my creations aren't worthy?'
Of course, the Duchy of Kashchey housed works from other schools of art as well.
But given that Duke Kashchey himself was the darling of his land, his own pieces inevitably commanded center stage.
---
"My good sir, your forehead is shrouded in dark clouds. If you don't take care, bloodshed will surely befall you soon!"
On a Lungmen street corner, Zhu Jiuyin sat behind his little fortune-teller's stall, fake beard hanging crooked, gripping the arm of a passing salaryman with alarming certainty.
"Apologies, I've got a meeting to attend. No time to humor the ramblings of a street charlatan."
The man tugged impatiently, trying to pull free—only to find this Lung's grip unnaturally strong.
"Just a moment, destined one. Haven't you felt drained these past few days? Weaker than usual? And… lacking drive in your nightly activities?"
"…Cut the cheap tricks. I've simply been overworked lately. Once this busy stretch ends, I'll be fine."
For a moment, the salaryman was taken aback by Zhu Jiuyin's words.
But quickly, suspicion gave way to irritation—he knew better than to fall for this nonsense.
"This isn't just overwork—it's a malevolent spirit! A terrifying evil force is draining away your vitality!"
Zhu Jiuyin released the man's wrist, stroked his fake beard, and straightened his posture with an air of sage-like gravitas.
"If you can't even spare the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, then I won't force fate upon us."
The salaryman hesitated.
After all, his stamina really had been declining lately. Even in his nights with his wife, he had found himself lacking strength.
While he wavered, Zhu Jiuyin pressed his palms together, adopting a mysterious air, and slowly pushed one hand toward the man as if striking with an invisible force.
In that instant, the salaryman felt something unseen crushing against him—then suddenly, relief, as though a heavy weight had been lifted.
"T-this…"
The man's expression flickered with doubt and awe.
"The evil spirit clinging to you has been temporarily repelled," Zhu Jiuyin said with regretful solemnity. "Alas, my cultivation is shallow. If my master, the illustrious True Lord of the Wondrous Brush, were here, she could have banished it entirely."
"Master—please save me!" the man blurted desperately.
---
"Not bad, not bad. That corporate drone knows how to show respect after all."
Zhu Jiuyin weighed the stack of LMD in his hand with satisfaction.
"Oh—no, not a drone. He's actually a manager," he corrected himself with a chuckle.
Beside him, Dusk walked along, unimpressed.
"Why do you always dress up acupuncture and massage as ghostly nonsense? Wouldn't it be simpler just to call yourself a traveling physician?"
"And another thing—who exactly is this 'True Lord of the Wondrous Brush'? I swear the name rings a bell… but I don't recall ever taking you as a disciple."
"Come now," Zhu Jiuyin said with a smirk. "When wandering the world, one needs a grand title. Even if no one knows it, it must sound impressive. Besides—ghosts and spirits aren't lies. Desire itself is a phantom bound to us. We can drive it away, but never destroy it completely… Why bother hiding who we are?"
"No need," Dusk replied flatly. "Sui Regulator isn't nearly as controlling as you seem to think."
"Oh? Then would they allow you to befriend someone like me?"
"…Forget Sui Regulator. My brothers and sisters themselves would be the first to object."
"…Am I really that bad?"
"What do you think?"
---
"Hehehe~ Who would've thought? If our brothers and sisters found out that little Eleven—the one who never leaves the house and always shuts herself away—actually made a close male friend…"
From the rooftop of a tall building, Nian peeked through her telescope, spying on the two below.
Suddenly, a hulking azure beast, shaped like jagged mountains, lumbered up from the stairwell behind her. It let out a low, guttural growl.
"Oh my, oh my~ Little Eleven's getting shy?"
Nian sighed and dropped the telescope.
"Alright, alright, I won't disturb your master. I'll take my leave."
She leapt gracefully off the rooftop, vanishing from Free's sight.
For a brief moment, chaos rippled through the area—but soon, calm returned.
After all, Lungmen was never a peaceful city.
"I've no interest in fighting you," Nian muttered to herself midair. "If we brawl here, this city I've grown quite fond of would be left in ruins. Worse yet, it might attract unwanted eyes."
'Still… that lung by little Eleven's side—something about him feels… off.'