“Mr. Lan·Kaosi?” The two tugged at the man’s shoulders. “You were just saying you wanted to hear a story about Cheqing Island—we can walk and talk on the way.“

Recalling that his people had checked this very spot just minutes ago, the faint suspicion rising in Lan Kaosi’s heart subsided.

“Hmph, forget it. Hearing about someone puking killed my mood for the loo. You two go ahead.“

All three of them turned and walked away.

……

Yang Zicang, who had been meandering in this direction, saw the soldier stepping out.

In a haltingly awkward Mistfolk Language, he said to Yang Zicang, “Let’s go, you young immortal from the Mist Realm. Someone threw up in there. Head to the john on the other side.“

“Ah… thank you, sir. That sick person might be my friend—I’ll go check on him.“

Lan Kaosi’s expression stiffened.

A jolt of electric surprise seemed to zap through the soldier’s mind, like something numbing and sudden.

He watched the Mistfolk youth in local garb sidestep past him and make for the restroom, then slowly came to a halt.

If there’s one thing people across this turbulent continent still unanimously agree on after decades of chaos, it’s this: keep your distance from Fogfolk.

Because that group of people, who have no country of their own and no inclination of loyalty, will appear in all sorts of unexpected places, and they always cause big trouble.

In the early days when Fogfolk first appeared nearly a hundred years ago, some locals casually mentioned their personal troubles to a Fogfolk. Before long, they were pleasantly surprised to find that their problems had been solved by these overly enthusiastic fellows, and they hardly needed to offer any reward in return.

It was as if… they were simply kind-hearted, born do-gooders, full of goodwill. Helping others was a brand etched into their very blood.

During that period, people from various nations on the continent were quite fond of these newcomers from the sea. Some even leased them land to settle on. Many enjoyed having Fogfolk as friends, and some families, even entire nations, liked to recruit the homeless Fogfolk to serve as their retainers.

Just by offering these people ordinary wages, you could gain the loyalty of retainers comparable to the legendary “witches ” or “demon warriors. ” What’s more, they would spare no effort in actively undertaking tasks that seemed utterly outlandish—truly, rare and perfect subordinates.

But soon, people began to notice something was wrong.

They started to realize that these Fogfolk had friends, but no “friendship “; they could be recruited, but they would not “pledge fealty. “

While they solved your troubles, they were also, at the same time, fixing your rival’s problems!

While developing new ventures for your family, they also silently record the negligence of their own families in their hearts. One day, when a competitor driven to desperation by their own family’s development laments on the street, a Fogfolk will appear beside them and softly say, “Hey, is there something troubling you? “

Their only joy lies in solving problems and causing trouble! To the extent that if you casually complain about something, or even excitedly share some bizarre legend, congratulations—soon enough, you’ll find that the things you’ve spoken of have been twisted beyond recognition.

“He… ” Lan Kaosi caught a glimpse of the young man stepping onto the wooden staircase.

From resolving family disputes to eradicating ancient clans, even overthrowing regimes—Fogfolk will handle every matter they encounter.

Should someone fail…

How wonderful that would be! It would attract more Fogfolk to swarm in one after another…

“As long as there is an anomaly, it can attract Fogfolk… “

Lan Kaosi turned around, his gaze following Yang Zicang’s forward figure. That guy was heading toward the corner where a wooden sign reading “Out of Service ” stood.

“Ah, that Fogfolk… ” The two who had already walked a few paces paled slightly. “Sir, please wait, you can’t go over there. “

Yang Zicang ignored them completely and started running.

Because he saw that dark-skinned man holding cleaning tools, his hand reaching under his shirt at the small of his back where a bulging object rested, as he walked into the restroom.

……

“These cans? “

He Yishu touched the items in the black pocket, wiped one with paper, and sniffed it. At that moment, the man’s ear twitched, and he swiftly slipped out of the cubicle cluttered with empty glycerin bottles, retreating into the last unoccupied stall.

No sooner had he entered than footsteps echoed from the restroom entrance.

A rough, low voice pushed open the first two half-closed doors: “Anyone here? “

Creak~

The wooden door groaned as it opened and closed.

The man with the mop systematically pushed open each cubicle door. When he glimpsed the open bag before him, he frowned slightly. One room left. His head turned toward it, his hand reaching behind his back.

“Cleaning service, sir. “

He pushed against the fourth cubicle door. It wouldn’t budge.

At that moment, He Yishu pressed himself tight against the back of the door. The halo on his chest glowed faintly, the triangle inside slowly rotating.

The cleaner outside touched his waist, pulling from the leather sheath a dark red dagger with a blood groove. Strange, twisted patterns ran across it, like mutated magical engravings, linked to a dark, dull rhomboid gemstone on the handle.

“Who’s in there? “

The low, threatening voice made He Yishu’s heart hang by a thread.

He was beginning to ignite his body with the temporal vacuity flames when a voice sounded at the doorway.

“My friend‘s in there! “

The janitor’s eyes darkened as he turned his head toward the door. Another Fogfolk!

YangZicang at the doorway, slightly out of breath, said:

“Ah, sir, I heard someone threw up in here, and I think it must be my friend. Uh… well… here… “

The bathroom was brightly lit.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh! A loud flush echoed from within the stall as He Yishu retched twice and then called out:

“I was just… the smell in here got to me and made me feel a bit sick—maybe… somebody just took the wrong end of the stick and thought I’d thrown up… Haven’t had seafood in ages—might be having an allergic reaction. “

What an astonishingly flimsy excuse—someone raised by the seaside claiming a seafood allergy.

He Yishu wiped his mouth and pulled open the stall door.

The janitor outside wore a forced smile as he looked in. “It’s all good, sir. I need to clean now, so you two should be leaving. “

Pretending to listen hard, He Yishu then gave an apologetic nod. “Alright, I’ll be out right now. “

Striding almost naturally to the end of the row, he stood before the sink, feigning a quick fix of his hair as he studied the reflection behind him in the mirror.

The reflection showed himself gazing back with furrowed brows, jet-black pupils striking unnaturally against the dim, amber lights. Yang Buchen stood at the entrance, not entirely inside—but from his spot, he clearly had a view of the exterior. And he quietly pressed against the door, sealing off the bathroom inside-out, exerting a silent but unmistakable domination over the confined space.

Thus the stance stood: Yang Buchen and himself had already converged to trap the janitor from both sides.

Realizing this, the cleaning worker showed no abnormality. He simply picked up his mop and entered the stall to start cleaning the floor, as if he really was there just to do his job.

Burying his head to wash his face, He Yishu’s hand paused briefly. Shaking off the water stains, he reached a hand to touch the back side of the faucet. A clear stream of water flowed out from its “pipe, ” hinting at a faint smear of red on his fingertips.

The man’s gaze lifted. Above, at the vent in the wall, the cover had signs of being pried upward, its side appearing slightly tilted forward, as though a heavy object had been placed there.

He Yishu’s heart tightened. A strand of seemingly misplaced glee surfaced, followed by the guilt born of that very delight.

He stared at the bloodstain on his finger.

With things pressing, cleaning away the blood, had he just overlooked the spot behind the faucet?

“Let’s go. ” Under the watchful gaze of the cleaner, He Yishu exited the restroom.

The two men were startled to find the major’s officer still standing right outside.

“Gentlemen. “

Yang Zicang smiled at him. “My friend here has been on the ship for some time. Eating such good food all of a sudden gave him a bit of an upset stomach. Had a rather embarrassing moment. “

“Glad it’s nothing serious. ” Lan Kaosi gave them a nod, then stepped aside to observe their surroundings.

“It seems everyone here knows a little of our language,” He Yishu said, lifting his finger as he walked.

“Ah… is that so? ” An unwarranted fluster flickered in Yang Zicang’s heart.

The light at the entrance of the banquet hall grew brighter, and He Yishu raised his hand, revealing the bloodstains, as they approached this spot.

“Still fresh. ” He tried to maintain a calm expression, as there were quite a few people around. “Unfortunately, there was someone in the bathroom, or I would have had more time to investigate the situation there. But I’ve already gained some insight now. “

The two strolled over to a palm tree as casually as anyone else chatting outside the banquet hall.

“What did you find out? “

“I picked up the bitter almond smell of cyanide. “

“Cyanide… “

It was clear that Yang Zicang wasn’t very familiar with the term, but the wealthy young man before him was no idle good-for-nothing. He spoke softly:

“Cyanide is one of the fastest-acting poisons we know of. Back home, in the middle of the last century, it was a staple in many assassinations during the Cold War. “

“The Cold War? ” Yang Zicang immediately thought of that treacherous era he had heard about from various sources.

“Actually, it existed long before that. It’s like a specter haunting politicians, celebrities, and scientists. For example, the assassins who tried to kill Adolf in ’44 carried cyanide with them to end their lives quickly if their plan was exposed. “

He Yishu sighed softly as he remarked:

“And from what I know, there was also Mr. Turing. He died after eating an apple laced with cyanide. There were many more like him. “

The mention of that last name left Yang Zicang feeling a pang of regret.