Arabella, escorted by Priscilla, wreaked havoc at the bustling market.
Nearly every stall was ravaged by the two of them, especially the one selling guns. The stall owner was left confused for a long time, still unable to figure out what kind of disaster had just occurred.
He couldn't make sense of it. How could that smiling girl possibly manage to hit a constantly shifting and slightly misaligned target with a gun whose sights had been deliberately tampered with? And she didn't even look at the weapon—she simply raised her hand and shot, hitting the mark every single time. He began to suspect that the tricks he had pulled had somehow backfired.
Everywhere they went, it was nearly a disaster. Fortunately, it was only nearly. The girl shot his stall into a hole, but when leaving, she only took a small, inconspicuous smiling doll, which the tall and beautiful woman had forcefully shoved into her hands. He stared at the girl's smiling back for a long time, eventually feeling a chill creep down his spine.
The doll's smile never changed because it was an inanimate object; whatever it was made to look like, that's how it stayed. But people are living beings, and the girl's smile was identical to the doll's. Upon further thought, the stall owner shuddered with a sense of dread creeping down his back.
Emerging from the bustling market, Priscilla held several food skewers in her hand, while Arabella had a smiling doll in her left hand and a string of sugar cakes in her right. At first glance, they seemed like two ordinary young girls. After leaving the market, they entered the famous party place, a place naturally segregated by the crowd, where young men and women gather to court each other.
A key part of the Moni Festival every year is here. Here, men sing loud songs and dance lively dances to attract the women they fancy. If, during the festival, a single man and woman lock eyes, and the man invites the woman to a dance, and she agrees, it signifies mutual affection.
Arabella, with a piece of candy in her mouth, watched with interest as Priscilla politely rejected one suitor after another. In contrast to the dazzling beauty of Priscilla, Arabella—holding a cloth doll and with an unremarkable appearance—was completely overlooked by those around them.
After rejecting four or five suitors, a tall young man pushed through the crowd. He was handsome, with a well-proportioned figure and graceful manners, clearly from a good family. His appearance made Priscilla shy, her hands clasped in front of her chest, making her curves even more tempting. The arrival of this young man made Priscilla seem like a bashful maiden. Her hands instinctively pressed together over her chest, subtly accentuating her curves in a way that left others envious.
The young man began to dance, his moves crisp and graceful, every step in perfect rhythm, combining power and flexibility. His good looks also made the other girls around him blush. But his gaze was fixed solely on Priscilla, and at this moment, she no longer cared about being shy. Like a protective mother hen, she danced in circles around the young man, her chest swaying, her slender waist moving like a willow, her beauty drawing enthusiastic attention from the men around them. The young man, now acting like a peacock in full display, danced around his object of affection, practically shouting to all the other peacocks present that he had claimed her first.
Arabella watched with great interest, her sugar cake melting in her hand. She tried to throw it away, but it stuck to her fingers, and she spent quite some time cleaning it off. It was like love—sweet at first, but later it became something to be discarded and rejected. By the time she cleaned the sugar cake off her hands, Priscilla had already come over, holding the young man's hand.
"Master Unknown, I'd like to introduce you to someone. This is my lover." Priscilla's brows danced with delight, and in the presence of her lover, everything around her seemed perfect.
Arabella nodded, indicating that she understood. Priscilla made no attempt to hide anything, knowing that with Arabella's abilities, it was hardly surprising for her to be aware of such matters.
The three of them arrived at Priscilla's private residence not far away, where Arabella was regaled with a tragic and tear-jerking love story. The tale was so monotonous that it nearly put her to sleep, prompting her to take a swig from her glass to stay awake.
Priscilla's lover, Robert Ashford, was a young and talented national agent with a solid family background, but even with such qualifications, he couldn't measure up to Priscilla's standards. Her older brother, George, strongly opposed their relationship, leading to a fierce argument between the siblings and eventually severing their ties.
"Master Unknown, before you arrived, my brother even had Robert try to seduce you. He's simply despicable and shameless." Priscilla reported angrily, wishing she could destroy every shred of good image her brother had in Arabella's mind.
Upon hearing this, Arabella didn't immediately find fault with George. Before undertaking major tasks, one shouldn't be bound by rules; what mattered was having the ruthlessness to slay demons and clear obstacles. However—Arabella shifted her gaze, letting her eyes briefly scan across the face of Robert sitting opposite her, before she decided that Priscilla's expression didn't quite seem right either.
She had always been cold-hearted and ruthless. Yet, she still smiled faintly, without revealing any emotion: "Your brother cares about you. For something like this, you want to take away his power?"
Priscilla opened her mouth as if to say something, but her lover, Robert, suddenly interjected: "Master Unknown, actually, we don't want to take the general's power. We just want to borrow some external pressure to make him agree to our terms."
Priscilla glanced at her lover, stayed silent, and then nodded, assuring Arabella: "Master Unknown, I know you won't stay long. But if you help us this time, the entire Doma will become your ally in the future."
Finally, they had reached the critical point. After drinking the last of his glass, Arabella casually opened another bottle and drank half of it in one go. He met the stunned expressions of the two, then gestured with his hand: "Well then, tell me your plan. Also, how much power do you have that could possibly attract me?"
When the two heard the implication in Arabella's words, they were overjoyed, thinking that their plight had elicited his sympathy. They eagerly wrapped themselves around the hand Arabella had offered.
*
For several days, George had been very busy due to trouble at the border. In the joint border town, over three hundred men, women, and children were killed by a group of well-equipped armed militants, their bodies piled up like a mountain.
Since it was a no-man's land, by the time the border forces from Jingle and Doma arrived, the massacre had already taken place. It was assumed that the town had been engaged in constant robbery and theft, but this time, they had likely run into a tough opponent and were completely wiped out. But who could this tough opponent be? This was the real reason both countries were on high alert.
After days of fruitless investigation, George was furious over his country's failed intelligence system. He angrily berated the intelligence minister, who fled in disgrace. Eventually, someone suggested they seek help from the international intelligence organization, Night Owl. George had heard of Night Owl's name, but as the head of a nation's intelligence system, it was a blow to his pride to have to rely on a dark organization. Fortunately, Night Owl was mysterious, rule-abiding, and although their prices were high, they were worth it.
After his subordinates made contact with Night Owl, within a day, Night Owl had sent over the detailed intelligence in exchange for payment.
George stared at the garbled, self-destructive data, his brow furrowing in frustration. His hands clenched into fists, and he felt like smashing the screen in front of him, but after a moment of restraint, he managed to hold back.
It was that AE again, a drug lord who dared to act so arrogantly. Not long ago, they even sent someone to propose a trade. He, a national leader, how could he possibly engage in transactions with such lowly scum? Without a second thought, he waved his hand and ordered his subordinates to reply with two words: "Get lost."
Was the attack on the town a form of revenge against him? But the town wasn't technically within his country's borders, and Night Owl's intelligence indicated that AE had disguised himself and crossed the river with his subordinates into Jingle. It didn't seem to have anything to do with him at all.
He slowly unclenched his fist, thinking about the grudges between AE and Arabella. Could it be that AE came for Arabella? But why would anyone go to Jingle?
Wasn't Night Owl's intelligence reliable?
He immediately dismissed this thought. Night Owl was well-known for its highly accurate intelligence, and there was no reason for it to fail on something like this.
While George was left puzzled, Julius was indeed in the second-largest city of Jingle. After discussed the matter with Nicholas, the two went their separate ways. Nicholas went alone to Doma to find Arabella, while Julius, disguised as a merchant, took his subordinates to Jingle.
Though he intended to make peace with Arabella, his approach was different from others. At that moment, he was holding a sniper rifle, using a high-powered scope to move and observe his target—Bramwell.
Nicholas's Night Owl intelligence network was a double-edged sword. When used for his benefit, it could be a powerful tool. For instance, every move Bramwell made after being sent to Jingle by Arabella was carefully tracked.
He didn't intend to kill Bramwell, though he was itching to send the man to the underworld with a single shot. But since he was making peace with Arabella, killing wasn't an option—he could only find another way to take action. Through the scope, Bramwell was standing behind a sign, partially obscured. The obstruction made the shot more difficult, but for Julius, it was just a minor challenge. His eyes were lazy and carefree, a nearly imperceptible smile curling at the corners of his mouth. In his mind, he calculated the angle of the glass sign, lined up the scope on the center, and lightly squeezed the trigger.
After the gunshot, screams echoed from the street corner. Julius lowered his rifle and tossed it to a subordinate standing nearby. Bored, he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands, daydreaming under the bright daylight.
He fantasized about overpowering Arabella, pressing her delicate skin beneath him, leaving red marks on her body, listening to her faint moans, making her climax, sweat and fluids mixing together, turning the bed into a muddy battlefield as if they'd fought hundreds of rounds.
After thinking it through, he helplessly rubbed his stiff cock, sighed silently, and thought that Arabella should be coming soon.
