Chapter Eight: The Enchantress

Ling Song could see the worry in Elder Han’s eyes. He had been by the old man’s side for so long, yet had never seen him so anxious.

“How strong is this ‘Xingtian’? I’ve only heard that the ‘Enchantress’ is terrifyingly powerful!” Ling Song’s tone was grave.

“‘Xingtian’ is a codename. He’s the most mysterious person in our country—nobody knows his details. We don’t even know which side he belongs to, if he’s good or evil, righteous or wicked.”

“How could there be someone like that? Even the National Bureau can’t find anything on him?” Ling Song asked, puzzled. In his mind, there was nothing the Bureau couldn’t do.

Elder Han shook his head gently.

“We can’t say for certain how strong ‘Xingtian’ is, but judging by his recent battle with the ‘Enchantress,’ he’s incredibly powerful!”

“The Enchantress was defeated?”

“What’s the main force of the Bureau?” Elder Han didn’t answer directly.

“The Bureau is the nation’s underground force. Its core is the Four Divine Beasts and the Twelve Guardians, especially the Four Divine Beasts—Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise—who represent the Bureau’s highest strength.” Ling Song clearly knew a fair bit about the Bureau.

“The Four Divine Beasts were newly appointed and eager to make their mark. They tried to capture the top assassin, the ‘Enchantress,’ to bolster the Bureau’s prestige. The Enchantress faced all four alone and, in the end, severed the arm of the most defensive one, Black Tortoise!”

Ling Song was so shocked his mouth hung open. “The Enchantress is that strong? No wonder Black Tortoise is called the One-Armed Turtle! So it was the Enchantress who cut off his arm! Why doesn’t anyone on the outside know about this?”

“The Bureau kept it secret to save face. And the Enchantress herself is very low-key, so almost nobody outside knows the real reason for Black Tortoise’s lost arm. For them, such a defeat was a huge humiliation, but after that battle, none of the Four dared to mention the Enchantress again.”

Ling Song drew a sharp breath.

“How could the state tolerate such a powerful assassin?” Ling Song wondered. If there was a killer stronger than the Bureau’s best, what if she caused chaos—wouldn’t no one be able to stop her?

“I know your concern—you think the Bureau is all the state has. The Enchantress may be an assassin, but all those she killed deserved to die. She’s saved the country a lot of trouble, eliminating people the state itself couldn’t easily touch.”

“So that’s how it is!”

“Besides her terrifying strength, the Enchantress is also renowned for her stunning beauty,” Elder Han said. Even at his age, with a heart long stilled, his eyes flickered slightly at the mention of her looks.

“So what was the outcome of Xingtian’s battle with the Enchantress?” This, finally, was Elder Han’s point. Ling Song’s breathing quickened.

“Both were seriously injured! But it seems the Enchantress was hurt worse. Rumor has it she may be crippled. No one witnessed the fight—this is just word from higher up.”

“If even the Enchantress is that formidable, and Xingtian is even stronger…” Ling Song felt a chill run down his spine. Such people existed in this world?

Then a thought struck him. “Elder Han, there’s a saying: the enemy of my enemy is my friend. If the Enchantress is our enemy, could Xingtian be our friend?”

Elder Han shook his head. “The Enchantress is an assassin, but not necessarily our enemy. And that saying depends on one’s standpoint. Xingtian hides himself so well—he must be extraordinary. All we can do is sharpen our swords. That’s why I’m so anxious to strengthen our forces.”

“I see. That’s why you want me to test out that Ye Feng. But he’s not even twenty—can he really stand up to the likes of Xingtian and the Enchantress?”

“He’s not yet twenty, yet might already be stronger than you—isn’t that promising? I’m just desperate. I’m getting older and have few capable people left.”

“Elder Han!” Ling Song could read the helplessness that age had left on the old man’s face.

“Go do your job.”

...

At her computer, Xia Ling gazed quietly at her stock balance.

“From ten thousand to twelve million. Twelve hundred times over.”

...

“Ye Feng, male, nineteen years old.”

“Acceptance letter from HB University’s School of Economics?” Xia Ling frowned. “Is the world really this small?”

...

“Ling’er, I’m home!” Ye Feng called as he opened the door.

Once inside, he saw one of his jackets airing on the balcony. “I don’t remember washing that.”

Xia Ling wasn’t in the living room, and the master bedroom door was closed.

Ye Feng pushed it open and was stunned. The room was spotless—his dirty socks and crumpled papers were gone. There was a faint fragrance in the air, and Ling’er sat on the bed under the covers. Even his bedding had a fresh cover.

“Wow, Ling’er, did you clean up for me? It’s so tidy!” Ye Feng was thrilled—his efforts to save her hadn’t been in vain.

“This room is mine from now on. You’ll sleep in the guest room. Don’t come in without my permission.” Xia Ling said coolly.

“What?” Ye Feng’s gratitude vanished—he’d read it all wrong.

When he bought the apartment, it was quite decent: two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, and bathroom, with two balconies—one off the master, one off the living room. South-facing, sunlight streaming in during the day. The guest room, however, had no balcony and faced north—he didn’t want to move there.

“I don’t agree!” Ye Feng protested.

“I’ve already moved your things to the guest room. And those disgusting comic books—I burned them!” Xia Ling shot him a glare.

“Thrown? Burned? Disgusting? Those were masterpieces exploring the wonders of nature—my treasures! You burned them just because you don’t appreciate art? You owe me!”

“Such filthy things deserved to be burned!”

“Can’t we compromise? I get the master bedroom on odd days, you on even. How’s that for fairness?”

“Even? Impossible! Did you buy the things I asked for?”

Ye Feng thought of how he’d gone out of his way to buy supplies for her, even got beaten up, and now lost the master bedroom. He tossed the shopping bag on the bed.

Xia Ling rummaged through it, her cheeks slowly flushing.

“You bought everything!”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t have what you needed.”

“You seem to know a lot about women?” Xia Ling noticed he’d bought every size. Truthfully, he’d been afraid of picking the wrong kind—since it was early in her cycle and the bleeding was heavy, a single small pad wouldn’t do at all.

“Not really. The shop assistant gave me advice.” Of course, Han Shanshan had been the one to help him—he couldn’t say that, or mention she’d bought the same underwear as Xia Ling.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I was covered in blood?” Ye Feng was still smeared with blood from his beating by Chen Da.

“Not interested.”

“What a cold-hearted person! By the way, did you wash my clothes?” Ye Feng thought of the jacket on the balcony.

Xia Ling blushed even more. Earlier, she’d had nothing to change into, so she’d used his clothes to hide the bloodstains. Embarrassed, she said, “I took your room, so I washed you some clothes to even things out.”

“That’s hardly even! Why’s your face so red? Are you not feeling well?”

“No. Now get out—I need to rest!”

“When you’re on your period, don’t do laundry.” Ye Feng remembered something he’d read online—women shouldn’t touch cold water during their cycle.

He closed the door, grabbed some clothes, and headed to shower. Entering the guest room, he was stunned.

A furious shout echoed through the apartment. “Xia Ling, would it kill you to help me clean up a bit?”

The guest room was crammed with junk—all the stuff cleared out of the master bedroom. There was barely space to stand.

Xia Ling didn’t respond. She was busy looking at the little underwear Ye Feng had bought. “So cute! My first time wearing something a man bought for me. Once my wounds heal and I get the Qingfeng Manual, I’ll kill him.” A cold gleam flashed in her eyes.

Suddenly, a powerful energy swept past the apartment. Xia Ling stared out the window.

Ye Feng darted out the window as well.

“Brother Ling Song, what brings you here so late?” Ye Feng eyed the fully-armed Ling Song with suspicion. If he was here to thank him, it wouldn’t be in the middle of the night; the killing intent on his face didn’t look grateful at all.

Without a word, Ling Song swung a punch at Ye Feng’s head.

“Trying to silence me?” Ye Feng dodged swiftly—Ling Song’s attack wasn’t hard to evade. Just a moment ago he’d been so polite, and now he was trying to kill him.

“Could it be I offended Han Shanshan with my jokes, and he likes her? Men fighting over women is nothing new. But it was Han Shanshan who teased me first—I’m the victim here,” Ye Feng thought, feeling wronged.

Ling Song ignored him. Seeing his attack dodged, he spun around, landing a roundhouse kick.

Both his fists and kicks were far stronger than Han Shanshan’s. Ye Feng blocked with one hand, shifted his feet, and caught the kick.

“Brother Ling Song, if you don’t stop, I won’t hold back,” Ye Feng’s eyes flashed coldly.

“Show me your full strength!” Ling Song was startled—his kick had used sixty or seventy percent of his power, yet Ye Feng caught it with ease.

“So you want a real fight? Ten percent is enough for you,” Ye Feng said, vanishing from sight. He reappeared behind Ling Song, his right hand locked around Ling Song’s throat. A little pressure, and he could snap his neck.

“Want to keep fighting?” Ye Feng asked coldly, his head lowered.

“Haha… No more! You’re strong indeed! Interested in joining our special forces?” Ling Song’s aura immediately faded, and he became an ordinary man again.

“You woke me up in the middle of the night for this?” Ye Feng was clearly annoyed.

“Yes, we need talents like you!” Ling Song’s eyes blazed. Joining the special forces was a great honor—he’d gone through hell to get in himself. Now he was offering Ye Feng a direct invitation, certain he wouldn’t refuse.

“Not interested. If that’s all, I’m going to sleep.” Ye Feng turned to go.

Ling Song hadn’t expected such a blunt rejection.

“Think it over. We can offer you many benefits, privileges! When you change your mind, contact me!” He flicked a business card to Ye Feng, who caught it easily.

“You already gave me one.”

“This one’s different.”

“Good night.” Ye Feng waved him off.

“Thunder Beast! How does this guy have ties to the military? Judging by his strength, his Heart-Cleansing Manual must be at least at the sixth level.” On the balcony, Xia Ling watched all of this in silence.