013 In the darkness, a familiar scent

That silhouette was unusually slender—almost malnourished. One glance was enough to tell she’d starved herself thin for the sake of her figure, with no sign of any proper training. It was a simple, fragile thinness, lacking any real grace or taut beauty.

She wore a white dress, and though she clearly meant to keep a low profile, the pink lace at the hem was too conspicuous. It was this detail that allowed Mu Qingcheng to recognize her at once—she knew exactly who this person was.

“Ran Siya?”

But Mu Qingcheng looked completely different now. She had no fear of being recognized, so she followed boldly, her head held high. Even when she passed staff who eyed her with puzzlement, she simply smiled, unruffled and composed. After all, anyone who could enter this place was either wealthy or powerful—no one would dare to stop her.

Not long after, the unaware figure ahead opened a private room door and stepped inside. Mu Qingcheng waited a couple of seconds, then slipped into the neighboring suite. But scarcely had she entered when a thick, familiar scent of tobacco enveloped her—so distinctive, so rare, grown in a centuries-old European village and not something just anyone could obtain.

By coincidence, Mu Qingcheng was well acquainted with the proprietress there, who sent her a few shipments every year. The faintest trace was enough for her to recognize it instantly.

Her gaze swept quickly around the room. There was no glimmer of a burning cigarette anywhere. That meant either the room had just been used, or—

Or someone was still inside.

As the realization struck, her fingers tightened on the door handle. Mu Qingcheng pressed her back flat against the door, turning slightly, preparing to slip away as fast as she could.

But almost at the very same moment, she sensed a sudden rush of air—a fierce gust sweeping toward her. Instinctively, she ducked; a sharp blow struck the door where her head had been a second before.

Bang—

The door, just ajar, was slammed shut again.

At the same time, Mu Qingcheng stilled her breath, flattened herself against the wall, and tapped a steady rhythm against her ear with two fingers. Ye Zi, waiting outside, received the urgent signal.

“An ambush?”

The young man’s eyes widened. He restarted the car engine and, reaching into the glove compartment for a small pouch, readied himself for action.

Inside, Mu Qingcheng remained pressed against the wall. Fortunately, her adversary did not make another move, giving her precious seconds for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Within moments, a tall, powerfully built figure emerged before her.

It was too dark to make out his features, but for some reason, she found him strangely familiar.

Just as Mu Qingcheng puzzled over this, the man sprang forward, swiftly closing the distance. A large hand shot out toward her—not for her face, but aiming for her chest.

Scoundrel!

She cursed inwardly, quickly sidestepping and shooting her leg upward, striking his arm with a ruthless precision.

In that instant of conflict, both were startled by the encounter. She hadn’t expected anyone’s arm to be so solid, while he was equally surprised by her strength and skill.

In the darkness, they faced off in silence, their auras evenly matched. The man doubted any woman in the Imperial City could possess such ability. He had a suspect in mind, but clearly, it would be hard to prove.

Mu Qingcheng, however, was now certain—such formidable strength could only belong to the leader of Shadow.

Just then, a faint sound came from the next room. Mu Qingcheng’s heart raced; without hesitation, she launched into a new wave of attack.