Chapter 28: Ambush

The glow of the setting sun bathed the Qinghong Dock in Shanghai, where the silhouettes of workers bustled back and forth. Shouts and the roar of machinery mingled in the air, forming a chaotic yet powerful symphony. Sweat trickled down their foreheads, soaking their clothes, but they paid it no mind, focused only on loading the cargo onto the freighter piece by piece.

Meng Qing stood at the edge of the dock, carrying a birdcage, her gaze lingering on the coarse, uncouth dockworkers. Once again, she was overcome by a sense of despondency. She considered herself a person of exceptional talent, yet fate had seen fit to let her be born on this crude and barbaric land. Was it the heavens’ jealousy of the gifted?

Clearly, her true homeland lay across the vast ocean—only there could she fully unleash her talents.

Her expression remained somber.

At that moment, a worker strode over and spoke respectfully, “Miss Meng, the ship is loaded. We’re ready to depart.”

“Very well.”

Meng Qing replied coolly, lifting her birdcage as she walked toward a large, nondescript freighter. The deck was piled high with giant shipping containers, each like a mountain of steel.

Rather than entering the ship’s hold with the workers, Meng Qing headed straight for the stern. Outside container number nine, someone feigned mopping the floor but was in fact standing watch.

The container’s door was left slightly ajar. Meng Qing opened it and found the interior empty, nothing loaded within. The floor bore intricate, high-level script, and in the center, a man in black robes sat cross-legged. He wore a mask shaped like a ghost’s face, revealing only a pair of cold, indifferent eyes that made Meng Qing inexplicably uneasy.

Suppressing her discomfort, she leaned silently against the container wall and waited.

The Li family’s method of smuggling was simple in theory, yet difficult to replicate. First, they would hire a spiritualist skilled in spatial scripts to hide the cargo in an alternate space, then board a plane to Putian Airport in Xiaguo. Since the airport was equipped to detect spatial fluctuations, before the plane landed, the spiritualist would use advanced scripts to transfer the cargo from the plane into a shipping container on a freighter.

By this stage, the goods would almost certainly make it into Xiaguo.

Meng Qing felt a growing excitement at the thought that, should this mission succeed, she might be able to travel as a hero to that long-dreamed-of land.

Outside, the one pretending to mop suddenly called out, “The plane’s here. The time is 5:05 in the afternoon.”

Upon hearing this, the masked man slammed his hands onto the container floor, spiritual force surging like a tide into the script.

A dim light suddenly flared. The space warped, as if kneaded by an invisible hand. With a thud, an iron chest marked with sealing runes materialized out of thin air and landed squarely inside the container.

A trace of undisguisable joy appeared on Meng Qing’s face, victory seemingly within reach. Yet before her smile could fully bloom, the green-feathered bird in the cage sensed a violent surge of spiritual power all around.

Its pupils contracted sharply. Its voice became shrill and urgent: “Not good, we’ve been discovered! Hurry, open the chest!”

No sooner had the words left its beak than the green-feathered bird abandoned all pretense, spreading its wings with explosive power that shattered the cage in an instant.

The bird’s body swelled rapidly as it burst free, its wings like twin blades, slicing straight toward Meng Qing. The thrill still lingered on her cheeks, but her body was torn apart, blood spraying in all directions.

The container was instantly blown apart, fragments scattering. The bird soared skyward, its wings unfurling like a curtain, blotting out the sun.

At that moment, the sea churned violently. A massive wave surged up, flipping the sixteen-meter-draft freighter onto its side.

Dense, transparent chains shot out from the void on the right, slithering like spirit serpents through the deck, locking onto every ordinary person in the hold with unerring accuracy. The chains contracted, swiftly hauling the stunned and terrified crew out of the ship, sparing them from the sea.

No matter the circumstances, the Embroidered Guards always did their utmost to protect civilian lives. Failing to save them, or not even intending to, was the difference between official and private action.

No sooner had the green-feathered bird taken to the air than three enormous fireballs hurtled toward it, the searing heat seeming to ignite the very air.

The coordination among the Embroidered Guards was flawless. Waves of suppression and attack left the bird no space to breathe.

With a powerful sweep of its wings, the bird launched countless blades of wind from beneath its feathers, shredding the three fireballs to pieces.

The fireballs exploded in midair, scattering sparks across the sea.

But before the bird could catch its breath, a dazzling flash of sword light appeared in its vision. Faster than lightning, the bird had no time to react; a sword stroke had already slashed its abdomen.

There was a muffled hiss as the blade bit into flesh.

Tang Zicong’s figure flashed past, his feet finding solid purchase in the air.

He turned his head slightly, glancing at the wound on the bird’s belly, his brows drawing together. The cut was shallow, far from fatal.

Just then, four towering columns of water rose around the capsized freighter, merging to form a vast curtain that enveloped the entire area.

Beyond the water curtain, ripples spread across the void, and a freighter shed its disguise, appearing on the surface.

Bai Yujing stood at the bow, the sea breeze fluttering his robes. Behind him, three women in feathered garments stood unmoving, like fairies from a mural, watching the battle unfold.

None of them moved to intervene; they would only act if the third unit lost control of the situation. After all, the third unit’s budget wasn’t generous enough for reckless expenditures.

Tia watched the fight ahead, folding her arms beneath her chest so the black of her bra showed through the white of her T-shirt. “We waited so long for such a brief fight. This is hardly a profitable job.”

Bai Yujing didn’t look back, his gaze fixed on the sea. “Do you think the Embroidered Guards have this in the bag?”

Tia’s cheeks flushed with curiosity. She knew that if nothing were amiss, Bai Yujing wouldn’t ask such a question, though it was possible he was simply being enigmatic.

After some thought, Tia gave her assessment. “That great demon is being held up by Tang Zicong, with Embroidered Guards assisting. He’ll be dealt with soon enough. The masked fellow is tangled up with the deputy leader, and there’s only a sixth-level spiritual pressure left under the sea—no one else poses a threat.”

The civilians ensnared by the chains were tossed onto the deck. Some landed hard enough to bruise their backsides, but none dared to complain. One look at the flying-fish uniforms of the Embroidered Guards made clear exactly what was happening.

It was obvious—the business of catching spies had leapt straight from online rumors to personal experience.

Bai Yujing offered no answer, still watching the sea. Compared to the battles above, what interested him more was the cargo inside the chest. Its aura was strange—somewhat reminiscent of a demon.

Someone was swimming toward the chest.

Bai Yujing made no move to stop them, curious to see what would happen when the chest was opened.

Meanwhile, Qi Xiang, who had also dived into the water, realized the enemy was swifter below the surface. Helplessly, he watched as the other swimmer reached the iron chest first.