Chapter Sixteen: Overtime

The cat-eared maid landlord was fuming. “I’ll never speak to Alice again!”
Zero Shiyu leaned against the doorframe, twirling the other’s phone in her hand.
“Come on, with your lively personality, if you didn’t start a conversation, you’d die of boredom.”
“Hmph.”
Cardesia closed her eyes in silence. The blue-haired woman feigned a casual recollection. “By the way, didn’t you say you were starting a club yesterday?”
The blonde girl snapped her fingers, leaping up from the sofa.
“I started an absolutely fascinating club—!”
But at that very instant, realizing what she’d just revealed, the girl shouted in dismay.
“Ahhhh, you tricked me!”
“My, my, what a foolish maid we have here.”
“Ack!”
Miss Shiyu grinned wickedly as she tossed the phone back to the landlord, who was now rolling about on the sofa.
She returned to her own room, shutting out the cheerful noise, and began to contemplate more serious matters.
It had been two weeks now, and yet the authorities in the Celestial City had made no move to contact her.
What on earth were the official experts doing?
What Zero Shiyu did not know was that the answer to this question was unexpectedly simple:
The experts were working overtime.
·
Unified Administrative Tower, Head District, 66th Floor.
While two freelance Lawblades discussed music and song, and a wanted Lawblade was frolicking with a university girl, the proper Lawblades had no time for such leisure. Though it was already late, the gentlemen of the Ritual Office were still hard at work in the office building. Fatigue was etched into their faces as they gulped down strong tea and coffee in an attempt to stay awake.
Normally, working until ten at night would be nothing unusual. But ever since that incident, they had maintained a pace far more intense than usual: dealing with the aftermath of the Dragon Calamity, conducting preliminary research on the Lapis Crystals, exchanging intelligence with agencies from other nations, investigating the entire affair, and thoroughly examining a suspicious detail that had only recently come to light under Liu Zhongwu’s comprehensive review… Even the most diplomatic imperial experts were visibly worn out by such relentless work.
By comparison, due to the interference of a certain dual-wielding swordsman and the many mysteries still shrouding the incident, Zero Shiyu—the instigator of it all—had become a lower priority. Everyone was busy: besides, courtesy demanded they show some respect to the Night Wanderer. She could wait; they’d get to her once they had a spare moment.
The end of a major incident is often the beginning of a mountain of work. Students cursed the elites for their aloofness; officials envied the children’s carefree ignorance. The long negotiations following the Lapis Disaster had just begun, and such important matters could hardly rely on the Mithril Pillar for support. And so, the gentlemen labored on through the night, the crisp clatter of keyboards and the soft rustle of paper turning, punctuated by low, murmured conversations, echoing through the conference room. They looked as though they would be at it until well past midnight…
Until Director Liu, seated at the very back, gulped down two mouthfuls of tea and set his large cup on the table with a thud. “That’s enough for today. Finish up what’s on your desk and get some rest. Starting tomorrow, we’ll resume our normal rotation. You’ve all worked hard these past few days!”
The members of the Ritual Office silently breathed a sigh of relief, but outwardly replied without missing a beat: “Director, you’ve worked the hardest!” “Thank you for your efforts, Director Liu!”
Liu Zhongwu heaved himself to his feet, patting his belly, and beckoned to his trusted aide. “Xiao Li, how’s that investigation coming along?”
The staffer addressed immediately stood up, his long, thin face accentuated by two prominent dark circles under his eyes.
“We tried a new method today, Director. Please, come with me…”
The two of them left the conference room, pushing open a door on the right side of the corridor.
Inside the room was a long table, and a display screen on the wall played several segments of surveillance footage: a blue-haired woman in hunting garb vanishing and reappearing among tall buildings, weaving through crowded streets, and battling a gray-haired youth outside an apartment block…
The protagonist of all these recordings was the same person: Alice Eidol, a hunter from the Kingdom—also known as Zero Shiyu, the one who had unleashed the Lapis Disaster.
These clips had come to light during Liu Zhongwu’s comprehensive review. The director had merely frowned and remarked, “Something’s wrong here,” while his subordinates were left to rack their brains over what exactly the problem was.
The people in the room were gathered around the long table, deep in discussion, but upon seeing the director, they quickly turned and saluted him.
Director Liu waved a hand. “What’s the progress today?”
One of them replied with a pained expression, “Director, today we first tried a new technique based on bone divination from the Far Sea Archipelago…”
“Oh, stop relying on Lawblade arts!” Liu Zhongwu cut him off, gesturing at the surveillance footage. “Even I can only tell these places feel off. With your paltry skills, do you really think you’ll find the problem yourselves? Have you tried technological methods?”
“We attempted to use smart AI for frame-by-frame analysis of these segments, but the results were unsatisfactory. However…”
The analyst hesitated. Xiao Li stepped in at just the right moment. “This afternoon, we tried a biotech approach, and made considerable progress compared to before!”
Under Liu Zhongwu’s skeptical gaze, everyone awkwardly shifted aside, revealing a small animal sitting on the table.
Its fur was glossy, all four limbs of equal length, and a long, slender tail curled behind it. Its right paw was busily scratching the top of its head. Noticing the newcomers’ gaze, it immediately turned its head, revealing two bright, lively eyes and a green monkey’s face.
“Squeak squeak!”
The biochem-monkey waved its paw at the towering humans, eliciting a glare and a blustering response from the director: “You people brought in a monkey?!”
Xiao Li replied with an embarrassed chuckle, “Director, we suspect this isn’t just a case of ordinary invisibility. So we borrowed this tracking biochem-monkey from the university, hoping its reactions might lead us to a clue. This little monkey has been specially trained to react to recurring humanoid figures and can help officers quickly identify suspicious individuals when reviewing surveillance footage.”
Saying this, Xiao Li quickly patted the monkey’s back. “Greenie, show the director!”
The little monkey scratched its rump and, under the glare of the portly director, scrutinized the surveillance clips.
The biochem-monkey found it strange. It had watched these segments all afternoon and had already pointed out all the suspicious humans—why did these not-so-bright humans need it to do this over and over again?
“Squeak squeak squeak!”
It raised its paw to indicate the screen, causing each clip to pause in turn. The monkey contentedly rubbed its paws together, certain that this time the humans would finally see it—the suspicious person was so obvious!
That person was not tall and looked rather young, but was dressed in striking clothes and always appeared in the most conspicuous locations: when the blue-haired woman walked the streets, the person blended into the crowd; when she leapt across rooftops, the person followed; and when she fought the strange man, the person sat on the rooftop’s edge, legs dangling, watching the show!
The human with the dark circles handed it a piece of dried fruit, which the monkey began to nibble. It watched as the towering human walked forward, carefully examining each image, and asked, “Where exactly?”
“Squeak…”
Not just this big human—none of the others seemed to have a clue, either.
The monkey thought they must have gone stupid from too much time in this boxy building; otherwise, how could they miss someone so obvious? It raised its paw, ready to point out the problem to these fools one by one.
“Squeak?”
But halfway through the gesture, the monkey itself became confused.
What had it been about to do?
It remembered wanting to show the humans the issue, but…
But it seemed to have forgotten what it was supposed to point out.
“Squeak squeak squeak!” The biochem-monkey scratched its ears and cheeks in frustration atop the table.
Director Liu stroked the monkey’s fur thoughtfully.
“Has this monkey always reacted like this?”
Xiao Li nodded. “Yes, Director. We believe the biochem-monkey’s response is quite informative. It senses something amiss, but whenever it tries to indicate the suspicious part, it becomes agitated like this, and only after a while can it return to normal.”
Liu Zhongwu stared intently at the surveillance footage. The suspicious figure was right there on the screen, plain as day, yet to him it was as if nothing was there at all.
“How peculiar…” he muttered, sighing. “At least we know the suspicious entity looks human. Using animal assistance is a good idea; see what you can do to probe its memory. Continue field investigations as well—keep digging.”
Everyone responded in unison: “Understood!”
Liu Zhongwu left the room, Xiao Li hurrying after him. “Director, Zero Shiyu hasn’t taken any special action during this period. What do you think…?”
Liu Zhongwu, hands behind his back, laughed. “She’s behaving herself, isn’t she!”
Once again, Liu Zhongwu considered what to do with this problematic individual.

How should Zero Shiyu be dealt with? For the Ritual Office, this should have been a straightforward matter: apprehend her, extract everything she knows, and then decide whether to keep or dispose of her.
But when the background of the fugitive herself was riddled with mysteries, things became more complicated. And when a certain notorious Lawblade had intervened, the situation became even more entangled.
This was someone the twin-swordsman had explicitly said he would protect—who would dare disrespect the Night Wanderer?
Madmen act with utter disregard for consequence. If he were to lose his temper, who could say what would become of Celestial City?
Official duties must be carried out, but respect must also be shown. Stuck in the middle like this, it was a difficult position indeed.
Fortunately, during the recent Lapis Disaster, no one had been harmed. Since the outcome hadn’t been catastrophic, Liu Zhongwu had no intention of killing this fugitive, who had already been used as a pawn by who knows how many hands—after all, further investigation into Zero Isle would require the cooperation of Shiyu and her associates.
In this way, the matter became much easier to handle.
The director turned to ask, “Other than meeting with the Night Wanderer, what else did she do today?”
“She also visited a supermarket near her residence, purchasing mostly instant food and beer.”
Liu Zhongwu couldn’t help but laugh.
The little lass was already living a retired life—her composure was truly extraordinary.
Having made up his mind, the director said, “Tomorrow morning, go have a talk with Zero Shiyu. Two weeks is sufficient time for her to have pondered things.”
Xiao Li asked softly, “Should we assign her to our Celestial City division, or…?”
The middle-aged man replied amiably, “Transferring a Kingdom hunter to our Ritual Office isn’t really appropriate. For a young person looking to change careers, letting her use her talents in an educational institution makes much more sense.”
“Understood.”
“I’ll have lunch with Old Ao tomorrow to discuss it. Once you have your results, contact the Seven Luminaries Shrine and arrange a meeting for me.”
“Yes, Director.” Xiao Li quickly made a note of the schedule, then asked in confusion, “Director, should we start the Zero Isle investigation now?”
“Everyone’s waiting to see how things play out—how can we start now? Want to hand the evidence straight to the Union agents? But make preparations first, so we can act smoothly later…”
Having finished assigning tasks, Liu Zhongwu once again pondered those surveillance clips and the monkey’s reaction.
“How strange. Could it be the power of a dragon-blooded?” the middle-aged man sighed. “Tomorrow I’ll discuss it with Old Ao.”
Xiao Li asked, “Director, should we consult Lord Yan?”
Liu Zhongwu simply shook his head.
If that rascal had any ideas, he’d have shown up already, making a big show of his insights—first with some sarcastic remarks in front of everyone, and then triumphantly revealing his conclusions.
Yan Qi had been holed up at home for days now, a sure sign he was as baffled as the rest.
Even the Celestial Sovereign was puzzled—what about the Night Wanderer? That oaf’s intuition was always sharp; perhaps he’d notice something amiss…
“Check all the places the Night Wanderer has visited these past days—see if you find any clues.”
Once the tasks had been assigned, the portly director chuckled to himself at some thought.
“Those two layabouts! The ground isn’t enough for their mischief—they’ve taken their class reunion to the skies…”
After a few more instructions, he stepped into the elevator and left the office tower.
So much to do, mysteries unsolved, and a mountain of work still ahead.