Seventh floor of the hotel, outside a guest room door.
"Andrew."
Monica Zhang clutched her long, black hair with her left hand. Her eyes, clear as water, held a tension that mingled relief: "I—I thought you only booked one room."
In truth, Monica herself couldn’t quite understand her own feelings—there was fear, a bit of anticipation, and, when she saw Andrew really holding two room cards and escorting her to her door, an unexpected hint of disappointment.
Could it be...
Was Andrew truly unmoved?
She’d looked it up online, assuming that a young, energetic man like Andrew would definitely want to get closer, especially while traveling... But Monica never imagined Andrew would show not the slightest hesitation.
If Andrew had suggested sharing a room, maybe she would have refused.
But Andrew choosing to sleep next door—Monica had never even considered that possibility.
"Mm."
"Get a good night’s rest," Andrew said with a smile, completely unaware, convinced he was being the perfect gentleman.
(Omitted: System message, not part of novel narrative.)
"No, I’d better not. I’m afraid I might lose control," Andrew’s eyes brightened, but he was helpless.
He was simply too strong.
Monica was far too fragile... If anything really happened, maybe nothing would go wrong, or maybe the consequences would be unimaginable.
He couldn’t.
He absolutely couldn’t let desire endanger Monica’s life and safety.
"Huh?"
Monica’s face flushed with a rosy glow, her eyes shimmering like rippling lake water, almost too shy to meet Andrew’s gaze. "What do you mean, lose control? Are you really not coming in?"
A look of understanding flickered in Andrew’s eyes; he vaguely sensed Monica’s hidden feelings. He gently slipped his arm around her slender waist, brushed aside her waterfall of black hair, and gazed at her delicate, lively face.
Not only was her face flushed, but her petite, delicate ears had turned a translucent, adorable shade of red as well.
"It's still early."
"I'm not in a hurry—why are you?" Andrew chuckled, teasing her.
Monica grew flustered, a little embarrassed and annoyed. Puffing her cheeks, she lifted her head, opened her mouth to retort, but then her gaze shifted and she changed her mind... In the end, her arms—soft and playful—wrapped around Andrew's neck, her blushing lips pressed to his ear, her breath warm as she whispered, lips brushing against his earlobe: "Are you really not in a hurry?"
???
A rush of blood surged through Andrew—he was completely stunned.
Something was off—he was being seduced... Just as he was pondering this, Monica slipped away, shut the door with a triumphant smile, and called out, "See you!"
Click.
The door closed—and she turned the lock as well.
Andrew swallowed hard, bent slightly, then returned to his own room.
"Hmm."
Achieving Upper Three Ranks should be enough, right? If not, at least reaching Martial Artist Realm should do! After all, he'd been a noble single dog for years—it was impossible not to have thoughts like this.
So...
Andrew pulled out his... phone from his pants, opened the WeChat group chat, and asked: "For someone with martial aptitude between average and excellent, is there any way to rapidly reach Upper Three Ranks without side effects?"
"Hehehe." Chloe Ling replied instantly.
"Do you have a method?" Andrew quickly followed up.
"Hehehe."
Chloe Ling smiled without showing her teeth, remaining silent. As a single woman herself, she’d rather see all couples separated—she certainly wouldn’t help Andrew.
"I remember you used to be the group owner." Andrew said seriously, "Big Group Owner Chloe, do you have a way?"
...
Chloe Ling’s body gave a little jolt—startled, she pretended not to notice anything and quietly exited WeChat as if nothing had happened.
Heaven help her.
She might act cute, but she still didn’t dare offend Andrew.
After all, there was once Miles Ning of Green Mountain Sect, and now there was Andrew Han—who was even more formidable. No amount of cuteness could save her!
...
The next morning.
The two of them left the hotel early and took a bus to West Lake, the most famous scenic spot in Westlake City.
There stood a tall tower: a five-story pavilion with copper-tiled roofs, upturned eaves hung with bronze wind bells, graceful in form and steeped in antique charm. Some of the tower’s walls were even gilded with gold leaf.
From a distance, it gleamed with splendor.
"Look, look over there!"
"In the Legend of the White Snake, an immortal once used a tall tower to suppress a giant white serpent that was wreaking havoc, sealing it beneath." Monica pointed to the distant, towering spire, tilting her head thoughtfully.
Hm?
Andrew looked a little puzzled.
The Legend of the White Snake had been adapted into countless TV dramas—almost every modern woman had seen it, since it was a moving love story.
Only Andrew knew the truth.
It was just a folk retelling; the real event back then was a Law Realm expert striking down a serpent-type Demon as powerful as a titled third-step Martial Lord.
"What are you trying to say?" Monica lifted her pale chin, lips pursed. "The legend is nice and all, but I don't like it—especially the White Snake. I dislike her the most."
"Oh?"
Andrew was surprised.
Monica glanced upward. "Most people praise the love story, but few notice that the White Snake overturned West Lake’s waters, flooding the homes of all the people nearby."
Andrew fell silent.
He hadn’t expected Monica to have such thoughts.
"When I was little, my parents were always busy, so I was left home alone," Monica said, her tone tinged with fear. "I remember it was winter. Upstairs, someone forgot to turn off the kitchen faucet—the water overflowed, soaked their floor, and eventually seeped down into our apartment."
Clearly...
The apartment Monica lived in back then was old, and the waterproofing wasn’t good.
"I’ll never forget it."
Monica lowered her head, sounding a little forlorn. "I was so scared. Water dripped in the bedroom, living room, kitchen, even my parents’ room. I didn’t have a key, couldn’t open the security door—I thought I would drown."
As she spoke, she suddenly pursed her lips and smiled.
Childhood thinking is simple—whatever you imagine becomes reality. Monica realized how silly she’d been. "Anyway, I could really feel the fear of being flooded. It was so hopeless."
"Don’t worry. With me here, no flood in history could ever hurt you." Andrew gently squeezed her slender hand, their fingers interlacing, his heart filled with tenderness.
Most of the time, Monica was spirited and lively, as if she were unbreakably strong.
(Omitted: System message, not part of novel narrative.)
But after these two days together, Andrew realized Monica had her own moments of sadness, her lazy, adorable mornings, and her fearful, timid childhood memories.
All of this...
He wanted to listen more, to understand her past, to truly know the Monica whose cheeks turned rosy with emotion.
Monica rolled her eyes playfully. "You’re even more dramatic than me. If there really was a flood, it’d be enough if you could just carry me and run!"
Andrew laughed.
Run from a flood? With his strength, did he really need to run?
"Alright, alright." Monica didn’t want to dwell on the topic. Leaning on Andrew’s shoulder, she suggested, "Let’s take a couple of photos here, with West Lake in the background. I bet they’ll turn out well."
"Mm."
Andrew nodded with a cheerful grin.
They snapped photos as they strolled, sampled Westlake City’s famous steamed fish for lunch, and only at sunset did they head back to the hotel.
They spent another night there.
And set out again the next morning.
Hand in hand, they strolled along the neat sidewalk beside West Lake, surrounded by lively tourists and locals walking their dogs and cats.
A few cars passed by from time to time.
There was even a packed bus full of tourists—the inside was so dark it looked suffocating. Thankfully, their hotel was nearby... West Lake was just too crowded for driving, so people had to take buses, subways, or taxis.
Just then...
Andrew, still feeling lucky, suddenly frowned.
He glanced at a Mercedes van stuck in traffic nearby—a vehicle that could seat seven or eight, but inside, he sensed more than twenty distinct life forces.
His senses were razor-sharp, so it was easy to detect.
Plus, his Inspiration was subtly shifting, as if attuned to vital signs... Combining both, Andrew was certain: there were twenty-three people in that van!
"That’s insane."
"It’s a Mercedes van, for goodness’ sake, and they’re this stingy? They could’ve just called a couple more taxis instead of cramming more than twenty people into one car." Andrew shook his head, still holding Monica’s hand as they walked on toward the hotel.
Meanwhile...
Inside the Mercedes...
A young man with a chiseled face, a cigarette dangling from his lips, blew out a ring of smoke.
"Hmph."
"Told you not to go through West Lake—you’ll be stuck for at least half an hour." The young man shot a glance at the overweight middle-aged driver up front.
The middle-aged man said nothing, just kept driving.
"Hmph."
The young man snorted again, sitting in the modified rear of the vehicle, surrounded by unconscious girls.
Most of these girls were barely thirteen or fourteen.
Some of the girls wore tattered clothes—clearly street children forced to beg.
Suddenly...
A girl leaning against the car door, dressed in clean clothes, her cheeks thin and pale, murmured dazedly, "Uncle, who are you?"
"You're awake?" The young man smiled slyly. "Uncle’s taking you to find your mother. Don’t speak, or Uncle won’t help you find her."
"Really? My mom?" The girl's eyes lit up, hope flickering on her gaunt face.
"Of course it’s true," the young man said gently. "Your mother has a mental illness. We thought she had no relatives, so we grabbed a few for the numbers. Who knew she had a daughter too? Nearly made the Westlake City news."
You see...
A lonely child like you could easily spark an online sensation... If the martial world caught wind, it would ruin our plans for—
The young man chuckled darkly, then abruptly stopped.
He stubbed out his cigarette, channeling misty inner force within, and closed his eyes coldly.
In reality...
A single girl meant nothing.
In the Mason family’s breeding grounds, there were nearly ten thousand healthy "resource units."