Inside a towering skyscraper that pierced the clouds, in a secretive room, a handsome yet sinister young man lounged on the sofa.
"Boss, you really gonna let Chao Shu bring that woman over?" the assistant whispered. "We still haven't found any trace of Jack Young, but people don't just vanish. Should we keep looking?"
"No need. I don't have the patience to wait around." The young man sipped from his cup—not coffee, but floral tea. "Besides, compared to that so-called 'most beautiful martial artist,' don't you think a girl from the deathmatch arena is way more interesting? Those old perverts must be dying to see this kind of show."
"But Boss, there haven't been any women's matches lately. All the fighters queued for the deathmatch are big burly men," the assistant reminded.
"I'm not putting her in the women's division—that's pointless!" The young man's eyes gleamed. "I want her fighting men! In a lawless place, inside an inescapable iron cage, with no rules or morals. Primitive brawling is old news—how about a battle between the sexes? I bet those twisted deathmatch fighters will put on a hell of a show!"
Glancing at his hesitant assistant, the young man smirked, "Relax, I provide entertainment for fighters, not freaky movies. A woman who can handle Chao Shu isn’t weak. What, feeling sorry for her?"
"No, Boss, I—okay, fine, I do feel a bit sorry for her. Honestly, that girl is... really something."
"Oh? You've already got her picture?"
"Yep, the moment her plane landed, I snapped her image." The assistant tapped his mini computer, and the screen opposite the sofa lit up. "Look, Boss, that's the girl."
On the screen, Jill Young had just stepped off the plane's stairway. The wind tossed her hair, and a playful smile danced on her lips.
The young man had been smirking, casual and mocking. Beauties? He'd seen plenty, played with more. No matter how stunning, it’s all the same—slap on some makeup, and you could mass-produce Instagram models.
But when he saw Jill Young’s photo, the smirk slowly faded from his lips. His eyes widened, pupils shrinking.
His breathing slowed.
"Boss, isn't this girl something else?"
The assistant’s voice snapped him out of it. He let out a soft breath, realizing his whole body had tensed up for a moment. Something new flickered in his eyes. The young man said, "Same old rules: test her first. If she passes, we’ll see about training her. If not, send her home. And pick me the toughest, meanest tester you can find."
"Got it, Boss. I’ll set it up."
The assistant left, but the young man stayed on the sofa. He glanced at Jill Young’s photo again, shaking his head with a self-mocking smile before waving the screen off.
"Huh, weird. She feels oddly familiar—probably just looks like someone I know."
Meanwhile, Jill Young arrived in the dazzling city—Hong Kong.
Her new employer was clearly loaded: luxury cars, private jets, glamorous flight attendants—the whole nine yards. Everything screamed extravagance, all to leave Jill Young with the impression that this was a big-shot operation not to be messed with. Plus, that so-called "100K monthly salary" suddenly felt legit. If Jill were just an ordinary person, she might've been intimidated, maybe even a little nervous.
Too bad Jill Young wasn’t in it for the money. At least, ten grand a month wasn’t enough to tempt her. In the last world, Max Easton’s brick had become a sensation—instantly treated like a priceless treasure. True to his word, Max wanted to give Jill half the profits, which were worth way more than gold by weight. But as much as she’d earned, Jill couldn’t take it all with her. So, after some thought, she swapped it for valuables and stashed them in her Pocket Vault.
What valuables? Gold, of course. Sure, gems are great, and a big diamond is worth more than gold, but Jill didn’t care about the difference. She was short on time, so she just stuffed her vault full of gold and called it a day.
With all that gold tucked away, Jill was now immune to ordinary 'luxury.'
Hong Kong is a bustling city, but also an old one—and old, developed cities tend to be crowded, with narrow streets. Jill had never been here before, so the layout was a mystery. She glanced out at the scenery, letting the city’s glitz pass her by, until they arrived at a skyscraper.
The skyscraper’s glass walls flashed in the sunlight. The white-haired old man said proudly, "Please get out, this is Prime Integrity Corp’s headquarters. The boss is waiting upstairs."
Jill hopped out, squinting up at the building, shrugging noncommittally, and followed the old man inside. It looked just like any other company—pretty receptionist at the front desk and all. The old man led Jill to the back, swiped his card to open a special elevator, and gestured, "This one’s for VIPs. Goes straight to the boss’s floor. It’s your first time here, so I’ll show you the way. If we end up working together, you’ll get your own ID card."
Jill didn’t say anything. She glanced at the elevator’s security camera. It was subtle, but she could tell—it had just turned to track her.
The building was tall, and the elevator was fast. Soon, they were above the 70th floor. For most people, the view from here would be dizzying. The old man stopped at a door. "Alright, go on in. The boss is inside. Just remember," he added pointedly, "every job comes with an interview." Then he left.
"What’s with all the secrecy?" Jill muttered as she pushed the door open. It wasn’t an office, but a square room—white walls, white ceiling, white floor, all padded like a psych ward.
Opposite the door was a big mirror. Somewhere, a hidden speaker crackled with a woman’s voice: "Applicant, please stand on the yellow line in front of the mirror."
There really was a yellow line in front of the mirror, about a meter and a half away.
"Applicant, please stand on the yellow line in front of the mirror," the voice repeated, urging Jill Young. But if Max Easton were here, he’d tell them—don’t bother! She’s not one to follow the rules.
Sure enough, Jill ignored the yellow line and went right up to the mirror, checking herself out. She’d never really had a good look at herself before.
Blackridge Bandits and the ancient world—forget it, there weren’t any mirrors. And the day she got back from Blackridge, she was so shocked, so uncomfortable in her own skin, she only took a quick glance.
Now, maybe it was time, or maybe something else—but Jill felt fine about being 'Jill Young.' She checked herself out and realized she really was good-looking, fitting her own definition of a beauty. Of all the girls she knew, only Dummy Meg and a couple others could stand next to her without looking plain.
At least, those two—Little Jade and the foreign girl—weren’t even close to Jill’s looks. No wonder they seemed so awkward.
"Applicant, please follow the instructions. Now, turn right and stand still."
Jill turned this way and that, noticing she vaguely resembled her mom. Thinking back to old photos, she realized she looked a lot like her mother in her youth—maybe this 'Jill Young' body wasn’t just randomly created after all?
The voice sounded impatient: "Applicant, please cooperate so we can collect your image."
"Enough with the nonsense!" Jill snapped, even more impatient. She raised an eyebrow, scanning the room for cameras and snapped, "I’m not here to be a model! What image collection? Want my measurements too?"
No cameras in the corners—so... Jill turned back to the mirror. She remembered reading a post about spotting a two-way mirror—the kind you see in movies. The trick is simple: put your finger on the glass. If there’s a gap between your finger and its reflection, it’s a regular mirror. If not, it’s a spy mirror.
Jill pressed her finger to the mirror, then grinned at it. "Alright, show yourself already! If you don’t come out, I’ll drag you out myself!"
No sooner had she finished than a shadow appeared behind her—a burly white man launched himself forward, fists clenched, aiming a savage blow at the back of Jill’s head. His eyes gleamed with bloodlust, ready to split her skull wide open.