Truly, a life riddled with misfortunes.
In just a few seconds, Brain Fork Brother, who had briefly attained a moment of peace, was already covered in a layer of glistening white frost.
Even though his brain anomaly kept him tough and silent, his ordinary human constitution wouldn’t hold out for long—he might succumb to death within moments.
Realizing this instantly, Amila quickly called out to stop the volunteer.
Thankfully, the other party didn’t fall into the typical intoxication that comes with newfound power and immediately heeded her suggestion.
The ice-cold aura radiating outward dissipated swiftly.
“How about we head outside to talk?”
Seeing Brain Fork Brother’s breathing gradually steady, Amila sighed in relief and made the suggestion without hesitation.
The situation had spiraled out of control multiple times today; staying here any longer would be far too dangerous for this pitiable man.
“Alright.”
Fu Qian, of course, had no objections, and after a brief moment of thought, Reginald also nodded in agreement.
In the next instant, he stepped forward, grasped the Brain Fork, and began to slowly retract it—just as calmly and steadily as when he had inserted it.
No blood flowed out. In fact, the instant the Brain Fork was fully removed, the laceration of flesh healed itself at an alarming speed.
The man’s body quivered, his breathing turned rapid, and he looked as if he could awaken at any moment.
“Let’s go.”
Reginald tucked the Brain Fork away without even sparing a glance at it.
Amila lightly nodded toward Fu Qian, signaling him to follow.
The sound of their deliberately softened footsteps echoed faintly as Fu Qian found himself sandwiched in the middle, the group slipping away quietly into the outside world.
…
The night remained dark and impenetrable—after all, only a few minutes had theoretically passed.
However, for a team that had ventured there and back, it could be said they had returned laden with spoils.
“So, is this about the time when Sect personnel are at their most alert each day?”
Gazing at the star-studded sky, Fu Qian casually posed the question.
“Not necessarily. After all, within the church, the starry sky is kept perpetually clear no matter the time of day.”
Amila, not entirely understanding why Fu Qian would care about such a thing, still answered nonetheless.
“Of course, many people do develop habits like these—seeking insights during the night.”
“Makes perfect sense; darkness sharpens clarity of will… So, are you going to report this now?”
Fu Qian nodded repeatedly before abruptly shifting the tone of his question to one brimming with anticipation.
“I can hardly wait.”
… So *that’s* why you’re curious about whether Sect members stay alert at night?
Amila froze for a moment before piecing together Fu Qian’s train of thought.
Someone is working the night shift, which means you can immediately report this and quickly arrange for more amusement for yourself, right?
Nearly unwilling to even dignify this line of thought with a response, Amila turned to glance at Reginald.
There it was—a faint trace of exasperation on his face.
Evidently, this volunteer, who seemed hell-bent on courting danger with every breath, was beginning to wear even him down.
“There are indeed higher-ups working at night, but my report won’t be finalized until tomorrow at the earliest.”
Even so, faced with Fu Qian’s barely-contained eagerness, Amila resolutely refused to match his reckless pace, her expression turning stern.
“Considering your cooperative behavior, we won’t insist you report to the Sect during this period. However, you must not stray far from your residence. I’ll have some police contacts keep an eye on you there.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t mind some enforcement—”
However, as Fu Qian began to voice his opinion on her concession, he was abruptly cut off.
“Additionally, I need to especially warn you: although both I and Lord Reginald guarantee that the Hunters won’t give you trouble, if you misuse the gift you just received and cause harm, the Hunters will immediately target you, and we won’t be able to help. Understood?”
Amila ignored Fu Qian’s words entirely, delivering her warning with uncompromising seriousness.
“Understood.”
Sensing the unwavering determination of both professionals before him, Fu Qian let out a sigh tinged with mild regret.
“Good. Let’s escort you home first.”
Finally satisfied, Amila nodded her approval.
…
“Go on. Your landlady seems to be sleeping soundly; she won’t notice a thing.”
Before long, the group stopped silently in the shadows. Amila gestured for Fu Qian to enter.
But oh, how naive you are.