MMPS Ch. 42

Chapter 42: The Eldest Daughter

 Team Leader’s Office—Underground Metro Rapid Response Unit.

Team Leader Duan sat slouched in his chair, his fingers rifling through a thick stack of documents. His throat felt dry from reading, irritation etched into the corners of his mouth.

“The Grey Crow Company’s case was handed over to Zhao Ran for full authority,” he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. “Another big achievement that old fox gets to hoard.”

“Water, Team Leader.” Huo Yangui stepped forward, holding out a glass of water.

Duan Ke accepted the cup with a grunt, lifting it casually to press it against Huo Yangui’s cheek. The glass hissed as the temperature spiked, steam curling up.

“Team Leader, are you cold?”

“Cold? Hell no. With you around, the damn room feels like it’s thirty degrees, and the heater isn’t even on. Stand back, go roast Xiao Ying instead.”

“You’re just bitter I have good taste in people.” Yuan Xiaoying’s voice cut through the room like a blade. She lay sprawled on the office sofa, her thick, rope-like braid trailing onto the floor. One hand propped her head up, her fingers idly tapping against her temple as a slow smile curled her lips. 

“Can’t blame me for picking a capable intern. That kid—what’s his name again? Yu An—he’s unnervingly cold for his age. Other kids his age are still fumbling through college or just starting work, maybe playing a few mind games. But Yu An…” She paused, eyes narrowing as though seeing through walls. “You put him in a room where blood spills and real blades flash, and he doesn’t hesitate to kill.”

Duan Ke scoffed, a mirthless sound: “Kids like him never grow into anything good. I’ve seen enough bad seeds to know. You think you can tame him? Control him? No, children like that are rotten to the core, and they can’t be changed.”

“I can take him on, Team Leader!” Huo Yangui burst out. “You always praise him, but if we fought one-on-one, he’s no match for me.”

“You’re missing the point, dumbass.” Duan Ke’s voice turned sharp, cutting through Huo Yangui’s bravado. “It’s not about brute strength. That kid would mess with your head, tie you in knots, and leave you helpless while he smiles. That’s what makes him dangerous.”

A crisp clatter of high heels echoed down the hallway outside. The sound approached, sharp and purposeful, until the door swung open.

Ni Lan swept in like a gust of wind, her long black hair flowing behind her, dark as midnight rain. “Still grumbling about the intern evaluation meeting?” she teased.

She drifted over to Yuan Xiaoying, bending close to flick the dangling earring at her ear—a subtle, taunting gesture. “Come on, jiejie, drop it. People will think we’re sore losers. Besides, I bought you a pair of peacock feather earrings last night from the midnight trader. They’ll go perfectly with your hair.”

“Hmph…” Yuan Xiaoying’s cold front cracked, satisfaction creeping into her smirk as she rose slowly from the sofa. “You kids don’t get it,” she muttered, though her tone softened. “When you’ve been stuck in one place as long as I have, the little victories—the fights—are what make life bearable.”

“You need to start changing your temperament, old lady. Let’s go shopping this afternoon. That qipao you’re wearing? It’s three years out of style.”

Yuan Xiaoying barked a laugh. “Shopping? With your schedule? Please. I know you’re too busy.” Her gaze shifted to Huo Yangui. “You and that little fireball better prepare yourselves. Tonight, you’re joining the Emergency Order Unit on a mission.”

The two women stepped out into the hallway. A tall young woman passed them, walking briskly and with deliberate grace.

Her back was straight, her posture composed—every movement imbued with an air of aristocratic poise. Yet there was an edge to her, too, something like the cold gleam of a blade. Following her were four imposing bodyguards, their sheer size and hardened demeanor enough to cow most men. Yet even they seemed cautious around her.

“Hey, Missy.” Ni Lan called out with casual cheer.

The woman turned, her expression unruffled. It was Kong Shenwei, the eldest daughter of the boss. From the moment she came of age, she’d taken it upon herself to learn the intricacies of managing the family company. Lately, she’d been spearheading the city’s public anti-aberration radiation chip initiative, a task that had consumed all her attention. Today, she must have returned to deliver her progress report.

“Team Leader Yuan.” she greeted with a faint, courteous smile. “Xiao Lan, I see you’re here as well.”

Kong Shenwei had a talent for remembering everyone’s names and faces, no matter their rank or importance. Whether it was a security guard she passed by or someone she’d met once, she would remember them. She had an eye for detail, and more importantly, a reputation for being capable—fearless yet meticulous.

Yuan Xiaoying watched her go, a flicker of satisfaction in her gaze. That woman would run this company one day, and compared to the boss—who acted on whims as fleeting as spring winds—she was a much-needed anchor.

In the executive wing, Kong Shenwei stepped into her father’s office. The room was lavish, its wide mahogany desk cluttered with papers, though the boss himself lounged at ease, attention fixed on his computer.

The screen displayed a live-stream recording of a game—a new player with the ID Black Coal.

The streamer rarely spoke, but when they did, their voice was low and indifferent, carrying a faint note of disdain that stood out in the cacophony of cheerful, chipper voices flooding the streaming platforms.

“Listen to that.” the boss murmured, his eyes half-closed as though savoring something.

“The sound of the streamer’s commentary?” Kong Shenwei asked as she listened carefully.

“The sound of money.”

“I don’t hear anything,” she replied dryly.

As though on cue, the streamer broke their silence. “Full-time gaming? No. My boss keeps piling on tasks like I’m three people in one. I want to quit, but my supervisor just PUA^[1]’s me—acts indifferent, like he doesn’t care…”

The boss rested his chin on his crossed fingers, lost in thought as he faced the screen.

“Well, now I hear it.” Kong Shenwei said, a laugh escaping her lips.

Her father coughed, hastily lowering the volume. “Enough of that. Your chip project’s going well—Mayor’s pleased, I hear. You’ve been working yourself thin, though. Don’t start starving yourself like those young girls nowadays. You need strength to help me hold this company.”

“I gained three pounds, Dad.”

“Oh—uh—well, you look…rounder in the face,” he said with a forced chuckle.

Her attention drifted back to the screen. “I heard you gave Yu An the Armor-Piercing Awl. That was Shen Yan’s gift to you—she worked on it for weeks.” 

The Tier 2 Red core embedded in it had been personally extracted by the eldest daughter from a hunted Aberrant and meticulously polished and carved by the second daughter, Kong Shenyan.

“That kid’s got potential. He’s with Zhao Ran now. I’m thinking of cultivating him properly. You should pay more attention to him”

“Doesn’t seem like he enjoys your ‘cultivating.’” Kong Shenwei observed, her sharp gaze reading between the lines. It was hard not to see the reluctance in Yu An’s livestream.

“He’ll get over it.” her father grumbled. “Kids like him need to be broken in. Someday, I’ll hand him over to you, and trust me, you don’t want an untamed dog biting at your heels.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile: “As far as I know, he doesn’t listen to you. Only to Zhao Ran.”

The boss rubbed his temples: “Exactly the problem. If he doesn’t fall in line, we can’t let him leave here alive. I won’t have a time bomb walking out of my company.”

A human capable of replacing aberration cores—if they couldn’t keep him for themselves, they certainly can’t let him fall into the hands of a rival company and become a future threat.

“I understand.” Kong Shenwei nodded, her tone calm. “Still, don’t favor him too much. The other interns are just as promising. Send them a gift, even if it’s something small to make the team leaders feel good as well.. It’s the gesture that counts.”

“Ah, I meant to—I’ve just been busy.”

“And one more thing…”

“There’s been an outbreak of aberrations in the neighboring city, and the municipal government is soliciting bids. Underground Metro was leading until the rival company interfered. The chaos Gray Crow Games is suffering now? Their doing. They’ve chosen the internet—a wildfire of opinion and the fastest way to unravel public trust—to strike us when we’re vulnerable. In a business like ours, where public safety is the product, the winner isn’t the richest or the most connected; it’s the one who makes people feel safe.”

“The boss of the rival company invited me to ‘dine’ with him—a casual pretense. I suspect they want to negotiate. They’re eyeing the southern district of Hongli City—where the ruins of the old cultivation base lie. Underneath it, experimental waste lingers, buried but brimming with potential. It can be mined and processed. But if that waste spreads, if even a whiff of radiation creeps into the city, decades of building roots here will burn. The southern district cannot be surrendered.”

The eldest daughter considered this in silence before responding.

“If I go in your stead, won’t the rival boss see it as an insult?”

The boss’s gaze sharpened.

“You’re the future head of Underground Metro. Your presence commands respect, not slight. Take Duan Ke and his men with you.”

“No need. I’ll bring Ni Lan.” She raised a slender finger to her lips. “Seasoned veterans hesitate. They follow rules. I need someone unafraid of blood and unbothered by trouble.”

The boss exhaled slowly. “Then take Huo Yangui too. If numbers are against you, he’ll even the field.”

That afternoon, the meeting was set in a private room of an elegant hotel in the city center.

The rival company, Drift Racing, was run by a married couple, clawing their way up from the eastern district of Hongli City to Enxi City. Their tactics were blunt and brutal. Underground Metro’s quiet expansion threatened thir expansion, so they turned to sabotage. They had to hold onto at least one—Hongli City’s southern district or Enxi City.

Escorted by a polite server, Kong Shenwei strode into the private room on the third floor. She sank into her chair with the grace of a ruler visiting enemy land. Beside her, Ni Lan stood still and coiled, a dealer at a high-stakes game. Her croupier suit fit like a second skin, her dice-shaped earrings catching the low light and spinning faintly.

At the door, Huo Yangui leaned against the frame. A hand brushed the base of his neck, absently aware of his heat. Careful not to scorch the hotel wallpaper.

A tall man wearing glasses stood up with a beaming smile to greet her, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with the young lady.

“Miss Kong. A pleasure. President Xiong was rushing back from out of town for this meeting, but traffic… well, it delays even the best of us. He hopes you’ll forgive his late arrival.”

“No trouble at all.” Her tone was smooth, dismissive as silk. “Drift Racing’s sincerity is clear in arranging this meeting.” Her sharp eyes lifted to meet his, slicing through empty pleasantries. “You must be Mr. Fang, the pharmacist. Drift Racing’s rise from car fleets to aberration hunters… a testament to your craft.”

Politeness hung in the room like cobwebs—tense, waiting to be brushed aside. Her gaze swept once, twice—to the guards hidden in corners and beyond the private screens. Every shadow, accounted for.

Caught off guard, Mr. Fang hurried to pour her tea. The reputation of Kong’s eldest daughter was well-known: she wasn’t someone to take lightly. The two young bodyguards with her—strangers, unusually youthful—had to be newly recruited interns.

As soon as Miss Kong stepped into the private room, she caught the lingering tension in the air. She knew then and there she wouldn’t be meeting President Xiong today.

“President Xiong won’t be arriving today, will he?” she asked softly, amusement curling her mouth. Her words echoed with knowing, and the room grew colder for it. “Relay this to him: the southern district is not up for negotiation. Underground Rail will also continue competing for the Enxi City project. If President Xiong insists on using hired aberrations to stir chaos and fracture order… well.” Her tone darkened. “We will respond in kind.”

Mr. Fang frowned: “Miss Kong, is there truly no room for negotiation?”

“Oh, Mr. Fang. Profit must be traded for profit—that’s sincerity. You call this a negotiation, but you surround us with guns. If violence is your method, then violence is ours.” She lifted her teacup. Ni Lan chuckled softly and, with a slow motion, drew a gleaming silver sword from her left pinky finger.

Mr. Fang’s expression shifted ever so slightly, but the flicker of unease was unmistakable. Embedded in her core slots—two silver cores gleamed faintly, their ominous presence matching the tension in the room. Behind him, bodyguards began to stir, weapons raising as they burst forth from the shadows. 

The orders from Mr. Xiong had been clear: pressure Miss Kong. Show her the iron beneath the surface, a sharp warning to test her resolve—but it wasn’t yet time to truly draw blood.

“Are you really going to shoot me?” Miss Kong’s tone was equal parts amusement and taunt. “We’re all Aberration hunters here, after all.” She propped her chin with a languid hand, arching a brow in challenge. Her eyes curled mischievously, their upturned edges like a fox’s smile—so sharp, so cunning—an unmistakable inheritance from her equally sly father.

Huo Yangui loosened his grip on his neck, where his gold-red dragon eye sat embedded, the iris whirling in unnatural rotations. It swept the room, scanning each corner with its eerie precision. Heat rolled off him in waves, spiraling up from the floor as blistering flames erupted in a sudden inferno. The air itself warped under the blaze, scattering Mr. Fang’s men like leaves in a storm.

The flames reflected in Huo Yangui calm gaze as he turned to Kong Shenwei: “How well-done do you want them?” he murmured.

Ni Lan stepped forward, the smooth motion of her blade slicing through the tension as she entered the fray. Her eyes swept the circle of black-clad thugs. “Mr. Fang,” she said dryly, “Miss Kong asked me not to hurt you. But this sword is long, and there are far too many people in the way. You’ll just have to take your chances.”

“You Underground Metro people call this negotiation?!” Mr. Fang shouted, scrambling for cover as his men were cut down one by one. “Hey—stop!”

*

The simulation chamber lay buried deep within the forgotten carnival grounds. The tent was faded, its striped fabric sagging like old skin. Inside, technicians moved in quiet urgency, cables snaking across the ground to connect machines humming with ominous energy.

Yu An fastened the neural connectors to his temples, ensuring each one adhered firmly. Beside him, Zhao Ran lounged casually, eyes glued to his phone, laughter bubbling up unexpectedly.

“What’s so funny?” Yu An asked, sparing him a glance.

“Miss Kong,” Zhao Ran replied, not looking up. “She’s fighting Drift Racing with her team.”

“Who?”

“Our rival company. You and I are stuck here working overtime because of them. The Aberrations wreaking havoc in the game? They’re the ones who brought them in.”

“Oh?” Yu An leaned closer, curious. He had a good impression of her. “She only brought Ni Lan and Huo Yangui? Why didn’t she call me?”

“She doesn’t need someone like you for a show of force.” Zhao Ran smirked faintly. “You’d just wipe them all out quietly. Drift Racing thought they could get away with murdering our agents? Offering up one measly life as compensation doesn’t even come close to paying their debt.”

“This just means our work gets riskier.” he muttered, gesturing to the connectors strapped across his chest. “Drift Racing will do everything they can to stop us.”

The headset crackled to life with a voice both monotone and mechanical. “Preparing to link. Neural pathways detected. Remain still.”

The tent was filled with low murmurs and the hum of machines. Outside, the perimeter was sealed, operatives from the city patrol squad standing vigilant to prevent any disruptions to the connection.

Zhao Ran secured his own connectors with practiced efficiency. Though entering the simulation would level the playing field, it wasn’t in his nature to send inexperienced recruits into unknown territory.

A pulse of current swept through their brains, sending them briefly into unconsciousness.

When they came to, they’d lost all sense of time.

The town stretched before him beneath a bruised twilight sky, golden hues bleeding downward like a slow drip of honey. It pooled onto the cobbled streets, mingling with the thick fog curling along the ground.

Above, the lighthouse loomed—a lonely monolith in the fading light. Its tattered flag flapped solemnly in the breeze, the sun-shaped insignia at its center etched with maddening intricacy.

This was Lost Town, one of the scenes in Gray Crow: Toy House.

——

Omake:

Zhao Ran spent half the night indulging in that body he had craved for so long. The other half, he spent lost in the memory of it—the taste, the sound, the sweet pain of it all.

But pleasure came at a price.

His back was a mess of red claw marks, deep and raw. His neck bore both teeth and kisses—bruises etched in patterns of tenderness and violence. That brat had been ruthless. One night of indulgence had left Zhao Ran thoroughly wrecked.

It wasn’t until he was dressing Yu An that he noticed it: around the younger man’s neck hung a thin chain. Suspended from it was the silver ring Yu An had painstakingly polished by hand.

Curiosity stirred. While Yu An slept, Zhao Ran tested the ring’s size against his own finger.

“Hah.” He clicked his tongue softly. “Making the ring this tight? You little menace… planning to kill me with sentiment?”

Yu An shifted in his sleep, face soft and unguarded as he rolled closer, an arm draping instinctively over Zhao Ran’s waist. His lashes and the bridge of his nose were still flushed faintly pink, as if the heat of the night lingered even now.

“When you’re asleep, you look like such an angel.” Zhao Ran’s voice was a quiet murmur, almost fond. He brushed the back of his hand against Yu An’s cheek, the gesture uncharacteristically gentle. The warmth under his fingertips lingered.