The Troublesome Old Acquaintance

Guan Jinyue turned and walked along the narrow alley between shipping containers toward Pier Number Three.

After about twenty or thirty meters, she stopped.

Not because someone was blocking her path, but because she sensed a very faint presence.

This presence wasn’t a supernatural ability or psychic energy. Ordinary people could never detect it, and most ability users couldn’t either.

But she could.

Because she carried something similar herself.

It was the presence of Baal.

Guan Jinyue stood still, her silver hair blown to one side by the night wind, her dark pupils fixed on the direction from which the presence emanated.

Northeast corner.

Based on her information, that area should be one of the outer casual workers’ positions tonight.

She waited in the shadows for a few seconds, then changed direction and headed northeast.

Her footsteps were swallowed by the sea breeze.

When she was about fifteen meters from a row of abandoned containers, she spotted a figure.

A man crouched beside a container. Next to him lay a purple-furred leopard.

A summoner?

She could sense it—Baal’s presence was coming from this person.

It was faint, as if something was suppressing it, but it was definitely there.

Guan Jinyue didn’t move closer. She stopped fifteen meters away and spoke.

“Hey...”

The man’s posture didn’t change. His crouched body made no extra movement; he merely slowly tilted his head.

The purple leopard beside him lifted its head, ears perked in her direction, emitting a low, barely audible growl from its throat.

But the man didn’t move. He didn’t even fully turn his head.

“You.” Guan Jinyue called out again.

“I heard you.”

The man’s voice came from near the containers, neither loud nor low, carrying a lazy weariness.

Judging by the voice alone, he sounded like a middle-aged man in his forties.

He slowly stood up and turned to face her.

Fifteen meters apart. The night was thick, and the dock lights didn’t reach this area. Guan Jinyue could only make out a vague silhouette.

Medium build. Neither thin nor fat. Wearing an ordinary jacket, with a cheap mask on his face—one of those ten-yuan plastic things sold at street stalls.

The face beneath the mask was completely invisible, not even the eyes were exposed.

But she wasn’t there to look at his face. Whatever was under the mask didn’t matter.

“You carry Baal’s presence,” Guan Jinyue said without preamble.

The other side didn’t answer.

The leopard’s tail brushed lightly across the ground, its purple pupils staring at her through the darkness like two cold, small lamps.

“I don’t know anything about Baal.” The man’s tone was flat, but his speech slowed down slightly.

Guan Jinyue didn’t move.

What she sensed couldn’t be wrong.

Baal’s presence was unique. It had left its mark inside this person’s body.

Most people could never come into contact with it.

“You have a contract with Baal,” Guan Jinyue said. There was no doubt in her voice—she was stating a fact.

“What are you talking about?” The man’s pitch rose slightly, feigning confusion.

But Guan Jinyue wasn’t buying it.

She had seen too many good actors.

“I mean you no harm.”

“But you just killed someone. Maybe two,” the man said.

Guan Jinyue’s brow twitched.

He knew.

He hadn’t guessed. The certainty in his tone was too strong—it wasn’t speculation after hearing the radio go silent.

This man had been watching the southeast corner’s activity all along. And his perception surpassed hers.

He reacted faster than that team leader.

A third- or fourth-tier casual worker shouldn’t have that level of perception.

Guan Jinyue re-evaluated the man before her.

The mask hid his face. His body was relaxed, but his center of gravity was firmly balanced between both feet.

He looked like he was just standing there, no different from an ordinary person.

“Right,” Guan Jinyue admitted. “I killed the man in the southeast corner and dealt with the leader. They got in my way.”

The man behind the mask said nothing.

“You’re not running?” Guan Jinyue asked.

“Would I get away?”

“You probably wouldn’t.”

Guan Jinyue’s tone was uncertain, though she was confident in herself. Still, this man was connected to Baal, meaning he had to have exceptional qualities.

The last contract holder she had met was that young man named Chen Guan. Like her, he had a sorrowful past and someone he couldn’t forget.

She had heard he was doing well now, having just outshone a host of prodigies.

She wondered if she’d ever have the chance to work with him.

“Then I won’t run.” The man pulled his hands out of his pockets, empty, spreading all ten fingers to show her—a gesture of surrender. “Ask whatever you want. But I really don’t know anything about Baal. You might have the wrong person.”

Guan Jinyue stepped closer, reducing the distance to about ten meters.

The presence was clearer now.

It was definitely Baal.

Suppressed by something, like a membrane wrapping that presence inside. Only a small fraction was leaking out, but its texture was identical to her own.

“I didn’t mistake you.”

She stopped walking, tilting her head slightly. Her silver hair slid over her shoulder.

“You don’t have to admit it, and you don’t need to deny it. I can sense it myself. You carry the same thing I do.”

Troublesome.

Chen Guan’s mind raced behind the mask. He wasn’t particularly concerned about Guan Jinyue’s motives—he just wanted to get rid of her.

“This Baal you’re talking about—what is it? Do you mean the demon lord I’m thinking of?” He spoke, his voice carrying just the right amount of bewilderment.

Guan Jinyue tilted her head. “You really don’t know?”

“I really don’t know.” Chen Guan took a half-step back, leaning against the container wall. “I’m just a casual worker playing for scraps. This is my first night at this dock. What you’re saying about presences and contracts—I don’t understand it.”

Guan Jinyue stared at him for a few seconds.

“Your heartbeat is very steady.”

“Because when I’m nervous, my heartbeat doesn’t speed up,” Chen Guan said. “It slows down.”

That was true.

Guan Jinyue pursed her lips, unsure if she found the answer interesting or was gauging its credibility.

“Then how do you explain the presence on you?”

“I can’t explain what I can’t feel.”

Chen Guan spread his hands, palms up, fingers open, continuing his harmless pose. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken? The smell of rust is so strong here—any presence would get mixed up.”

Guan Jinyue didn’t take the bait.

She took two more steps forward, reducing the distance to about seven meters.

Baobao’s growl grew louder. Its front paws pressed into the ground, half-rising.

Chen Guan pressed a hand on its head.

“Easy.”

Baobao glanced at him, reluctantly lying back down, but its muscles remained taut.

“That beast of yours has it too.” Guan Jinyue’s gaze fell on the leopard, her tone sounding like she was talking to herself. “Residual traces. Very faint, but present.”

Chen Guan silently cursed his luck.

Guan Jinyue’s perception exceeded his expectations.

The mask could block psychic probing, but it couldn’t block the resonance of their shared origin—like two frequencies vibrating on the same wavelength.

Baal’s mark on him was too deep, etched into his very bones. It couldn’t be hidden by mere disguise.

But he couldn’t admit it.