Realm Walker

Zhang Yuanqing felt his spirits lift. Could he really arrange for a meeting that day?

"He's in Songhai? Give me his contact info and address," he said.

His mother gave a hum of acknowledgment.

—I'll text you shortly. The gentleman is a very successful businessman overseas and an important business partner of mine. When you meet him, mind your manners. You should be good at that sort of thing.

She was still quite confident in her son's social skills.

"I know, I know. My foreign language skills aren't bad either," Zhang Yuanqing said.

His mother seemed unusually free that day, and didn't hang up right away.

—I heard from your grandmother that you've been staying up late playing games with Yu'er every night lately. That's going to affect your studies.

What's the point of studying? It's not like my professors teach me how to clear Spirit Realm dungeons...

"Don't listen to Grandma exaggerating," Zhang Yuanqing replied. "Auntie and I only play games on weekends."

The rest of the time, I play by myself.

His mother sighed.

—What your Grandma means is, you shouldn't spend every weekend hanging around Yu'er. She needs to start dating. She can't keep pouring all her energy into you. You two aren't that far apart in age, and you're both at the point where you should be seeing people. It's not a good look, always being together.

Zhang Yuanqing felt a sudden surge of irritation. "If you want to lecture me, come back and do it in person. If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up. I need to head out for class."

He forcefully ended the call, then flopped back on his bed, howling dramatically. "Grandma, why are you tattling to my mom again? Is there no loyalty left in this family? I'm cutting ties with you!"

The bedroom door swung open. Grandma stood in the doorway gripping a broom, her gaze ice cold.

"What did you just say?"

Zhang Yuanqing knew when to bend.

Zhang Yuanqing knew when to bend. "I said I love Grandma the most! Grandma is even better than Mom. I wish I could be your son too."

Grandma gave a cold snort and slammed the door shut.

Zhang Yuanqing pursed his lips and glanced at his phone. His mother's text hadn't arrived yet, so he got up, sat down at his desk, turned on his computer, and logged into the official database to search for Chi Yue'an. A few seconds later, the man's full history appeared before him, clear as day. With the clearance level he had, he could access the files of most stewards in the Songhai Branch, the exception being someone like Fu Qingyang, a prodigy whose status placed him above such inquiries.

Chi Yue'an had originally been a live-in son-in-law of the Zhu family. The Zhu family was a Musician noble house, and because Musicians excelled at nurturing life and producing Life Essence, the Three Musician clans were often called the "Three Life Clans."

When Chi Yue'an first joined the Five Elements Alliance, he had been a mere Level 2 Fire Sage. With the Zhu family's backing, he climbed steadily in levels, and his rank rose from ordinary member to captain, then to steward.

His signature items were the Sweet Rain Inner Armor and the Crimson Flame Divine Weapon. The former was a high level Musician-class item, and the latter belonged to the Fire Sage class.

He's been a Saint for over a year now, Zhang Yuanqing mused to himself as he read through the file. That means he's been through four or five solo dungeons and over a dozen multiplayer ones. Even accounting for possible losses, his accumulated experience should put him close to Level 5. Not getting tangled up with him last night and using Charm to escape was the smart move.

Setting items aside, there was an enormous gap between early Level 4 Walkers and veterans, and the gulf between the Saint tier and the Transcendent tier was even more absurd. Kou Beiyue, that guy, probably had one or two trump cards up his sleeve. That was the only reason he'd dared attempt to assassinate a Saint. And yet, he'd still failed.

Zhang Yuanqing quietly resolved to conduct the investigation on his own, then hand whatever evidence he gathered over to Fu Qingyang. It would be best not to expose himself. Making an enemy of a steward would bring endless trouble. And behind that steward stood an entire noble family.

Ding!

His phone gave a short, sharp chime. Zhang Yuanqing's gaze left the computer screen and he snatched it up.

Demon Eye Heavenly King: You purified my mark?

Shit! Zhang Yuanqing's scalp prickled.

He feigned calm and replied: Is there a problem?

I should have Wang Tai track his location immediately, he thought to himself as he did so. Get the five elders to swarm him at once. What's there to fear even if he came prepared? Unless the other Heavenly Kings of Bing Zhu Sect came too?

Demon Eye Heavenly King: No Transcendent-tier Nocturnal Specter can wield the Power of the Diurnal Spirit. I had someone look into Yuan Ting. Word is he was summoned to the capital recently, and the Taiyi Sect's official forums have daily videos of him being put through the wringer. You're not him!

Zhang Yuanqing's heart lurched. He nearly dropped his phone. After a moment's thought, he typed back a reply.

Zhang Yuanqing: Who exactly are you? Why is your behavior so bizarre?

Demon Eye Heavenly King: Heh. Given the commotion I caused in Songhai these past few days, you, a Level 3 Nocturnal Specter, shouldn't be completely unaware. Yet you're still pretending you don't know me? Hmm. There can't be too many Nocturnal Specters in Songhai capable of using the Power of the Diurnal Spirit. It won't be hard to find out who you are. Unless you've never once used abilities from that domain.

Zhang Yuanqing: Knock yourself out.

He had to maintain a brave front.

Demon Eye Heavenly King: Heh. Has anyone told you that my Demon Eye can seek out Spirit Realm Walkers? Songhai may be big, but Kangyang District isn't. Give me some time, and I'll find you. I think, when I do, the look on your face will be very entertaining.

Are you really that bored? Hunting for Yuanshi Tianzun and the Slaughter Cessation Palace Master on one hand, while threatening official Walkers for fun on the other...

Zhang Yuanqing silently switched off his secondary SIM card and stopped replying. Part of him wanted to delete the Demon Eye Heavenly King from his contacts entirely, but he figured that keeping him as a friend at least gave him a way to indirectly gauge the Heavenly King's attitude and movements. Perhaps one day the phone tracking angle would prove useful.

The number of people who know I can tap into the Power of the Diurnal Spirit should be small, Zhang Yuanaqing tried to reassure himself. Still, this is bad. The Demon Eye's clues are piling up. How much longer can I stay hidden? Even the palace master is better at laying low than me...

While he was lost in thought, his mother's text finally arrived. It was a photo of a business card, printed with a name, contact information, and company title. His mother had also written a Songhai address on the card.

Bill Tarantino. Ante Pharmaceuticals. Director of Market Development. Ante Pharmaceuticals...

Zhang Yuanqing turned on his computer and searched for the company online. What he found startled him. Ante Pharmaceuticals was an extremely well known overseas company, one of the top ten pharmaceutical giants in the world.

"Mom's career is doing better than I imagined," he murmured as he saved the number to his phone and dialed the number printed on the business card.

The line rang twice before someone picked up. A woman's voice answered, immediately launching into a string of English.

Zhang Yuanqing caught the gist and replied in English, "I'm Chen Shu's son. I'm looking for Mr. Tarantino."

—One moment, let me check the schedule.

A few seconds later, the woman's voice returned.

—Of course. Mr. Tarantino mentioned he's been expecting you. Sir, may I have your address? We'll send a car.

"No, no need. I'll come on my own." Zhang Yuanqing was very particular about keeping his home address private these days.

—Certainly! Is there anything else I can help you with?

Tell Mr. Bill to get washed up and wait for me, Zhang Yuanqing thought wryly.

"No, that's all. I'm heading over now."

He ended the call, put on his shoes, and dug through his wardrobe for the formal suit Li Dongze had custom tailored for him. He stood before the full length mirror by the window and got dressed.

The fastidious squad leader had once required all his subordinates to wear formal attire to and from work, and had a suit made for Zhang Yuanqing accordingly. Later, after Zhang Yuanqing racked up one commendation after another and his brilliance began to overshadow his superior, the squad leader's standards for him gradually loosened.

First it was stocking cola in the fridge, then it was not requiring him to wear the suit. And later still, when Li Dongze suspected him and Guan Ya of "exchanging pointers" in the restroom, the squad leader had merely remarked, "There are hotels nearby. Conducting such affairs in the office is very inelegant."

Dressed in his suit, Zhang Yuanqing slipped out of his bedroom, snuck out of the house, and hailed a taxi by the roadside, heading for International Tower.

International Tower was one of the landmark buildings in Songhai's central business district. Many prestigious financial firms were headquartered here, and renowned foreign companies favored it as the location for their mainland branches. Songhai, a bridgehead for foreign capital, had many such places, but International Tower was the most famous among them.

It was peak morning rush hour. Sharply dressed professionals crossed the streets in droves, surging toward the various office buildings.The sea of bobbing heads and the crush of traffic were a signature sight of the Songhai central business district.

The vast majority of these office workers couldn't afford rent in the district itself, and their daily commute involved forty minutes or more on the subway. The first thing they did each morning wasn't enjoying breakfast but racing through the subway system under the fading stars, desperate not to be late.

The pace of life was relentless, so relentless that even a man of Zhang Yuanqing's rare good looks couldn't draw so much as a single glance from the women around him. Their eyes were fixed firmly on the traffic lights. The moment the light turned green, they charged across the crosswalk without a second's hesitation.

Zhang Yuanqing followed the herd across the street and arrived at the base of International Tower. He dialed the number of Bill Tarantino's assistant.

"You need an employee badge to get into the building. I can't get up," he said in slightly imperfect English.

—One moment.

A few minutes later, a man in a blue-gray suit and white dress shirt emerged from the building, looked around, and called out, "Which one of you is Mr. Zhang?"

Zhang Yuanqing raised his hand. "Over here."

The suited man sized him up, then broke into a warm smile. "Mr. Tarantino's assistant sent me down to bring you up."

The two waited a considerable time at the ground floor before squeezing into an elevator.

The man raised an arm to shield Zhang Yuanqing, carving out a small pocket of space for him, and said apologetically, "Sorry about this. It's always like this at this hour."

Zhang Yuanqing wasn't yet old enough to be job hunting, and had never been to a place like this before. He gave a composed nod and offered no comment. The elevator stopped at the thirty-seventh floor, and he followed the man out of the elevator.

The entire floor belonged to Ante Pharmaceuticals. The suited man led him into the Marketing Department and addressed the receptionist there."

"Annie's guest has arrived. Let her know."

The receptionist gave a slight nod, picked up the desk phone, and made the call. Moments later, a tall woman in a white blouse and pencil skirt emerged from the inner offices.

She looked about thirty. Golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes were a deep oceanic blue, shimmering with a captivating, almost sultry allure. Her features were refined and sculpted. She was a woman of extraordinary charm.

She approached like a spring breeze sweeping past, carrying with it a warmth that stirred something primal in all who felt it. Every male employee in the office stared, transfixed.

The foreign woman looked Zhang Yuanqing up and down, then extended her hand with a smile.

"Hello. I'm Annie," she said in perfectly-fluent Mandarin. "You're younger than I expected."

"Hello, hello!" Zhang Yuanqing shook her hand, unconsciously giving her soft, smooth fingers a few extra squeezes. "Your Mandarin is better than I expected, too."

At that, Annie flashed a proud grin. "It was a very difficult language to learn, but I mastered it in only three years."

She didn't pull her hand away, letting the young man get away with his little indulgence. Her smile grew even more alluring.

"Oh my goodness, you are truly a woman blessed by the Almighty!" Zhang Yuanqing replied, deadpan. "Your linguistic talents leave me absolutely astounded. That is so unlike myself, who has spent half a lifetime studying English and still cannot achieve proper pronunciation. But I assure you, I have studied most diligently."

Annie blinked. "I can have a normal conversation, you know. You don't have to speak to me like a Victorian gentleman."

Zhang Yuanqing beamed. "Oh, God, that is most wonderful news indeed."

After a moment, Annie forced a smile. "Follow me. Mr. Tarantino is waiting."

Only then did Zhang Yuanqing reluctantly release her hand and follow the assistant deeper inside. As they walked, his gaze seemed to lose all self control, drawn like a magnet to Annie's backside. Her hips, wrapped snugly in that pencil skirt, were round as a peach, full as the moon, stirring something primal within him.

This woman...

Before long, the two stopped outside the department head's office.

Annie rapped lightly on the brown wooden door and said in English, "Mr. Tarantino, your guest has arrived."

A rich male voice came from within. "Come in!"

Annie turned the handle and led Zhang Yuanqing inside. The office was lavishly appointed. To the right stood a handcrafted solid wood desk, with a small striped flag propped in the far corner. To the left was a reception area furnished with plush sofas, a glass coffee table, a liquor cabinet, and more.

Behind the solid wood desk sat a foreign man in a casual light-colored blazer. His short-cropped hair was a sandy brown and he had sharply defined features, with fine crow's feet fanning out from the corners of his eyes. His gaze was deep and tranquil, carrying the weathered look of someone who had seen too much of the world. He was a man of mature, seasoned charm.

Bill Tarantino rose slowly, walking toward the reception area and saying with a warm smile, "Good morning, Mr. Zhang. Shall I have my assistant prepare some breakfast for you?"

"Thank you, but no," Zhang Yuanqing replied with a shake of his head as he settled into the soft sofa.

Bill Tarantino took the seat across from him.

"Your mother and I are close business partners," he said in a gentle tone. "She's a very capable woman, and a forceful one. I admire her greatly, though she also gives me headaches, because at the negotiating table, she's absolutely relentless. But she has one quality I appreciate: she's extremely efficient. She never wastes time on hollow pleasantries or tiresome social obligations. That's a trait I've found lacking in many of the mainland businesspeople I've encountered."

She just wants to squeeze money out of you foreigners as fast as possible. After all, she's the kind of workaholic who finds parent-teacher conferences inefficient, Zhang Yuanqing thought to himself, roasting his mother in his mind while keeping smile on his face.

"Thank you for the kind words, Mr. Tarantino. Like my mother, I dislike inefficient communication. Do you know why I'm visiting today?"

Bill Tarantino leaned back into the sofa, legs crossed, fingers interlaced over his abdomen. "You're referring to the pills that treat your headaches?"

Zhang Yuanqing nodded. "I'm very curious about what exactly this medication is. I can't find it anywhere outside of Ante Pharmaceuticals, and I can't find any information about it whatsoever. My mother told me it's a new drug your company developed, but to be frank, that explanation doesn't convince me. Developing new drugs requires enormous investment. Treating a rare condition that isn't widespread can't possibly generate the kind of profits to justify the cost."

Bill Tarantino considered this for a few seconds, then replied, "You're right. This drug wasn't developed for your condition specifically. It simply happens to alleviate your headaches. The drug we developed addresses all issues pertaining to the soul. It's used to repair trauma sustained by the soul."

He paused briefly as he reconsidered his words. "Forgive me, my phrasing was slightly inaccurate. Let me correct myself. The mind. In Chinese, 'the mind' would be the more appropriate term."

It addresses all trauma sustained by the soul...? Zhang Yuanqing fell silent.

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