7:00 PM.

After work, Wang Jian bid Ivy farewell, his movements cautious, as if this farewell might be their last.

After incinerating the evil corpses and closing the furnace, a strange smell lingered in the air, making her feel hungry.

Ivy took some iron beads from her pocket, crushing them into powder and swallowing them.

Higher City’s lights were on, signaling the end of the workday. The incinerator was cool and quiet, perfect for training.

[Absorption rate ↑↑]

Ivy, completely focused, continued her physical training.

Time slipped by unnoticed, the two men at the incinerator gate shivering in the cold wind.

Redhead: “Why hasn’t that kid come out yet? Didn’t she run off?”

Blond, frowning, snorted. “Let’s wait. She might be hiding inside.”

An hour later.

The incinerator workers had left, leaving only three security guards.

The blond man spat on the ground, his patience wearing thin. He and the redhead approached the incinerator.

The security guard stopped them.

The blond man tried to force his way in, prompting the guard to put down his thermos and draw his taser.

The blond man didn’t expect a security guard to resist, his face reddening with anger.

The guard said gravely, “Ivy hasn’t left yet. If you want to find her, you have to wait outside.”

Preventing unauthorized entry was the security guard’s job, and he wouldn't let them in. But he also warned them that Ivy was still inside, suggesting a tactical retreat to avoid conflict.

The blond man glanced at the taser, sneered, and stepped back. “Keep watching. I don’t believe she’ll stay inside forever.”

The redhead nodded, determined to take his anger out on Ivy later, to teach her a lesson.

Two hours later.

Both men had finished their cigarettes.

“Let’s move. She won’t dare to leave while we’re here. We can hide nearby,” the blond man said.

“Good idea,” the redhead agreed.

Both men hid in the bushes nearby.

They had been somewhat clever. As the lights on Higher City dimmed, the sound of a bicycle approaching, growing louder and closer, could be heard over the buzzing insects.

“They left?” Ivy thought.

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“Damn it. I’ll only be a little late. I said I wouldn’t leave without seeing them.”

“I shouldn’t have overestimated the loyalty of thugs,” Ivy thought resentfully, realizing they might have escaped.

“Stop!”

Two burly figures suddenly emerged from the bushes, one with red hair, the other blond, standing out starkly in the night, like a plate of tempting fried eggs and tomatoes.

Ivy swallowed. “You guys aren’t leaving?”

The redhead stroked his hair, his eyes filled with malice. “You’re swallowing now? Too late.”

Ivy dismounted, avoiding eye contact, staring at the shadows on the ground. Her voice trembled slightly, “Wait, this isn’t a good place. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Both thugs were startled, thinking they’d misheard.

Ivy felt this spot was too close to the incinerator and needed a more secluded location.

She looked up, controlling her facial muscles, feigning terror. “Didn’t you say you’d let me go if I told you what I’d been doing?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The blond man and the redhead exchanged glances, as if understanding something, their eyes brightening.

Ivy said earnestly, “I’ll show you my secret. I buried it nearby.”

The unexpected opportunity was too sudden, and the thugs’ blood surged, their breathing quickening.

Brother Ban’s training is amazing! This kid is really scared and trying to hide something!

Ivy noted their expressions, knowing they had fallen for it. She turned and slowly pushed her bike forward.

The thugs followed closely, urging her on. “Hurry up!”

Ivy, wanting to end it quickly, increased her pace, weaving through the streets until she reached a deserted area.

“How much further?” the blond man asked impatiently, not suspicious, but simply tired.

“Almost there,” Ivy said, continuing to walk.

After another fifteen minutes, the redhead grabbed the handlebars, sensing something was wrong. “Where exactly?” he demanded.

Ivy released the handlebars, looking around. She was surrounded by bushes, barely reaching her waist. In the distance, a half-finished building was swallowed by the shadows.

The only sounds were the wind and insects. They were alone.

Ivy turned. “Here. I think it’s perfect. What do you think?”

The redhead looked around suspiciously. “Where are we? What do we think? What did you bury? Where exactly is it buried?”

Ivy looked up at the lights of Higher City, one by one switching off, then pointed to the ground beneath the thugs’ feet, revealing a row of white teeth in a cruel smile.

“I buried you two,” she said darkly.

The chilling words sent shivers down their spines. They looked at Ivy, whose pale face was now filled with malicious intent.

Before the redhead could react, Ivy’s hand shot out, assuming a strange stance.

The redhead hastily let go of the handlebars, but couldn’t avoid Ivy's lightning-fast strike.

Crane Claw Technique, Third Form—Sky-Splitting Claw.

Guided by years of muscle memory, her fingers tore through the air, emitting a sharp whistling sound, much like when she’d practiced with the iron beads.

With a light movement, Ivy’s claw retracted.

The redhead’s retreat faltered. He screamed, his body falling forward as his shoulder was torn open, a claw piercing his collarbone. Blood gushed forth, staining his face.

Red face, red hair—the scent of death!

“Weak. Needs more training,” Ivy muttered, ignoring the redhead’s screams. Her claw tightened around the bone, tearing it from the socket.

Zhang Tong had tried to do the same to her, but had failed. Now, Ivy used the same technique on the redhead.

Crane Claw Technique, Sixth Form—Bone Severing.

The redhead couldn’t escape, his weakness evident. He was close to death.

The torn bone severed muscles; the severed muscles severed blood vessels. His shoulder and neck were ripped open, the sight gruesome.

Don’t retreat. Retreating leads to death. I won’t retreat, even in death, Ivy thought, feeling her combat skills surging. She turned, executing the second form of the Crane Claw Technique—Dragonfly’s Grab—toward the blond man, who was drawing his knife, his face changing in alarm.

The blond man saw the redhead’s state and roared, his heart pounding. “We were just bluffing you this afternoon! Don’t overreact!”

Ivy ignored him, taking two steps. Her index and middle fingers, a chilling purplish-black, extended.

The second form, Dragonfly’s Grab, sounded harmless. It was swift and silent, but it was designed to gouge out eyeballs—a vicious technique.

“I know you were bluffing, but it doesn’t matter. You have to kill me, or I’ll kill you,” Ivy said coldly, intent on taking a life.