Python slinked cautiously through the backstreets, activating his scanning gear every few minutes to ensure no one was tailing him.

The harbor district of Blackwater City at night was a shadowy, silent place, with only a few spots buzzing with life—bars, underground fight clubs, gambling dens. This was gang territory, where even the Enforcement Department tread lightly. In such places, bloodshed was all too common.

Poverty and backwardness bred crime, and darkness and chaos were the best camouflage for those who lurked here.

Python ducked into a small gambling den, where patrons crowded around tables, shouting bets over the flutter of colorful cards, their eyes bloodshot as they pushed piles of chips forward.

Python was no stranger to the allure of gambling, but tonight he was here for a different kind of wager—to meet with an informant and collect his due of divine blood.

He made his way silently to the second floor, pushing open the door to room 208.

Dim light filled the room, casting shadows over the ornate vintage furniture. A figure in a hooded cloak sat quietly waiting.

"You're three minutes late," the informant stated impassively.

Python didn't remove his hood, wary of surveillance devices that might be hidden in the room.

The informant watched Python's cautious movements, waiting for an explanation.

"That Thornrose woman is such a nuisance. She loves bossing everyone around, and I have no choice but to comply—after all, she's my superior," Python turned off his scanner. "Give me the divine blood quickly. She's off doing her beauty routine, and I've finally slipped from her control. I'll need to rejoin her soon."

"So eager?" The informant chuckled.

"We had an agreement. I pass on information, and in return, you arrange a new identity for me to leave Blackwater City, along with a vial of divine blood," Python said coldly. "It's what I'm owed, given the risks I've taken. I expect an equal return. You're not thinking of reneging, are you?"

"We always honor our promises," the informant replied, producing a vial filled with dark red liquid. "This is your compensation."

Python's eyes locked onto the vial. He reached out to take it, but the informant's hand shifted subtly, evading his grasp.

His gaze hardened, his voice dropping an octave, "What's the meaning of this? We agreed you'd advance the divine blood as part of my payment."

"Don't be so tense, Python. Like I said, we keep our promises," the informant soothed. "There's just a small favor you need to do for us."

Python scoffed bitterly, "What was it you said last time? Just a few hours ago, have you forgotten? You told me I wouldn't have to do anything else, just focus on passing on information."

"My apologies, but this is a direct order from my superiors, and I don't have the authority to refuse on your behalf," the informant said without sincerity.

"So, do I have the authority to refuse?" Python pressed.

"You do," the informant replied. "But if you refuse, I can't give you the divine blood."

Python's temples throbbed with pent-up rage, but he managed to speak through gritted teeth, "So I'm just a tool to you, right? What do you take me for, a fool?"

"Not at all. You're a highly intelligent undercover agent. How could you be a fool?" the informant reassured earnestly.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Python spat out an expletive, his muscular chest heaving with suppressed fury, "I feel like a wild boar in the woods, lured by bait along a hunter's trail. I follow the scent to the end only to find not a feast but a hunter's trap awaiting me."

"We're not hunters, and we have no intention of trapping you. We are your collaborators, your traders," the informant said calmly. "Think of this as a business negotiation. We're still haggling. You have the right to refuse, but you'll miss out on some benefits. If you accept, you take on a certain investment risk."

"My collaborators and traders have torn up the contract. Is there any need to continue this transaction?" Python argued.

"That's not correct," the informant objected. "We're still in the negotiation phase; no formal contract has been signed. Isn't it normal to introduce new conditions during negotiations?"

Python laughed bitterly, "I've fallen right into your trap. Don't talk to me about business. Where have you seen a business investment that costs someone their life if it fails?"

"Don't be hasty to refuse, Python," the informant urged. "What we need you to do is genuinely minor, with very low risk. If you succeed, it will benefit you. Why not listen to the offer before deciding?"

"Speak," Python demanded, eyeing the informant warily.

He didn't refuse because he had already taken such a significant risk. If he backed out now, all his previous efforts would be meaningless.

That was something he couldn't accept; he didn't want to give up so easily. The divine blood was indeed an enticing lure, drawing him step by step forward.

"We have cultivated a new exotic species," the informant revealed, producing a slender glass tube. At first glance, the tube seemed empty. But when he twisted the tube and shone a miniature flashlight into it, the contents suddenly became visible.

A tiny red worm wriggled inside, its body thin as a hair, almost imperceptible.

"The Hidden Threadworm," the informant announced. "Smaller and less detectable than the Red Demon Spider you've used before. The Red Demon Spider kills its host within an hour of parasitism, while the Hidden Threadworm has a much longer growth cycle. After a lengthy development, it can burrow into the host's brain, slowly taking control of the host's body... even their thoughts."

Python's eyebrows twitched involuntarily, "You're all mad."

The Red Demon Spider was the dark red arachnid Python used to control his hitmen, about the size of a peanut in its larval stage. Once it parasitized a human, it took only a minute to burrow into the host's brain and take control. The Red Demon Spider was also provided by the informant, who now offered Python a new exotic species.

"Are you using me as a guinea pig?" Python's voice was strained. "First, the Red Demon Spider, now the Hidden Threadworm... You gave me these dangerous larval-stage creatures not just to complete tasks but to gather feedback data..."

"They are stable new breeds," the informant assured Python. "The only uncertainty is whether they can affect awakened beings, control their thoughts."

Python had an ominous premonition, "You can't possibly want me to..."

"Thornrose, she's been with you for a while, trusts you. Find an opportunity to let the Hidden Threadworm parasitize her," the informant instructed. "Place the threadworm on her skin, and in just two seconds, it will burrow in, feeling no more than a mosquito bite."

He reasoned, "Aren't you tired of that woman controlling you? This is your chance. Control her with the exotic creature, and she won't be able to boss you around anymore. Your risk of exposure will be greatly reduced."

Python was swayed.

His primary fear as an undercover agent had always been Thornrose, who was too close for comfort, leaving him on thin ice. If the Hidden Threadworm parasitized her, he wouldn't have to be so cautious.

"I can try... but I can't guarantee success," Python said. "I'll do my best to complete the task. But you have to give me the divine blood first."

The informant appeared to consider for a moment before agreeing, "Alright."

He handed over the divine blood vial and the glass tube containing the Hidden Threadworm. Python snatched them up, his eyes betraying a flicker of excitement.

He pocketed the tube and scrutinized the vial of divine blood.

"What, afraid we've poisoned it?" the informant teased.

"How could I? You still need me for your tasks," Python replied sharply.

The informant nodded in satisfaction, "As long as you're aware."

After a pause, he ventured, "I have a few questions to ask you... What is Red's supernatural ability?"

"I don't know, maybe Thornrose does, but she won't say," Python replied. "I've only told you about the Mixologist's abilities."

"How far do Amber and Obsidian's mental abilities radiate?"

"Where would I get such detailed data? Do you expect me to ask them directly?"

"What about Madame Riches' powers?"

"Nobody talks about Madame Riches' powers... She and Red are high up. We can't just ask about our superiors; it could cause trouble."

"When do you plan to blow up the harbor?"

"Before August 8th... Didn't I tell you already? Why are you asking again?"

The informant spoke calmly, "Just making sure there are no changes in your mission... If there are any changes, remember to inform me promptly."

"Understood," Python cast a suspicious glance at the informant.