CH1181 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1181: The Best Team Combination

Roland twitched his lips. “Annihilation” — a barbarous word for a society that had laws. “Sounds extraordinary,” he said.

“It’s not as complicated as you think.” Garcia looked at him as if she’d already read the objection forming behind his eyes. “There are precedents. The Association uses joint missions to gather intelligence on Fallen Evils and eliminate them all at once. Knowing what you’re walking into is far safer than stumbling across one alone.”

“Have you participated in any before?”

“Er —” She faltered. “I only heard about them from my master. I wasn’t qualified to join any. This is my first time.” She paused, eyes dropping to the coffee cup in her hands. “Perhaps you don’t mind, but I have to say it plainly: when you got that hunting license, you surpassed me. The Association asked me to inform you because you’re new and might not know the transition. If you find it improper, that’s fine — I’ll let them know.”

“No, it’s fine,” Roland said. “You were the one who brought me into the Association in the first place. Naturally you should take the leadership role.” He had no interest in glorifying the Martialist Association, let alone commanding anyone. He’d joined to probe the mystery of the Erosion and the Force of Nature — and, incidentally, to earn something on the side.

Garcia stared at him for a long moment, bemused, then burst into laughter. “A leadership role — you’re so strange. You don’t want the responsibility, so you dress up the retreat as generosity.”

“More or less,” Roland said with a shrug. “Back to business. Who else is joining? Who’s the target?”

“To avoid information leaks, we disclose the plan once everyone has arrived.” She gulped the last of her coffee. “But I’ve heard some modern martialists will also be on this mission.”

Roland nodded. “When and where?”

“Tomorrow evening, six o’clock, southern suburb. I’ll text you the details. You can go alone or I can give you a ride.”

“I’ll go myself.” With Garcia, he couldn’t bring the witches. Impossible.

She twitched her lips. “Up to you.” Then she turned to Phyllis and extended a note. “I’m Roland’s neighbor — Room 0827, right next door. If you run into any trouble in this city, contact me. Any kind of trouble, including the kind where you can’t speak freely. Call that number.”

Phyllis blinked. “Th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Garcia patted her shoulder, waved at Roland from the doorstep, and said, “See you tomorrow.” Another silver clink of the door, and she was gone.

“She’s nice,” Phyllis remarked. “Your Majesty, are you going?”

“Since the Association appointed me, declining isn’t really an option. The hunting license comes with a price.” Roland glanced toward the door. “There will be others working with us, so it shouldn’t be particularly dangerous if we’re careful. Besides —” he let the thought finish itself — “killing is an effective way to relieve stress.”

“Then I’ll inform Lady Pasha and bring combat witches to assist you.” Phyllis bowed.


Roland selected four witches for the mission: Phyllis, Faldi, Ling, and Dawnen. Tracking enemies, concealing traces — exactly what this kind of operation demanded.

The following day he drove the minivan to the designated spot: a remote rest area in the southern suburbs, where they would change vehicles to avoid attention. The Martialist Association was clearly more organized than he’d expected.

He was wrong about that too.

The parking lot was lined with luxury cars. A crowd had gathered at the edges, shrilling with excitement. Cameras raised. Voices overlapping.

“Luo Luo, look over here!”

“Can I take a photo with you?”

“Is that the runner-up from last year, Mr. Youlong?”

“He smiled at me — he’s so hot!

Roland rolled his eyes. He parked, and Garcia appeared at his door almost immediately.

“Get under your veil,” he murmured.

“Got it,” Dawnen muttered. The Veil of Invisibility settled over the three witches like a held breath.

Roland stepped out and waved. “You’re fast.”

Garcia looked at the van as if it had personally wronged her. “You have a hunting license now. Why are you still driving this?”

“It’s practical,” Roland said, spreading his hands. “Grocery runs. Plenty of storage. What more do you need?” He left out the second reason: you never knew how many witches you might need to conceal.

Fine,” she said, resigned. “If you truly don’t care how people look at you.”

“I don’t.” He turned toward the crowd. “Are those people also martialists?”

“Yes, but keep that opinion to yourself. They joined the Association before you — technically, they’re your seniors.”

“And their titles?”

Garcia sighed. “Even worse. They know you represent traditional martialists. They won’t miss a chance to embarrass you.”

“I thought martialists were all selfless heroes.” He glanced at her sidelong. “Like you. You’re a modern martialist — isn’t it strange, standing next to me?”

“Not everyone cares about that conflict,” she grunted. “And you were the one who gave me the leadership role.”

“I was.” He smiled. “So I’ll follow your instructions.”

She raised an eyebrow at the cluster of people commanding the crowd’s attention. “Then let me brief you on the three main figures. You may have seen some of them at my father’s party.” She lifted her chin toward a young man at the center of the noise. “Luo Hua — a well-established martialist, excellent technique, a lot of fans, ranked tenth last year. The best in this city. He’s only twenty-two and he’s already deep into it. Impressive, whatever you think of him.”

She shifted her gaze. “Mr. Youlong — somewhere between thirty and thirty-five, I’d say. His whole family has been in martial arts for generations; that’s where the nickname comes from. An all-rounder, powerful enough that people say he’s close to a ‘guard.’ Runner-up last year, and almost certainly aiming for the championship this year. He’ll probably captain this mission.”

Garcia paused, scanning the area, then pointed toward a pavilion beyond the parking lot’s edge. “The last one is the person you should approach with extra caution.”

Roland looked.

“Fei Yuhan,” Garcia said, half-admiring, half-envious. “One of the most gifted martialists in recent years. She reached the final match within five years of starting out. I didn’t expect to see her here. With her on the team —” she gave a small, reluctant nod — “this will probably be the best combination we could hope for.”

“What do I need extra caution for? Is she going to come after me?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Garcia rolled her eyes. “You’re not even in the same league. I just want you to be careful not to develop a crush on her.”

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