Chapter 11: Hailing a Cab

"Do any of you know the way?"

"Nope!"

"Then where the hell are we even going?"

The three of them had wandered the streets for ages, utterly aimless, before finally... realizing a critical issue: not a single one of them actually knew the way.

"Should we call a cab?" Blackie suggested, quick on his feet.

"Do you have any money?" Li Changlu dashed his hopes with a bucket of cold water.

"Nope. It's true what they say—a single coin can defeat even a mighty bear." Blackie shook his head in disappointment.

"It's 'hero,' not 'bear,' for crying out loud," Li Changlu muttered, exasperated by Blackie’s constant mix-ups.

"How about we mug someone? Maybe a random elementary school kid?" Qing suggested, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a cute little gesture.

"Mug him for a lollipop, you mean? Kids these days are taller than you—think you could actually pull it off?"

"And really, I keep telling you both to drink more walnut milk for your brains. Don’t just charge in like idiots—think for once! Use your heads!" Li Changlu’s patience was wearing thin, his proverbs nearly derailed by Blackie’s foreigner logic.

"Do you have a better idea?" Qing shot back, unimpressed.

With a flourish, Li Changlu produced a gold necklace from his bag, its shine enough to blind Blackie’s beady eyes. He’d lifted it from Pepper Monster—it would solve their immediate crisis perfectly.

Qing and Blackie looked at him and the necklace with utter disdain. This solution was just a little too... direct.

So, the three hailed a cab. While they waited, Li Changlu made sure to explain to Qing, over and over again, that "hailing a cab" meant calling a taxi—not literally beating up a car. He stressed, repeatedly, that she should not do anything illegal. Did she understand? Did she really understand?

Qing was adorable, but her actions weren’t always as cute as her looks.

In most cities, a cab driver is a jack-of-all-trades—a tour guide who can chat about everything from gourmet food to grisly murders, or regale you with stories about his uncle or cousin-in-law. He could talk about anything, with anyone, for as long as you liked. But one thing stayed the same: you had to pay the fare.

Li Changlu’s driver was no exception—enthusiastic and bold, even down to the way he gripped his knife.

"Come on, now, isn’t this a bit much?" Li Changlu said with a wide grin, hoping to calm the agitated driver.

"Not only did you freeload a ride, but you tried to make me pay a stupidity tax. Not happening," the driver replied, tossing the gold necklace back at Li Changlu.

It was a fake—Nicolas Pepper’s phony necklace.

The driver brandished his long knife with growing excitement, waving it back and forth before the three in the back seat.

"Sir, please rest assured, we will pay you not a single cent for this ride. As for your kindness, we’ll make sure your name is remembered for eternity." Blackie, after much deliberation, finally landed on the perfect idiom.

Since coming to this country, he’d learned that language was a powerful tool—a well-chosen phrase could make anyone feel at ease.

But...

Maybe...

It seemed...

This time, he’d succeeded with his idiom.

The driver’s gaze grew fiery, almost explosive. Even Li Changlu was stunned by Blackie’s flair for words, his mouth hanging open in awe.

Blackie, looking supremely pleased, waited for praise—he wanted to be complimented, desperately so.

He failed to notice the driver swinging his knife toward them.

Fortunately, Li Changlu reacted quickly, grabbing Blackie’s satchel to block the knife.

With a clatter, the bag’s contents spilled everywhere: a comprehensive idiom dictionary, a booklet of beauty tips, miscellaneous odds and ends, glutinous rice, black donkey hooves, a compass, a shovel.

The cab driver grew increasingly bewildered—was this a foreign, black fortune-teller?

Then, when he spotted a battered submachine gun tumble onto the seat, the driver quietly turned away, sheathed his long knife, and said in a genial tone, "Safe and sound, honored passengers. I’m Master Li, your driver. You’ve arrived safely. Check for traffic before you open the door—for your sake and others’."

With that, he let out a strangled sound and promptly fainted.

"Hey, sir, don’t be so dramatic, alright?"

"Come on, don’t do this."

"Stop pretending to faint, it’s not what you think."

"Don’t worry, it’s just a toy—one that sprays water..."

"Get up, I’ll show you!"

Li Changlu realized they’d never be able to explain themselves now. In a panic, he stuffed all of Blackie’s spilled belongings back into the bag, ready to make a run for it.

But before he could gather his senses, there was a dull thwack. Qing had actually knocked the driver out cold—with a Luoyang shovel.

Damn.

Were these two trying to get him killed?

"You never said I couldn’t hit him," Qing said, blinking innocently.

Blink all you like—this was no time for cute acts.

Li Changlu checked the driver—luckily, he was only unconscious. He left the fake necklace as payment and hurried away with the others.

It wasn’t until later that he realized, in all the chaos, he’d left his phone in the cab.

Traveling with these two misfits, even reaching the mission site safely felt like a luxury.

So tiring.

So nerve-wracking.

But at least they’d finally arrived.

Li City wasn’t large, and the Northeastern Gate Market supplied half the city with its food.

Li Changlu realized that E-level missions were nothing like F-level ones.

F-level assignments were straightforward—you were told exactly where the monster was. You just showed up with a sack, handed out some solid punches, either beating the monster or getting beaten yourself, then bagged the creature and dragged it back to the tavern. Done.

But E-level missions? They played dirty.

There was only a mission title, with not a single hint.

What kind of nonsense was this?

The task: Capture the fox demon Azalea.

Location: The market.

Find a fox monster?

"Qing, it’s all up to you now." Li Changlu pinned his hopes on her, knowing she could sense demonic energy.

"Give me the knife."

"No, why do you keep asking for it?"

"Then tell me, where did this shovel and that gun come from?"

"We got them from a fat—"

"Those two over there are acting strange," Li Changlu interrupted, cutting Blackie off just as he was about to explain.

The pair, one big and one small, looked completely out of place.

In the crowd, Li Changlu spotted a man holding a child’s hand, both walking away with their backs to him. The man’s posture was awkward—one hand held out oddly in front, the other clutching the child.

Something was off about the way he walked, too. His steps were weak and unsteady, as if he were exhausted or ill—like a child learning to walk, taking each step with difficulty.

But...

No matter how weak or awkward he was,

No one could pull off that kind of zigzag, snake-like gait—except a monster courting disaster.

Li Changlu boldly guessed the man was definitely the fox demon Azalea. The man’s face was drenched in sweat, pouring down like rain.

It was the dead of winter—unless he was truly frail, where did all that sweat come from? He must be overheating under a fox’s pelt.

The child he held would glance up at him every now and then. The man would turn and look back, and the child’s lips would twitch in a strange, unsettling way.

Hand in hand, the two of them shuffled along in an eerie, silent procession through the bustling market.

It was as out of place as someone ordering coffee and elegantly singing a power ballad in a karaoke bar.

Totally out of place.

And besides, kids are naturally lively—no way would a child just quietly follow an adult like that.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Qing, take a look," Li Changlu urged.

Her real focus was still Li Changlu’s knife, but sensing a child might be in danger, she set that aside.

She concentrated.

"Both of them have demonic energy."