Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

Sofby Deer.

Or rather, we should now call her 'Lena'.

She was dressed in coarse work clothes, and her bright red hair was darkened by cheap dye, making her look no different from an ordinary girl. Only her blood-red eyes were more beautiful than any pearl.

"you......"

As if finding something to lean on, Charlotte revealed her vulnerability, leaning against the moss-covered wall and asking a question in a daze.

As someone unaware of the situation and a completely different person, she naturally had to carefully craft her new identity in front of Xiao Que.

Without responding to the former's inquiry, Sophie kept her eyes fixed on the grove of low trees piled with corpses. As she watched, a figure slowly emerged.

He was a man wearing a doctor's robe with a gold badge of the Medical Council pinned to his collar, but his face was hidden under his hood, revealing only an excessively malicious sneer.

"Two Sequence Nines? It seems you are just like those lowly people who drowned, scapegoats pushed out to be."

"Poor little thing." The man sighed and stepped forward. "Clearly unable to control its own spirit, yet eager to become an item on the auction table. If that's the case, then I'll gladly accept it—"

His words came to an abrupt halt, and the girl's lips parted slightly, uttering a cold, authoritative command.

"No movement allowed in this area."

Both the flow of air and the downward flow of the stream slowed down at this moment, so sound should also be unable to travel.

This was certainly not Charlotte's doing, but rather an extraordinary item worn in Sophomore's hair—a hair flower, a magnificent indigo rose.

Within it flowed a familiar spiritual ripple—the one of Watson, who had once served as the arbitrator.

Instead of using its own unique qualities as material for advancement, the little peacock was shaped into an object, to accompany the mind and body forever.

This seems to have become a kind of sustenance for her, a kind of emotional accumulation. In addition, the transcendent strength of Watson's laws seems to have been preserved, and it can even transcend the gap between sequences to restrain the extraordinary beings at a higher level. The scene before her eyes is an example of this.

However, spirituality is part of the soul, and it is definitely a strange feeling to see one's former self made into an extraordinary object. Charlotte even felt a connection between the two, that the lost spirituality was conveying a longing to return and telling of the instinct for closeness.

This ripple even caused Sophie to turn around in surprise, casting a puzzled look at her.

It is an inquiry, but it is only temporarily put aside for now; it will definitely be investigated in depth in the future.

Chapter 154 No (4k words)

Lowering her eyelashes, Charlotte pressed her fingertips lightly against her chest, her body limp. She had to suppress the instinct for spiritual resurrection and the rising pleasure—at this moment she was simply 'Isabella,' a healer nearing death, and should not react to extraordinary power except to fear and confusion.

With the barrier created by the 'monster' removed, and the erosion of germs no longer suppressed, dark red spots instantly spread upwards from the sides of her neck, writhing like some kind of swarming living creature. Sofby's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, then faded from her sudden suspicion and turned to the man bound by the law.

The indigo rose still rippled, but the undulations were gradually weakening, clearly approaching the limit of its restraint.

Even if one possesses unique qualities, it is impossible to overcome the vast gap between sequences.

"Walk."

In short, Sufby always maintains a cold demeanor when facing strangers, and this has not changed much even now that she has a different identity.

“The law cannot hold him back for long.”

Holding Charlotte's wrist, the little peacock's voice was as cold as the touch of his fingers, and very low.

The shadow beneath the man's hood twisted and swelled, and black liquid seeped from the gold badge with each faltering step, dripping onto the ground and corroding it into honeycomb-like holes.

The malevolent spirit grew stronger, and the indigo rose tucked behind her ear began to curl and turn black at the edges, like a candle flame about to go out. Charlotte could feel Sophie's fingers tightening around her wrist—the touch, more delicate than before, now bore several thin calluses, marks left behind when she was not there.

"Walk."

The second urging was even more urgent than the first. On the opposite bank of the canal, a man in a doctor's robe slowly lowered his back, and the sound of tearing fabric rang out almost at the same moment.

Upon closer inspection, one could see that the person's spine was abnormally bulging, causing the gold badge to spin outwards. Dozens of bulges rose and fell like breathing, exploding into radiating fleshy tendrils the moment the law failed.

"Be careful."

Noticing this, Charlotte suddenly exerted her strength, intending to break free from Sophie's grasp and step between her and the mutant.

This action completely exposed her festering neck to the splattering black slime mold—her calculations were incredibly precise, ensuring that a few drops of the corrosive liquid landed precisely on her neck and shoulder, burning out sizzling wounds.

Before the blood could overflow, it was corroded and evaporated by the acid.

Ah, a slight smile played on her lips; the excruciating pain was so real it was almost pleasurable.

Because of the burning pain, she pretended to stagger due to exhaustion, letting half of her body lean on Su Fubi's shoulder.

"You—" For the first time, a crack appeared on the little peacock's face beneath her pink makeup. She pursed her lips, somewhat resisting and wanting to push him away, but thinking of the current scene, she could only suppress her resistance, grab the former's hand, throw the pocket watch from her waist before the several fleshy whiskers came close, and then withdrew.

This moment of emotion was enough to make up for Charlotte's small appetite before enjoying the main meal.

Looking to the side, the object that had been thrown had already disintegrated in mid-air, emitting a spiritual shriek.

Following the acrid smell, her back slammed heavily against a damp wall, with Sofby's arm positioned behind her to cushion the impact.

This protective posture brought the two of them too close to each other—she could see the rose in the girl's dark red hair, frantically drawing away the wearer's spirituality.

Just as extraordinary characteristics affect living beings, the goodness or evil of a soul can also deviate from the object it creates. And I, undoubtedly, belong to the most incurable category. Therefore, the price of using the law is extremely harsh.

This is really putting Sophie in a difficult position.

"Listen, there's a steam pipe access point 300 meters to the southeast."

It was the soft whisper of a little sparrow approaching.

The effects of the pocket watch were fading, and Charlotte looked over Sophby's shoulder to see that the man's white coat was completely swallowed by the proliferating tumors, forming a horrifying shape somewhere between a sea anemone and a human body.

"Whether you are an insider or not, you must live to preserve the information you have, and that is why I saved you."

The explanation given was extremely brief, consisting only of warm breath exhaled into her ear, carrying a faint smell of rust.

Upon hearing and seeing this, Charlotte deliberately slid her body down a few inches, the red spots spreading to her chin, standing out starkly against her pale skin.

She could sense that her already dying body was gradually slipping out of her control. If she took another step, Isabella, this kind doctor, would be gone forever.

The emotions of life slipping away and the joy of reunion intertwined, yet all that remained were words of apology uttered from the lips.

"I'm sorry to have troubled you, but my health probably doesn't support your idea. If necessary, I can discard it—"

"If you're giving up, then die here, along with your purpose," Sufby shouted, her voice icy, though her arms tightened slightly.

Charlotte almost burst out laughing; the little peacock's contradictory manner was quite endearing.

"Run to the sluice gate, quick!" Without another word, seeing the two staggering closer, the man who addressed Sufby as his companion waved his arm, pointing to the rusty iron ladder, "It leads down from the drainpipe—"

His voice abruptly stopped as a glob of black liquid pierced his throat, sealing the unfinished words forever within his swollen vocal cords. His lifeless body slowly collapsed to its knees, instinctively scratching his neck as clusters of grape-like pustules swelled beneath his skin.

"Damn it."

"go!"

The third urging sound, mixed with the stench of blood, caused the little peacock's slender knuckles to bulge with veins. The continuous use of the law to suppress the high sequence had severely eroded her spirituality.

What a captivating dedication, all for oneself and for the same person.

Can--

Charlotte deliberately made her steps unsteady, 'losing' her grip while climbing the iron ladder. The rusty metal edge cut her palm, causing blood to drip down the railing onto the riverbank like a string of early-blooming red plum blossoms.

Don't blame her for being arrogant. She was confident that she wouldn't be afraid of the pursuers. The Plague Messenger of Sequence Seven was not good at head-on combat. Besides, even now, the body of the healer was not the true body of the mastermind, but just a shell controlled by slime mold.

Having grown to this level in the shadows, how could a rat so easily expose itself to the world, even if there is a risk of information leakage?

Calling him cunning would be too simplistic; calling him cowardly would be more appropriate.

"Hold on tight!" A low, clenched voice came from above. She looked up and saw raindrops glistening on Sufby's taut jawline, sliding down her neck and splashing like ink, turning the mud beneath her into hard stone and wood, into a standing wall.

It is a power belonging to the extraordinary.

It is not an ironclad rule of arbitration, but rather a brushstroke that paints a picture and rewrites reality.

Sequence Nine: 'The Painter'.

During several extraordinary gatherings, Charlotte had also learned about this approach and was certain that her little sparrow was now on this very path.

I'm curious how she managed to gather all the materials and complete the promotion ceremony while being an ordinary person.

Before they could think any further, the barrier drawn with pen and paper was eroded by the acid. Inhuman roars rose again, followed by the sharp whistling of fleshy tendrils tearing through the air, closing in on the two who were powerless to dodge.

Due to her position and lack of observation, when Sofby glanced at the fleshy tendrils, her body couldn't keep up with the feedback from her sight and hearing.

Fortunately, in the blink of an eye, Charlotte, who had planned ahead, pushed the former away, letting the sharp spear pierce her shoulder blade, tearing outwards like the fangs of a hunting dog, along with large chunks of flesh.

Without the skin to cling to, blood immediately soaked through the dark coat. This time, he no longer needed to pretend; cold sweat was already streaming down his forehead.

The little peacock's eyes widened, and a familiar glint flashed in its amber-colored pupils—a harbinger of the bird's impending rage.

"Foolish!" For some reason, seeing the injured person in front of her made Sufby feel inexplicably palpitations and resentment, but her actions were surprisingly gentle compared to her words.

The iron gate of the access panel was just a stone's throw away. Sophoby loosened the already loose bolts with one hand, while supporting Charlotte with the other. The opportunity to escape was within reach, but things never go as planned.

The wriggling flesh swelled from all the drowned corpses, like ants drawn to light, recklessly climbing the riverbank and heading straight for this passage.

In the nick of time, the work-time clock rang, and high-pressure steam gushed from the pipes on both sides. In an instant, the countless dead who had set foot on this land were scalded dry by the intense heat, turning into dried-up, bone-clinging corpses, and returning to hell once more.

Even the cultivated germs could not withstand the scorching heat. With this brief respite, the two managed to escape and fall into the inner maintenance opening, thus avoiding persecution by the mastermind.

Looking around, the pipes were filled with sulfurous steam, and visibility was less than a meter. Sofby lit a small kerosene lamp. In the dim light, Charlotte noticed that her red hair was soaked with sweat, and the cheap dye had smudged around her ears, revealing her original vibrant color.

Without making a sound, the slime mold multiplied merrily within its body, and the red spots had already spread to behind its ears. The puppet's body was truly rotting—what a perfect performance prop.

"Aren't you going to ask anything, as an ordinary person who has never witnessed anything extraordinary?"

The chirping of birds mingled with their intermittent breathing. Charlotte could feel Sophomore's gaze sweeping over her face, a gaze that held scrutiny, doubt, and even more complex emotions.

Just like clenching your knuckles until they turn white, as if asking a question you already know the answer to.

This is both about taking the initiative with the words you use at the beginning and about using the moment to judge whether you are an extraordinary person.

"Should we not care, be afraid, or be curious?"

Charlotte smiled to herself, adjusting her heartbeat to appear weak and erratic.

She lowered her eyelashes again, letting the shadows obscure any possible glint in her eyes. Her voice remained calm, but carried a hint of pained hissing, as if she were suppressing her emotions.

"Will asking get you answers? Will asking change the status quo? Is your safety guaranteed before you speak out?"

Without inquiring about the truth concerning what was being seen or heard, and without caring about her own critical illness, Charlotte simply acted as a benevolent person, subtly expressing her concern for others.

"Having lost the flesh and blood to which he was attached, he cannot catch up for the time being."

"Alright, then to make a long story short, I am Isabella Valenti, a physician who is cooperating in the investigation of the epidemic. Whether you believe me or not is up to you to prove."

Trembling, she took out paper and pen from her pocket and began to write in the dark tunnel. “I will write down what I have observed before, whether it is the source of the epidemic and the isolation measures, or when you arrived, and even when facing such a monster, you were willing to take me away. That is enough to show that our purposes have overlapped.”

Excessive blood loss gradually caused the pupils to dilate.

"Whether it is or isn't, given my condition, I can't go any further. I hope you can deliver this investigation report to the orphanage; consider it my final contribution to them—"

"Bear it."

She interrupted him coldly, not letting the conversation continue. Sophie acted as if she hadn't heard the previous instructions at all, and simply tore open the hem of her shirt to wrap tightly the wound through which the fleshy tendrils had pierced.

The fabric pressed into the wound, and Charlotte gasped in response. She watched the girl's trembling eyelashes—drips of water, whether sweat or condensation, clung to them, fluttering like butterflies with each breath.

The little peacock clearly recognized that the festering wounds this body was experiencing were identical to those of the corpses on the riverbank, yet it stubbornly continued to bandage the wounds, which were destined to be useless.

"I don't have time to listen to all sorts of technical jargon, and I would never make a pointless sacrifice for a dead person."

Holding her wrist, in the dim light, the emotions surging in Sophie's eyes were exceptionally clear, like the sea before a storm, calm on the surface but with undercurrents that could tear a person apart.

The task assigned by the police department was merely to act as an assistant and conduct a basic investigation into the epidemic. However, Sophie was unwilling to follow the rules and receive the least reward in the process of delegating power and intelligence. She had to go further and do it as quickly as possible.

Therefore, one must come here in person, even to face directly the extraordinary ones of that sequence.

When you are weak, you are at the mercy of others; when you are powerless, you are powerless. She did not want to experience that moment of gunfire again.

This chance encounter was purely accidental, but gazing at this completely different face, at the calmness unlike that of Watson, at the fragile life slipping away from my palm once more, the sorrow of the past surges up again like a tide.

They were complete strangers, and she was acting out of kindness, so she should have agreed. But for some reason, some words just slipped out of her lips.

"Live on. Only the living can pursue the truth and witness the rewards of their efforts, instead of dying like a pile of dust and thinking they have achieved something."

It was a straightforward statement, a long-standing grievance, and unspoken words from her heart. She had not forgotten the strange feeling when that hair flower was near the person in her eyes.

"Can I still leave?"

"I'm afraid it won't work..." Charlotte shook her head weakly, letting her body slowly slide down the tube wall.

This was a carefully designed pose—it made him appear both dying and conveniently exposed the arteries in his neck within Sofby's reach.

In the darkness, she heard the girl's breathing quicken. For a moment, she almost thought Sophoby would grab her by the throat and force her to reveal the truth.

But in the end, the little peacock simply took a deep breath and, in the darkness, gently grasped her wrist—no longer the businesslike touch of before, but a protective one.

Carefully, for fear of losing it.