At the Hospital- At 10 am
The post-operative ward was a place of sterile silence, broken only by the rhythmic, mechanical hum of heart monitors and the soft hiss of oxygen. Late morning light fought to brighten the dull grey walls, illuminating the rows of beds where Le Mei's security team lay. They were a map of bandages and bruises—strong men reduced to stillness by a night they couldn't explain.
Beside each bed, family members sat in a state of exhausted vigil, their eyes red-rimmed and hollow. The heavy double doors swung open, and Le Mei entered. Beside her, Jiang Min walked with a tablet in hand, her expression unreadable.
Mei's typical vibrant energy was gone, replaced by a heavy, somber presence. She scanned the room, her gaze lingering on every bandaged limb. Min peeled away to speak with a doctor at the nurses' station, their voices a low murmur as they reviewed the charts.
After a moment, Min returned to Mei's side. "They are out of danger, Le Zǒng," she whispered. "The injuries were severe—bone deep—but they've been stabilized. The doctor says they need at least ten days of absolute rest." Min glanced at the families, noting the mix of relief and the unspoken fear of medical bills in their eyes. She looked at Mei and saw the weight of regret settling onto her friend's shoulders.
Mei stepped toward the center of the ward. She didn't raise her voice, but her presence commanded the room instantly. Every head turned; every murmur died away.
"I am profoundly grateful for your courage," Mei began, her voice soft but carrying a sincere, ringing clarity. "You stood in the path of a darkness you didn't ask for to protect me. I am humbled by that sacrifice."
She paused, making eye contact with the wives, mothers, and fathers sitting by the beds.
"Because you are important to me—not just as employees, but as family—I have settled all hospital fees in full," she announced. "Furthermore, the company will be issuing each of you a bonus equivalent to three months' salary today. Focus on your recovery. Your positions will be waiting for you the moment you are ready to return."
The atmosphere in the room shifted like a breaking fever. The heavy shroud of financial stress evaporated, replaced by stunned silence and then a wave of tearful, whispered thanks.
Mei didn't stay to bask in the gratitude. She offered a final, respectful nod to the room, turned on her heel, and walked back toward the corridor.
As they reached the elevators, the clinical scent of the hospital began to fade. Min glanced at her boss, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips. "You certainly know how to win people's hearts, Le Zǒng. That move just guaranteed you a lifetime of loyalty."
Mei looked down at her hands—the hands that had held a cursed blade only hours before. A flicker of genuine sadness crossed her face, a brief crack in her "Goddess" mask, before her eyes hardened with business-like efficiency.
"Loyalty is the only currency that matters when the world starts to fall apart, Min," Mei replied, her voice regaining its iron edge. "Now, let's get to the office. We have a war to manage."
At Le's Empire
By 2:45 PM, the sun had begun its descent, casting long, sharp shadows across the opulent lobby of the LE Headquarters. The space was a masterpiece of glass and polished marble, humming with the quiet, efficient energy of a multibillion-dollar empire.
Le Mei walked across the expansive floor, her heels clicking a rhythmic, commanding beat. She was surrounded by a small cluster of department heads, her voice calm and professional as she directed the afternoon's strategy. Behind her, Jiang Min followed, her eyes scanning the lobby with the silent vigilance of a hawk.
The glass doors slid open, and two men entered with purposeful strides. Zhang Wei, a senior board member known for his viperous tongue, led the way, followed closely by Chen, a man whose loyalty was as thin as his smile.
Spotting Mei, Zhang's eyes lit up with a predatory gleam. He broke away from his path, intercepting her group with an intent that felt like a physical strike. The surrounding employees immediately bowed, their expressions flickering with nervous respect. With a single, subtle wave of her hand, Mei dismissed her staff; they vanished into the corridors like mist, leaving the titans to face one another.
"Le Zǒng," Zhang began, his voice dripping with a sickly-sweet concern that didn't reach his eyes. His mouth twisted into a thin, sarcastic sneer. "Are you truly alright? We heard… rumors of a most distressing incident last night."
Chen stepped up beside him, his lips curling into a mocking smirk. "Indeed. You really could have taken the day to rest. We would have been more than happy to take the weight of the company off your shoulders for a while."
The implication was clear: they knew she had been attacked, and they were already measuring her for a coffin. Chen's gaze turned briefly sacred and sharp—a look of hidden malice—but Zhang remained focused on his target.
Mei's radiant smile didn't waver. It was a masterpiece of corporate composure, though her eyes held the glint of a razor's edge.
"The news certainly spreads faster than I expected," Mei replied, her voice cool and steady. "But I assure you, Zhang Shūshu, I am perfectly fine. It takes more than a few shadows to keep me from my work."
Her sheer confidence was a slap to their faces. The fact that she looked completely unharmed—radiant, even—visibly infuriated them. Zhang's jaw tightened, his face reddening as he searched for a retort.
"Excuse us."
A new voice, low and authoritative, cut through the tension.
Two men in plainclothes moved into the circle. Detective Shan, sharp and unyielding, held up a leather wallet to reveal his gold badge. Beside him, the younger Officer Yang looked at Mei with a mix of curiosity and intimidation.
"We are police officers," Shan stated, his gaze locking onto Mei's.
Min immediately stepped forward, her protective instincts flaring as she prepared to intercept the authorities. However, Mei raised a hand—a subtle, firm signal that stopped Min in her tracks. The officers didn't miss the exchange; it was a silent display of absolute command that said more about Le Mei's power than any title could.
Detective Shan looked past the scowling board members and addressed the woman in the suit directly.
"We need to speak with you, Le Zǒng. Now."
At The Police Station - 4 pm
The interrogation room was a concrete box of sterile cold. A single metal table sat bolted to the floor, separating two chairs under the harsh, humming glow of fluorescent lights.
Le Mei sat with her spine perfectly straight, her hands folded neatly on the table. In this grim setting, her charcoal power suit and radiant skin felt like a defiance of the room's misery. She didn't look like a suspect; she looked like she was waiting for a board meeting to begin.
Behind the one-way glass in the observation room, Officer Yang shifted uncomfortably. "She's too calm, Senior Shan. Look at her. Most people are sweating by now." Detective Shan didn't take his eyes off the glass. "She's a CEO, Yang. They're trained to breathe through pressure. Let's see how well that training holds up when the laws of physics are brought into question."
Shan entered the room, the heavy door thudding shut behind him. He sat opposite Mei, placing a small tablet on the metal surface. With a sharp tap, he activated the screen.
"Le Zǒng, we're going to review the security footage we recovered from the alleyway," Shan said, his voice flat and demanding.
The grainy video flickered to life. It showed Le Mei retreating, her breath visible in the cold air, until she hit the dead end. The wave of thugs followed, their pipes glinting. Then, the head goon stepped forward, his mouth moving in a silent shout. Just as he reached for her—the screen erupted into a chaotic swarm of black and white static.
Shan paused the frame on the blackout. He leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers. "What exactly were you doing there, Le Zǒng? And why were those men chasing you?"
Mei met his gaze without a hint of a flinch. She offered a polite, practiced smile—the kind used to dismiss a minor shareholder.
"I was ambushed by a random group of thugs," she replied smoothly. "They attacked without provocation. My bodyguards immediately moved to defend me, and in the chaos, I saw an opening. I ran. A few men chased me into that alley, but I managed to lose them in the dark and find my way home."
"Did you report this 'ambush'?" Shan asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.
"Of course, Officer. I've already filed a formal complaint detailing the assault. You'll find the records are quite thorough."
Shan leaned in closer, his expression hardening. "Le Zǒng, let's look at the facts. Every one of your bodyguards is in the hospital with injuries that look like they were caused by a grenade. The alleyway is pulverized—the property damage is in the millions. The goons? They've vanished without a trace. Not a single body, not a single witness. And conveniently, the cameras overloaded the second the 'chaos' started."
He paused, gesturing to her pristine suit and flawless face. "Yet you claim you 'ran off' and returned home without a single scratch on your body. Not a bruise. Not a speck of dust."
Mei leaned back slightly, a subtle, charming glint dancing in her eyes. It was the look of someone who held all the cards and knew the opponent was bluffing.
"I suppose I was simply very lucky, Officer," she said softly. "As you can see, I returned home entirely unharmed. Perhaps fate was on my side last night."
Shan stared at her, his face a mask of cold, professional frustration. Every instinct he possessed told him she was lying—that she was the center of the storm that had leveled that alley. But as he looked at the radiant, untouchable woman across from him, he realized he had no weapon. No blood, no weapon, and no evidence.
Only a story that didn't add up, and a woman who refused to trip over her own lies.
The interrogation room felt even smaller once the detective left. Le Mei sat in the sudden silence, her expression quietly contemplative. She didn't look at the one-way glass or the camera in the corner; she simply waited, a statue of calm amidst the cold, sterile concrete.
Outside the cabin, the heavy atmosphere of the police station swirled. Her lawyer—a man whose reputation for winning impossible cases was matched only by the astronomical fees he charged—was finishing a low-toned conversation with Detective Shan. Officer Yang stood nearby, looking back and forth between the two men, his brow furrowed in frustration.
The lawyer checked his watch, offered a final, professional nod to the officers, and pushed open the heavy door to the interrogation room.
"Le Zǒng," he said, his voice cut through the silence. "It's done." Mei looked up, her eyes clear.
"Min covered every angle before you even sat down in that chair," the lawyer continued, stepping into the room. "She provided a solid, digital alibi—GPS logs, witness statements from your staff, even footage of you entering your residence while that alley was supposedly being 'pulverized.' They have nothing. No weapon, no forensic link, and no standing to hold you."
He offered a brief, satisfied smile. "You're free to go." "Thank you. Good work," Mei replied. Her voice was steady, but there was a faint, weary grace in her tone.
The lawyer nodded, his phone already buzzing in his pocket. He was answering it before he even cleared the doorway, his mind already moving to the next crisis.
Left alone for a fleeting second, Le Mei's shoulders finally dropped. The rigid, "Goddess" posture softened, and a long, slow breath escaped her lips. The mask didn't slip, but it loosened. She stood up, smoothing the front of her charcoal suit—a suit that had never seen a drop of blood—and walked out of the station.
Le Mei stepped out onto the main road, the humid Shanghai air filling her lungs. For a brief moment, the weight of the interrogation and the secret of the Sword felt lighter. She pulled out her phone, her thumb sliding across the screen to call the one person who truly understood the tightrope she walked.
"Oh, My Great Le Zong Has Called Me!" Min's voice exploded through the speaker, playful and mocking. "After creating such a massive mess and then immediately sorting out another one... truly, you are a marvel."
Mei couldn't help it; a genuine, hearty laugh escaped her lips, drawing curious glances from nearby pedestrians. "What can I say, Min? It seems I just can't control my nature."
"I noticed," Min chuckled, the sound of a luxury engine purring in the background. "Wherever you go, chaos follows like a lost puppy. Do you have any plans to cause less trouble for us mortals in the next twenty-four hours? I'd like to actually sleep."
"Where are you?" Mei asked, her eyes scanning the busy street. "I'm standing right outside the precinct."
"Look in front of you, Boss."
Mei looked up. Across the four lanes of swarming traffic, Min was leaning against a sleek, black BMW. She looked sharp and composed, waving a hand with a triumphant grin. Mei smiled, hanging up the phone, and waited for the traffic signal to change.
Then, the world ended.
A terrifying, concussive "BLAST" ripped through the air. It wasn't the sound of an explosion—it was the sound of reality tearing apart. The shockwave hit Mei like a physical wall, throwing her backward across the pavement. Her ears rang with a high-pitched whine, and the smell of ozone and burnt rubber filled the air.
Mei scrambled to her feet, ignoring the stinging cuts on her arms and the blood trickling from her temple. Her eyes were fixed on the opposite side of the road.
The spot where Min had been standing was a ruin. The black BMW was a twisted skeleton of metal, its glass shattered into a million diamonds. The sidewalk had been gouged out as if by an invisible wrecking ball. Screams began to rise from the surrounding crowd, but Mei's focus was singular.
"MIN!"
Min lay several yards from the epicenter of the blast. She was alive, but her tailored suit was shredded, and she was shaking violently. With a guttural gasp, Min pushed herself into a trembling crouch.
Suddenly, a strange sound cut through the chaos—a wet, creeping noise, accompanied by a heavy, pained grunting. It sounded like something large was dragging itself across the asphalt, yet the street looked empty.
Fear, cold and primal, seized Min. She forced herself to run, her heels clicking erratically on the cracked pavement. But the creeping followed. Closer. Faster.
An unseen force slammed into Min's shoulder, sending her tumbling to the ground with a cry of agony. She scrambled up, spinning in circles, her eyes wide with terror. She saw nothing, yet she felt a towering, icy presence directly in front of her.
As a mortal, her senses were just beginning to pierce the veil—perceiving not a shape, but the absence of light. The air in front of her distorted, swirling with a demonic, hungry malice.
The unseen entity raised a clawed limb, prepared to strike the final blow.
In a flash of movement that blurred the eyes, Le Mei was there.
She didn't run; she manifested. Interposing herself between her friend and the void, Mei reached into the air. In a shower of golden sparks and white-hot heat, the "Dragon Sword "appeared in her hand.
CLANG!
The Magnificent Sword met the invisible strike in a spray of spiritual embers. The force of the impact cracked the ground beneath Mei's feet, but she didn't budge. Her eyes, usually so calm and corporate, were now burning with the fierce, golden light of the curse.
"Get back, Min," Mei hissed through gritted teeth, the blade humming with a lethal, protective hunger. "This one belongs to me."