Scarlet Descent
Ch. 65 - Feifei is the True Goddess

"Brother Wei, over here..."

As soon as Wei Wei entered the café, he saw Ye Feifei sitting in a secluded booth. She had already ordered coffee for him and was waving enthusiastically when she spotted him. When Wei Wei approached, she immediately pulled out a napkin with a drawing of a tattoo on it, sketched from memory. She nervously asked, "Quick, look—is this what it looks like?"

At that moment, her face radiated excitement, as if she were silently asking for praise: Am I amazing or what? Compliment me already!

Given her personality, it was rare for anyone to ask her for help growing up. It was even rarer for her to not mess things up...

"Hoo..."

Wei Wei quickly took the napkin and examined it closely.

The tattoo sketch on the napkin was drawn based on Ye Feifei's memory. Although her drawing skills were... quite poor, the tattoo's design did share some stylistic similarities with the Blood-Flesh Rose  he was searching for. However, many crucial details seemed to be missing.

Even Wei Wei wasn’t entirely sure, but he felt a surge of excitement nonetheless. Staring at the sketch for a long time, he finally asked Ye Feifei:

"How did you come across this?"

"...I was just patrolling as usual."

"Since you asked me to keep an eye out for this, I've been paying attention whenever I can—just in case I come across something."

"I figured it might be a tattoo, so I started walking around places where delinquent girls hang out..."

Ye Feifei gestured animatedly as she recounted the events leading up to her discovery. Her storytelling included her reasoning and analysis—tinged with a bit of pride—which left Wei Wei torn between wanting to cover his face in exasperation and being impressed by her effort. It felt like an honor student watching a struggling classmate try their best. But as she continued describing the white-suited man she encountered, Wei Wei grew increasingly intrigued.

He began interrupting her frequently, asking her to describe the man's actions during their encounter—his smile, every subtle change in his expression, and even the faint feelings she experienced at that moment.

Even with Ye Feifei’s excellent memory, there were limits to how much detail she could recall. Once she ran out of information to share, Wei Wei nodded thoughtfully and replayed the sequence of events in his mind. After piecing everything together, his initially disappointed heart started pounding with excitement again.

Suppressing the joy threatening to break through his composure, he stared blankly at Ye Feifei for a moment before suddenly raising his hand and slapping himself across the face.

"What’s wrong with you?" Ye Feifei jumped in surprise.

"Feifei..."

Wei Wei’s gaze softened as he spoke gently: "Have I ever told you that you’re a goddess?"

Ye Feifei quickly shook her head.

Wei Wei grasped her hands excitedly and said earnestly: "Well, you are now..." Meanwhile...

Wang Mo sat in a bar, rubbing his still-aching back while muttering to himself:

"What rotten luck..."

"It’s so rare to meet such a pretty girl—who would’ve thought she’d be so wary? And on top of that..."

"...her skills are ridiculously good."

Just thinking about how he had been thrown onto the ground in front of so many people made him feel utterly humiliated. As the bar owner and someone admired by countless infatuated young women, Wang Mo had always prided himself on being elegant and composed.

"It’s a shame I didn’t manage to rest my hand on her shoulder—if I had succeeded, I wouldn’t be drinking alone right now."

Reflecting on how perfectly she fit his criteria yet slipped through his fingers filled him with regret.

Despite possessing extraordinary talents himself, Wang Mo’s abilities required certain conditions to activate. For example, he needed to breach someone’s personal space through flirtatious or provocative gestures without triggering their defenses first.

To him, this process carried an air of elegance—a ritualistic quality. Of course, success depended on actually making contact; getting thrown over someone’s shoulder halfway through clearly didn’t count.

Given how alert she was—and considering the public setting—he couldn’t resort to more forceful methods either. Perhaps he needed more practice...

After downing his drink in one gulp, Wang Mo headed into a private room within the bar. The walls were lined with large mirrors reflecting every angle of his appearance. In one corner stood several mannequins posed in various positions—some holding handbags with hands clasped together; others mimicking pedestrians or seated figures.

The room suddenly felt lively despite being filled only with lifeless props.

Wang Mo removed his hat and hung it on a rack before slowing his pace and walking forward gracefully.

"Nope—too effeminate..."

He critiqued himself in the mirror before stepping back to adjust his posture and trying again.

"Too fast."

"Too stiff—it’ll make people wary..."

Over and over again, Wang Mo practiced walking while tweaking every detail of his movements. Even something as simple as taking a few steps became an exercise repeated countless times.

Next came interacting with one of the mannequins—a shy-looking figure holding a handbag that resembled the posture of the girl on her electric scooter earlier.

With restrained yet deliberate steps, Wang Mo approached the mannequin. He flashed a slightly bashful yet undeniably handsome smile before casually extending his hand toward its shoulder as if by accident—but oh-so-naturally.

His body turned fluidly into position until they stood face-to-face within twenty centimeters of each other—a calculated distance designed to create subtle tension between intrusion and intimacy.

In that instant:

The abruptness of resting his hand on her shoulder...

The pressure from leaning closer...

The impact of seeing his face up close—all these elements had to harmonize perfectly within mere moments...

Through relentless practice and fine-tuning each gesture down to its subtlest nuance...

Wang Mo’s movements grew increasingly polished—oozing charm with every action.

Though blessed by fortune himself... being confined within this city for so long had dulled some of Wang Mo’s edge—or perhaps left him jaded? But no matter—his time was nearly up.

Once he completed feeding that thing, freedom awaited him at last...

"They say powerful individuals like me can even own estates outside city limits—with servants at their beck and call."

"Perhaps such a life isn’t far off for me either..."

Brimming with anticipation for what lay ahead... As night fell over Scrap Iron City...

Stepping out onto brightly lit streets after hours spent honing his craft... Wang Mo exuded renewed confidence. Donning his black hat once more while spritzing himself lightly with custom-blended cologne... he walked elegantly into bustling nightlife scenes brimming with opportunity.

Spotting a waitress carrying drinks nearby... Wang Mo turned toward her with an easy smile.

Caught off guard by his gaze alone—the waitress froze mid-step as if forgetting what she was about to say; her eyes locked onto nothing but that smile...

Gliding closer effortlessly... Wang Mo picked up one of her glasses while resting another hand gently upon her shoulder.

The waitress trembled slightly under his touch...

Sliding down toward her abdomen briefly before withdrawing discreetly... Wang Mo checked whether everything went smoothly before flashing another satisfied grin.

It felt smooth.

When he walked onto the street, gazing at the brightly lit city outside, he felt like the king of life.

In this world, with so many people striving and struggling, how many of them were doing so just to have a woman stay by their side?

As he walked down the street, how many women were there that men could only dream of but could never touch?

But for him, none of this was a problem.

He was a predator, and in this city, everywhere was his hunting ground...

...

...

"Hmm?"

Just as he was indulging in these thoughts, he suddenly froze slightly and noticed a man standing across the street.

The man leaned against an old, battered Jeep, holding a pancake roll in his hand, eating while smiling at him.

Wang Mo suddenly felt a little uncomfortable.

Focusing his gaze, he waited for the traffic on the street to pass, but when it did, both the man and the vehicle had vanished without a trace.

"What the hell?"

"..."

"..."

"Sequence 8: Love Demon..."

In a corner, Wei Wei suppressed the faint excitement in his heart and rubbed his face hard to confirm two things.

First, this was indeed a wild Transcendent.

Second, all that talk about Yuan Guaizi and some Intelligence Department goddess was nonsense.

Ye Feifei was truly divine...

From now on, anyone who dared to say Ye Feifei was half-baked would get slapped... That’s exactly why he had slapped himself earlier.

But stepping back to analyze it, Ye Feifei accidentally noticed that the tattoo did indeed differ significantly from the Blood-Flesh Rose he had been searching for. If such a pattern appeared on an ordinary person, it would basically have no investigative value.

Yet coincidentally, it appeared on a Love Demon Transcendent. Now that makes things interesting...

Was it really a coincidence or were there other factors at play?

He pressed his wildly beating heart and quietly followed along.

He needed to have a proper talk with him...

But with the current evidence and speculation, it wasn’t enough for him to have an open-hearted conversation about secrets with him just yet.

He needed an opportunity...

The Foundation had strict regulations regarding its investigators’ behavior: wild demon ability users living within the Spiritual Barrier were allowed as long as they abided by laws and regulations. Investigators were prohibited from abusing their authority to harass or oppress them. If the Foundation or local official organizations received related reports, inspectors would form an investigation team to look into the matter.

This rule had been established after the Second Secret War to protect disbanded church personnel and neutral wild Transcendents.

When teaching this lesson, the Instructor had knocked on the blackboard:

"Bonus question:"

"It’s obvious—this rule is telling us we must never give them an opportunity to report us."

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