Eighty-seven’s words were not without merit.

Sure enough, the moment the vehicle entered the city limits, all sorts of colorful figures lining the streets stared intently at the car.

Through the tinted windows, we could even see thin, dark beggar children who, after watching us for a long time from afar, darted away in a flash.

This brought to mind my encounters in Lhasa, including the little shoe-shiner boy when I accompanied Laba to deposit gold and silver eye beads, and the group of Germans who deliberately tried to cut us off at the traffic lights.

It was highly likely that among these roadside characters were spies gathering intelligence.

But just which ‘immortals’ had arrived this time? Although Linzhi was a famous tourist area, its level of development simply couldn't compare to any city of similar standing in the mainland.

The most famous Linzhi Square was merely paved with concrete, not even featuring floor tiles.

Scattered around were petty vendors, rickshaws, and faded billboards.

Even though it was touted as the "Little (Jiangnan)" of Tibet, its prosperity was decidedly limited.

This, in turn, led to us drawing even more attention.

Because Eighty-seven abandoned his low-key approach and instructed Thirty-eight to drive the SUV in a complete circle around the city twice before finally allowing him to take us to the Xiangpala Hotel, which had a notoriously good reputation in Linzhi.

Linzhi certainly had its share of nice cars, but people driving vehicles that looked battered and yet swaggered around the city twice were rare; such vehicles were even rarer.

Thus, when someone appeared at our door saying they had followed the SUV, none of us showed the slightest surprise.

Eighty-seven, composed as ever, greeted the robust, dark-skinned Tibetan man: “Please, have a seat.

Would you care for some yak butter tea?” I glanced around the room—it was just an ordinary hotel triple room—where on earth would there be yak butter tea? The man’s Mandarin was extremely stiff.

He pulled an envelope from inside his coat, held it with both hands, and struggled out, “Peo...

ple...

sent...

you...” Eighty-seven moved to take it, but the man slightly shifted, shaking his head, indicating it wasn't for him.

Eighty-seven reacted immediately, pointed at me, and asked him, “Him?” The man looked at me blankly.

I privately speculated that I didn't know anyone in Linzhi city, so if this man was indeed looking for me, it must be someone from Zhuoma Yangjin’s contingent.

So, I introduced myself first: “I am Luo Lian.” The man’s face lit up with relief, and he immediately walked over respectfully, bent down to hand me the envelope, then bowed again, backing away without turning until he reached the doorway before turning his head to leave.

Judging by the etiquette, he must be one of Zhuoma Yangjin’s people.

I wondered what schemes this persistent shadow intended now.

As I pondered, I casually opened the letter.

It contained only a few sparse Chinese characters: Arrive in three days.

Zhuoma Yangjin.

Was she coming to stir up trouble again? My mind instantly clouded over.

I passed the letter to Eighty-seven, who was craning his neck to look, his face sporting a seemingly guileless smile.

He took it without hesitation, glanced at it twice, then tossed it to Forty-three: “Not until three days from now.

I wonder if that will be enough time.” Forty-three replied dutifully, “It should be enough time.

Besides, there shouldn’t be anyone else here for the moment, only her subordinates and our own people.” Eighty-seven nodded, “That’s for the best.” Saying this, he laughed heartily, immensely pleased with himself.

“Haha, at least we managed to get ahead of the game this time.” I kept feeling uneasy.

Things were too calm; we hadn't encountered any danger, which was unlike our usual style.

Either a massive storm was brewing behind this tranquility, or even the divinely calculating and all-seeing Eighty-seven hadn't anticipated it.

I wanted to consult Old Li privately, but Eighty-seven was being thoroughly obnoxious, forcing us all into this triple room, leaving no opportunity for a private word with Old Li.

This, too, must have been his intention.

Since Zhuoma Yangjin was coming, we had three days to rest.

I wouldn't waste time worrying about Eighty-seven; whatever he wanted to do was his business.

After all, with Zhuoma Yangjin's people here, he wouldn't dare do anything to me.

Since I was full and rested, I decided to take a long nap and properly conserve my energy first.

Old Li didn't argue; seeing me flop onto the bed, he threw himself down beside me and was soon snoring loudly.

I was exhausted and drifted into a deep sleep shortly after.

...I slept so soundly that I woke up near midnight.

The room was filled with the high and low pitches of snoring.

Although the curtains were drawn, faint ambient light seeped in from outside, and by the window stood a figure, motionless.

I snapped my eyes open and was instantly startled, quickly demanding, “Who’s there!” while nudging Old Li beside me.

Old Li woke up alertly, rolling over and sitting up, demanding, “Who is it!” Only Forty-three and Thirty-eight remained completely still, sleeping like logs.

Trouble! I cursed inwardly, preparing to act, when the figure by the window spoke in a low, slow drawl: “It’s me...

Eighty-seven.” As he spoke, he walked over.

Under the dim light, I saw it was indeed him.

I chided him, “It’s late at night, why aren’t you sleeping properly? You scared me standing there!” Eighty-seven smiled apologetically, his face unable to hide his exhaustion.

He then waved his hand in a silencing gesture: “Don’t wake them.

They’re too tired.

I’ll stand guard a bit longer, then go to sleep.

You two can take over.” I thought to myself, Isn't this overreacting a bit? There aren't likely to be any enemy agents here! But I didn’t show it and didn’t want to exchange pleasantries.

I just said, “Fine, we’ll sleep a bit longer.

Wake us up when you’re done.” Eighty-seven nodded.

Old Li and I immediately flopped back to sleep.

...Eighty-seven never called us to take over guard duty because I only woke up again around ten the next morning.

Forty-three and Thirty-eight had disappeared somewhere.

Old Li was washing up nearby, looking like he hadn't been awake long either, while Eighty-seven lay sound asleep on his bed.

Knock, knock, knock...

Someone knocked again.

I sleepily opened the door to find the same robust Tibetan man from yesterday.

He looked delighted to see me and pulled out another envelope from his coat, then retreated with customary deference.

Still groggy, I opened the letter, finding the same handwriting as yesterday: Danger.

Two unknown parties are coming.

Do not leave the room.

Wait for me to arrive before doing anything.

Zhuoma Yangjin.

Old Li quickly came over and shut the door, asking me, “What’s going on?” I tossed the letter to him: “See for yourself.

Zhuoma Yangjin again.

So annoying!” Old Li’s face suddenly showed a look of envy, and he asked in a low voice, “So annoying? If you can see her, you’d be annoyed? You’d be annoyed if you never saw her again.” I detected an underlying meaning in his tone and asked, “What do you mean?” Old Li replied, “Nothing.

We just won’t go out today, then.” After reading it, he casually tossed the letter next to Eighty-seven.

Eighty-seven, who had been sleeping soundly moments before, immediately opened his eyes, snatched the letter, brought it close to read twice, then handed it back to me: “I didn’t expect her sources to be so well-informed.” With that, he turned over and resumed his deep sleep.

Two more groups of unknown provenance had arrived.

I was even starting to feel eager—ideally, it would be the factions led by Matias and Yamamoto.

We had suffered losses at their hands several times due to being outnumbered; now was the chance to strike back for revenge.

But the thought brought a fresh wave of worry.