Chapter 137: The Splitting Plan

Compared to Ji Li’s group, the atmosphere in the cab carrying Cui Yanqing and Mei Sheng was far more oppressive.

Almost no one spoke. Faces were tense with fear. Even the driver seemed more serious than the one driving Ji Li’s car.

This taxi was filled entirely with rookies—not a single veteran staff among them.

Their luck was bitter: their very first mission was a joint reception, alongside Ji Li and Fang Shenyan of all people.

Even Ji Li himself found this mission difficult and thorny—let alone these newcomers.

The reason Chi Rou and the others had insisted on eating hotpot wasn’t sheer carelessness. More than that, they feared this trip would end badly. If the mission began, they might never again taste an authentic Chinese hotpot.

Perhaps only in the next life.

In that heavy silence, the pressure grew like a weight dropping from the sky, pressing harder and harder on every heart.

Only Cui Yanqing’s eyes were turning constantly. He kept pondering one question.

If handled correctly, he might actually have a chance to survive this mission—and even contend for one of those rare Sin Artifacts.

Sitting alone in the front, he first studied the faces of the three behind him in the rearview mirror. Then, gritting his teeth, he let out an intentional sigh.

The sudden noise broke the stillness.

Chi Rou jumped, rubbing her face hard before grumbling, “What’s with you?”

Seeing all three eyes on him, Cui Yanqing sighed again, this time with deeper meaning.

“What do you think of the manager?”

At first, it sounded harmless. But listened to closely, it carried a trace of dissatisfaction.

Mei Sheng’s eyes flickered at that, though she kept staring out the window, neither turning nor answering—only listening.

Chi Rou’s face first showed fear, then shifted into disguise. She tapped the seatback lightly.

“I really don’t get our manager. We still had hours left—plenty of time to finish hotpot! But he wouldn’t even give us that chance.”

She wasn’t truly angry about hotpot, only about Ji Li’s style—too absolute, too ruthless.

In the team, his word was law. Whatever he said, the rest had to obey. He gave no one else even the chance to speak.

Of course, she dared not voice such thoughts outright. So she spoke of hotpot instead.

Idiot. Mei Sheng neither moved nor replied. She clearly wanted no part in their talk, but in her heart, she cursed once.

Idiot.

Even Cui Yanqing, who had asked the question, silently cursed Chi Rou as well. But he was pleased. To achieve his goal, he needed teammates.

His insult wasn’t about Chi Rou’s lack of intelligence. It was about people like her—useless, yet still demanding a voice. Even he despised them.

But outwardly, he couldn’t let it show.

This foolish, easily-manipulated woman, already dissatisfied with Ji Li, would soon be completely split from the team by his hand.

Of course Cui Yanqing wanted to stand on his own.

He was shrewd, adept at reading the tides.

From Ji Li and Fang Shenyan’s attitudes, it was obvious the veterans looked down on rookies like them.

And from Cui Yanqing’s description, both men were cold, merciless killers.

If Cui Yanqing wanted to survive, he needed leverage. That meant building his own team, isolating Ji Li.

As fellow newcomers, they were Ji Li’s weakness. If Cui Yanqing could lead them away—

Then Ji Li would lose all cannon fodder. Against the Fourth Branch he’d be weaker, and against the ghosts, more vulnerable still.

That would give Cui Yanqing real bargaining power for the Sin Artifacts.

This was his calculation. He had already studied each rookie. Chi Rou was the easiest to stir up; Gao Liangping lacked initiative and was simple-minded.

Kondo Sei stuck too close to Ji Li, harder to sway. That left Mei Sheng.

Especially after witnessing the tension between her and Ji Li, he was certain she too could be won over.

With these few on his side, Cui Yanqing believed he could not be defeated.

“Ji Li and Fang Shenyan are the veterans of the Seventh Branch. They’re powerful—even the Fourth Branch can’t match them.”

His words were deliberate. He never disparaged Ji Li and Fang directly; instead, he praised their strength.

Gao Liangping sighed, murmuring, “A pity such men treat other people’s lives like dirt.”

“Exactly! I even heard Fang Shenyan killed the very person who saved him. I’m terrified just being around them—what if I don’t die to the ghost, but die at their hands instead?”

Chi Rou’s words struck perfectly at the rookies’ fears.

Right into Cui Yanqing’s hands. He cheered inwardly—it was time to add fuel to the fire.

“In my view, if we want to survive, we must seize the Sin Artifacts in this mission. Only then will we have enough say.

Only then can Ji Li and the others neither look down on us nor sacrifice us!”

At that, Chi Rou fell silent, realizing her own outburst had gone too far. But the shifting emotions on her face betrayed her.

Cui Yanqing noted it keenly. Sneaking a glance at Gao Liangping, he nodded inwardly.

Gao Liangping’s face was blank, as if unmoved, while Chi Rou wavered in hesitation.

Only Mei Sheng remained perfectly still—but Cui Yanqing caught a subtle shift in her profile.

One final push—just a spark of opportunity. And Cui Yanqing knew Ji Li himself would deliver it.

“Sonset Brige, here!”

The driver uncle knew a bit of broken Chinese. Though awkward, the way he cut the engine made the meaning clear enough.

Cui Yanqing turned his head toward the window. Sunset Bridge was truly beautiful. Even now, at nearly 10:50 p.m., it blazed with light.

Japanese men and women strolled past on both sides of the taxi, chatting and laughing. In snowy Kyoto of November, too many lingered, unwilling to leave. Rows of Japanese-style houses stretched down the street.

Beyond the stone-paved road flowed a narrow stream. Candles glowed along both banks, their yellow light warming the snow, a picture of gentle beauty.

As Cui Yanqing stepped out, it felt as if even the wind had stilled.

Yet he buried his yearning for such vibrant life, warning himself that it was gone forever. Ahead lay only blood and struggle.

Slowly, his gaze shifted to the man not far away—long hair down to his waist, trench coat snapping in the wind.