Chapter 80

Chapter 80

The Capital Star’s port remained bustling even at night, with the towering terminal building illuminated across more than twenty floors. Through the cobalt-blue glass, figures streamed back and forth like flowing water.

Qin Mengde parked the car some distance away from the port. In the passenger seat, Eve sat cross-legged, a notebook-sized monitor resting between her legs. The screen was divided into a grid of nine sections: the center showed a radar map with marked locations, while the surrounding eight displayed high-definition footage from surveillance cameras at different points around the port. Every figure in the footage had silver hair, blue eyes, and striking features.

This feed had just been transmitted by the two Oliver operatives stationed near the port. They had already spotted the Medici group but, outnumbered and cautious, had only dared to send Eve the location-tagged radar images and live surveillance feeds.

With far more field experience than anyone else present, including Eve, Qin Mengde merely glanced at the display before turning away disinterestedly. "Stop watching that, it’s useless."

"Oh?" Eve obediently switched off the screen and asked earnestly, "Why? I’m not very experienced with missions, so I’d appreciate your guidance, Senior Qin Mengde."

Her tone was appropriately humble. A low chuckle came from behind Qin Mengde’s mask, and she didn’t hold back her advice. "Because Cecil won’t make a move as long as we’re near the port."

"The Capital Star has no night... and this is a port that’s busy from dawn till dusk." She sighed, glancing out at the endless stream of traffic, and added calmly, "If he tries to intercept us here, it’ll cause a huge commotion. Of course, given the Medici family’s status on the Capital Star, staging an ‘accident’ wouldn’t be difficult. But tonight’s target is just an illegitimate child, not some important figure. They won’t want to draw that much attention."

Eve thought it made sense. Cecil might seem reckless, but there were still people who could rein him in—like his father, Medici Patriarch Sparti Medici.

Sparti valued the family’s honor and interests above all else. Moreover, Cecil had recently bungled the calling off of his engagement with the Oliver Family. If Sparti found out Cecil had caused an explosion at the port just to eliminate an illegitimate child, he would not let it slide.

But where else could they strike?

She scanned the surroundings, noting the rows of shops already closed for the night. The alleyways were left with only 24-hour omnidirectional surveillance cameras dutifully monitoring every angle.

Still, if it was just surveillance, that was manageable. For the Medici family, anything without human oversight was within their control. Perhaps the cameras for miles around had already been scheduled to "accidentally" break down.

"I see," she mused. "We should relocate. I think I know where we should wait."

A slight smile touched Qin Mengde’s lips as she pressed the accelerator. The hovercar lifted smoothly into the air. From above, the route from the port to the northeast Medici territory passed through a commercial street devoid of skyscrapers. The shops there had already closed early, leaving the area eerily quiet.

It was indeed a suitable spot.

Eve sent a message to the two Oliver operatives, briefly explaining the new situation before ending the communication.

Under the dim moonlight, a pure black modified hovercar streaked like lightning over the traffic flowing to and from the port, shooting straight into the dimly lit streets to the northeast before vanishing from sight.

Meanwhile, in the underground parking lot of the starship port, Cecil, draped in a sharply tailored overcoat, sat in his car with a dark expression, listening to his subordinates’ reports.

Upon learning that no one matching the description had disembarked from the expected flight, his brow furrowed slightly.

He didn’t believe the anonymous tipster from Roche would dare deceive him—such was the arrogance of the Medici heir.

Yet a faint sense of unease began to creep into his mind.

—So why hadn’t they found the target?

He guessed it was because the illegitimate son was in thorough disguise. In the photo, the illegitimate son had deliberately dyed his hair a dull warm brown, maintaining a low profile. Now, on the verge of returning to the Capital Star, he would only be more cautious.

But even with a disguise, the illegitimate son would have a destination. What other reason would an illegitimate son have for traveling thousands of miles to the Capital Star if not to claim his birthright?

It was just as well—the port was too crowded for action. Cecil had originally planned to eliminate the target discreetly in a remote, less crowded area farther from the port.

A merciless glint flashed in his eyes. After a moment’s thought, Cecil picked up his communicator and ordered, "If you can’t find him, withdraw from the port. Split into five teams and deploy them along streets 120 to 124."

These five streets were the only routes from the central district to Medici territory. Two days prior, Cecil had shut down surveillance in the area and had the energy department issue a notice announcing a temporary blackout from 5 PM to 8 AM for the next three days.

Water and electricity were the lifeblood of the commercial district. Without them, the shops had no choice but to close early and send everyone home.

"—That bastard must not set foot in the Medici mansion," Cecil said, his handsome features clouded with gloom. He curled his lip into a cold smile. "Better to kill by mistake than to let him escape. He must be eliminated tonight."

"Yes, sir!"

Cecil ended the communication and kicked the Third Steward, who was preparing to drive, irritably. "Let’s go too."

In a bad mood, Cecil wasn’t someone the Third Steward dared to provoke with foolish questions about their destination. Checking the navigation system, the Third Steward noted that Street 122 was centrally located and the shortest route. Making a decision, he stepped on the accelerator and headed straight there.

The vehicle roared through the air, leaving a trail like a shooting star. The dark blue sky reflected the countless lights below, resembling an inverted sunrise over the sea.

Leaning against the front seat, Cecil suddenly spotted a car moving suspiciously toward one of the target streets.

Its pitch-black body was irregularly shaped and bore no logo, making it nearly invisible in the darkness.

Cecil was certain this suddenly appearing car wasn’t part of his convoy—the Medici family didn’t own such an ugly hovercar—but no ordinary private vehicle would move in such a bewildering manner.

"That car is suspicious," he said, his eyes fixed on the small dark shape in the distance. "Take it down."

There were only three people in their hovercar: the Third Steward driving, Cecil in the back, and a sniper in the front passenger seat.

The sniper was a young woman who, by blood, was Cecil’s cousin. Her status in the family was unusual—though her official rank wasn’t high, she was one of the rare Medici members who had gained real influence in the military, giving her a special role within the family.

As a result, her attitude toward Cecil wasn’t as deferential or fearful as the Third Steward’s. She had joined this operation only because she couldn’t believe her uncle had cheated and wanted to see for herself what this illegitimate son was like.

Sophia Medici raised her hand cannon, lining up the shot on the car Cecil had mentioned. But she didn’t immediately pull the trigger.

"That car seems to have been outfitted with military-grade modifications," she said doubtfully. "Are you sure that’s your target, dear? I heard the bastard was clinging to Roche, not Cavendish."

But Cecil was as stubborn as ever. "Just shoot. Even if we kill the wrong person, the Medici family can handle the consequences."

"Fine, it’s your call."

With the spoiled young master giving a firm order, further persuasion was useless. Sophia glanced at the vehicle’s black box, ensuring it recorded her dutiful attempt to advise him, then aimed her hand cannon at the agile black car, sleek as the chariot of a deity.

Then, she pulled the trigger.

Sophia’s Spiritual State was that of an A-class Dawn Hawk, specializing in vision and precision.

As the cannon fired with a deafening blast, she finished her sentence in a mumble: "...As long as you don’t make me be the scapegoat afterward."

Boom—!

A copper-colored projectile arced across the sky in a perfect parabolic trajectory, racing toward the distant car. Eve, sitting in the passenger seat, turned and clearly saw the incoming artillery—it looked powerful.

She asked Qin Mengde, "How’s this car’s defense?"

Instead of answering, Qin Mengde said, "Open the box under your seat."

Eve complied and pulled out a compression cannon even more powerful than a hand cannon.

"..."

Qin Mengde whistled, exuding a military swagger. "The best defense is a good offense."

Eve fell silent for a moment, unsure whether to praise Qin Mengde’s forward-thinking mindset or criticize her unapologetically fierce style. In the end, she decided to deal with the immediate crisis first.

The rear window cranked down with a whir. Kneeling on the seat, she hefted the cannon, its barrel wider than her head, and struggled to press the trigger. Meanwhile, Qin Mengde slammed the accelerator with foresight, pushing the hovercar to its maximum speed.

After a deafening roar, an even more terrifying blast followed as two shells collided mid-air. Sophia, following close behind, realized something was wrong the moment the other vehicle accelerated straight forward instead of evading. She immediately shouted, "Wait, turn! Turn now!"

"Turn? Where?" The Third Steward, who was driving, was confused and kept going straight.

Without time to explain, Sophia lunged forward, grabbed the steering wheel, and forcefully swerved it. The gleaming hovercar swerved left like a panicked rabbit at full speed, sending Cecil in the back seat crashing against the door with a loud thud, leaving him dazed.

Before he could recover and vent his anger, the two immensely powerful shells erupted into a shockwave of terrifying energy upon collision. Even though Sophia had forced the car to turn, the rolling blast swept across the flat terrain, hitting the hovercar and tossing the occupants around violently. Cecil’s words were choked in his throat as he slammed into the front seat with another dull thud.

"Screech... screech... boom!" More than making a forced landing, the hovercar was sent flying before crashing heavily to the ground and skidding for miles, leaving four messy skid marks on the clean paved surface, like a celebrity’s meticulously made-up face brutally attacked by makeup remover.

Expensive hovercars have their reasons for being costly—even after such a heavy blow, it still held up with the dignity of a high-end vehicle. However, the people inside clearly lacked such metal-like toughness.

The Third Steward had hit his head directly on the doorframe, gashing his head, and was now unconscious with blood streaming from his forehead. Sophia was in slightly better shape, having protected herself in time, though she felt dizzy. After a glance at the Third Steward, she gave up on saving him, but the Young Master in the back was someone she couldn’t ignore.

She kicked open the slightly deformed car door—fortunately, it wasn’t jammed shut—then half-dragged the dizzy Cecil out from the back seat, pulled the communicator from his waist, and as soon as the call connected, unleashed a string of decidedly un-aristocratic, crude language. The gist was that the situation had changed and backup needed to come quickly.

At this point, Cecil couldn’t bother to reprimand her for insubordination. He pounded his head, enduring the pain, and asked, "What do we do now?"

Sophia thought, *You’re asking me? Who should I ask?* But she didn’t dare say that to her superior aloud. Instead, she replied, "Wait for rescue, and pray the other side doesn’t find us here soon." Though given the huge commotion from the earlier explosion, the chances of them not being found were slim.

"This is no place to stay."

Her heart tightened as she sharply realized the situation had deviated from expectations. She made a quick decision and pulled Cecil up, saying, "Let’s go."

"What about Eamon?" He pointed at the unconscious Third Steward.

"Oh, my dear Young Master, can’t you see? They’re clearly after you," Sophia said impatiently. "Eamon won’t die. Your life is precious. Let’s go."

Shortly after she half-dragged Cecil away, the surrounding trees began to rustle. A gust of air swept through as a jet-black hovercar came to a steady stop by the roadside.

Under the moonlight, two tall figures emerged from the car—Eve and Qin Mengde, both draped in wide robes and wearing intricately patterned silver masks. Their eerie appearance was strikingly reminiscent of chilling slasher villains from horror films.

They had followed the noise from earlier. Qin Mengde had fled at full speed even before the shells collided, putting a safe distance between them before turning around to clearly observe the trajectory of the crashing car.

Though their counterattack was swift, the two only knew their attackers were undoubtedly from the Medici family, without knowing exactly which reckless bastard had fired first. Hence, they came specifically to check the crash site.

Eve climbed onto the slightly deformed and twisted hovercar, pulled on pure black combat gloves, and pried open the car door. Recognizing the face inside, she raised an eyebrow in surprise. "An acquaintance—the Third Steward."

Qin Mengde had heard of the Medici family’s Eight Stewards and was somewhat surprised. From what she recalled, these were eight individuals not to be trifled with.

"Can we kill him?" she asked.

"..." Eve pondered for a long time before answering cautiously, "We could. His strength ranks among the weaker of the Eight Stewards, since he was sent to babysit."

Babysitting—wasn’t that just a resume-padding job?

Qin Mengde, having done similar work herself, immediately understood.

"But it’s better not to. This could still be considered a minor scuffle. If we kill the Third Steward, the nature of this incident will change. Let’s leave him for the Medicis to handle."

As Eve nimbly jumped down from the car, she considerately repositioned the unconscious Third Steward’s head to prevent him from suffocating under the steering wheel—which could later be blamed on her. After finishing, she clapped her hands and gazed into the nearby alleyways. "Let’s go. The real big fish is still out there."

If the Third Steward is here, can the main target tonight be far behind?

Since Eve was leading this operation, Qin Mengde had no objections to her arrangements. Standing to the side, hands tucked into her raincoat-like wide sleeves, she gave a noncommittal "Mhm."

"Snick, snick." Eve flipped open the communicator cover, her fingers swiftly tapping in a code. After a buzzing connection sound, a voice came from the other end: "Miss Lu."

"Are you here yet?"

"Yes, we’re currently near 163, 121st Street," the voice paused before continuing, "Things seem off. The Medicis are heading in a certain direction."

Eve thought it seemed Cecil was pretty badly injured, hence calling for backup.

If Cecil was injured, he wouldn’t have gone far. The Medici group would undoubtedly be making a beeline there. Now, they just needed to follow the direction the Medicis were moving, and locate the target first.

"Follow them, then feed me the coordinates," she said.