The luxury cruise carved its way through the water, white spray trailing behind.

This far from the Sky Realm proper, even spaces within the Sky Stairway above the seventh level had reached a level of mechanical sophistication comparable to true airships — Yue Yang’s influence had pushed the Yue family’s puppet-construct technology forward dramatically. Back on his old world’s Dragon Soaring Continent, any wealthy man without a flying carriage or airship of his own wasn’t really wealthy — just a provincial landowner playing at it. White River City, oddly, ran the opposite way. Even when the locals built the largest, finest vessels imaginable, they never took them skyward. Everything stayed on the water.

Speed didn’t matter here. What mattered was the feeling of it.

The wealthy of White River City simply preferred the sensation of cutting across open water — a kind of deliberate, performative leisure, the equivalent of insisting on driving with the windows down for the wind. Who was going to argue with their idea of taste?

To a transmigrated man like Yue Yang, the whole custom struck him as faintly absurd. Though perhaps there was something underneath it — even as Sky Tower defectors, the mutant fishfolk seemed to retain, consciously or not, some fragment of the old culture. Or perhaps it was deliberate differentiation — a way of setting themselves apart from the rest of the Sky Realm’s peoples, preserving whatever scrap of pride they had left.

Either way, Yue Yang didn’t particularly care. Let the fishfolk do whatever struck their fancy. Stupidity wasn’t contagious, at least.

“Not joining the cocktail party and the dance?” Qingping appeared at his side at some point, hesitated briefly, then settled into a deck chair near where Yue Yang lay sunbathing.

“Why would I bother with that kind of tedious gathering? A third of the people there are human, same as us. Eighty percent are tourists, same as us. People from all corners, total strangers to each other — but you could run into exactly this same crowd in any city across the Sky Realm. None of it’s actually new. Nearly two thousand people aboard this ship, and outside of service staff like yourself, not a single White River City woman has come along for the Wave-Mist Sea trip. I have no interest in mingling with tourists I could find anywhere. What I’d actually like is to see what White River City’s own women are like.” Yue Yang expressed genuine disappointment at the absence of local beauties.

“We grew up here — we’ve already seen the Wave-Mist Sea a hundred times over. That’s why fewer locals come along for it. And with so many visitors this season, it’s only courteous for those of us who’ve already enjoyed the view to step back and let the tourists have the space.” Qingping’s explanation came quickly, startled by how observant he’d been.

She understood, of course, exactly why the human tourists aboard had been concentrated onto this particular ship. She understood, too, exactly why the festivities had been scheduled to start on the very first day.

These were details only a handful of people were supposed to know.

She found herself genuinely curious about something. This man was unmistakably the leering type — so why no interest in the party, where plenty of attractive opportunities presumably waited? And why this specific preference for White River City women over human tourists or visitors from elsewhere? Something about that didn’t add up.

She didn’t dare ask directly, and settled for a smile instead. “If I weren’t expected to join the prince and the others at the party shortly, I wouldn’t leave you out here sunbathing alone. Would you like me to send someone to keep you company?”

“Someone in a revealing outfit, attractive figure, White River City local. No need for anyone unfortunate-looking.” Yue Yang delivered the specification without a shred of self-consciousness.

“Fine. I’ll go ask if any of the staff are free.” Qingping briefly considered kicking him directly off the deck. Revealing outfit, attractive figure — who exactly do you think you are?

As Qingping walked away toward the Starfish Hall, Old Iron Anchor — currently dressed as the ship’s first mate — brushed past her and spoke quietly: “Whatever it takes, he needs to be off that deck before six o’clock tonight. The operation is already in motion. We cannot let one person, or one small complication, throw off the timeline.”

Qingping nodded, though her expression darkened. She understood the implication. Yue Yang, behaving in a way nobody had anticipated, had planted himself on the bow deck and was now interfering with the plan as written. Getting him moved had landed on her.

How was she supposed to manage that?

For a man like this, the obvious tool was seduction.

She didn’t relish it. She had no taste for leering men — her preference ran firmly toward someone like the Tianra Prince, courteous and genuinely handsome. Being pulled away from the prince’s side to go entice this particular degenerate, sacrificing some dignity in the process, struck her as a thoroughly unwelcome assignment.

If there’d been any other option, she would have taken it without hesitation.

The man was good-looking — arguably the most striking one in Sea Fatty’s whole group. But looks were just looks. They told her nothing about what was underneath.

“Your Highness, should we invite Mr. Yue Yang to the party with us? He seems like he might be bored out there alone.” Qingping found the Tianra Prince quickly, hoping he might help convince Yue Yang to abandon the deck and head back inside, clearing the way for the operation to proceed undisturbed. The prince, however, only smiled and shook his head. “The point of a trip like this is to relax. If he prefers the sun, let him have it — no need to push. Besides, he and Sea Fatty don’t get along — putting them in the same room just means an argument. Better they each find their own way to unwind.”

… Qingping felt a headache coming on. Your Highness, your logic is sound, but the situation requires a specific outcome, and if that lecher doesn’t move soon, someone’s going to deal with him ahead of schedule.

“Leave him be,” Snow-Hungry Wolf said flatly, shutting down the suggestion entirely.

“Right — let the sun roast him good, dry him out like jerky, char him to charcoal if we’re lucky—” Sea Fatty waved his arms with enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong with a little sun?” Ye Kong said it almost absently, and the comment startled Qingping. If the blockhead got it into his head to go sunbathe too out of pure contrariness, that would be a disaster — he’d end up dead along with the target. She redirected quickly, smiling. “I heard this year’s party is featuring a new wine — Black Blood Wine, made from Black Blood Dragon Eel and Many-Tentacle Demon Sap, blended with Purple-Spot Grape. Apparently it has a remarkably unique flavor, and benefits for skin and overall vitality, for men and women alike. We should absolutely try it.”

“Heard about that one. Apparently it does wonders for a man’s stamina too.” Sea Fatty’s grin took on a distinctly suggestive quality.

“Perfect. Suits you exactly.” Ye Kong nodded with conviction.

“You broke wretch of a monkey who couldn’t even afford a legendary mini-skirt — say that again. Challenge me and I’ll send you back under that mountain.” Sea Fatty was, predictably, one of the more thoroughly affected casualties of the previous day’s storytelling.

“I’m still doing better than you, Pigsy. Don’t act tough just because your meat costs more.” Ye Kong’s counter landed clean, and Sea Fatty rolled his eyes hard enough to nearly disappear them.

“Expensive meat sells for a better price when butchered,” Liqie offered with a laugh.

“No rush. Let him fatten up a bit more first.” Ligua’s eyes tracked over Sea Fatty with the look of someone planning where to make the first cut.

… Qingping found the whole exchange exhausting to witness. This group had absolutely no sense of the danger they were in. Whatever happened over the course of this trip, the odds were they weren’t going home — and there was nothing she could actually do about it. People this committed to joking around and roughhousing would probably ignore even a direct warning if she somehow tried to deliver one. And regardless — for the sake of her people’s revival, siding with outsiders, however genuinely fine these men might be, was never on the table.

The party was approaching.

Qingping checked the time and realized six o’clock was nearly here.

Her anxiety was climbing. The lecher was thoroughly irritating, but having him die today, ahead of the planned three-day window, felt like a genuine waste. Whatever else he was, his offenses didn’t merit death just yet — and if the slave merchant’s shipment arrived in time with sufficient blood for the ritual, killing him early would mean his death served no purpose at all.

She manufactured an excuse and hurried toward the bow deck, hoping to pull the lecher into the tasting hall before something worse happened to him out there in the open.

Cutting through the Starfish Hall at speed, she rounded a corner and stopped cold.

A mutant fishfolk woman in a revealing swimsuit was lying against the lecher’s side, laughing and tangled up with him in obvious enjoyment. Qingping recognized her instantly — this was Water Spider, the most ruthless woman in all of White River City. Every man who’d ever gotten involved with her had ended up dead or permanently ruined. Not one exception.

“Oh, you’re terrible. Just awful!” Water Spider lay pressed against him, her swimsuit half-undone, and Qingping registered with a jolt that one of his hands had already slipped inside it.

“Men who aren’t a little bad don’t get loved — ha! Didn’t expect you to be this sensitive!” The lecher in question laughed, delighted.

Just as his fingers were about to go further, Qingping closed the distance in an instant, yanked his hand free, and demanded furiously: “What do you think you’re doing?”

He shrugged, the gesture saying plainly: isn’t it obvious?

Water Spider, recognizing Qingping, made a quiet, contemptuous sound.

She took his hand and guided it firmly back to where it had been, the message unmistakable: the door was open, walk in.

Qingping looked at the unrestrained delight on his face and grabbed him by the collar, glaring straight into his eyes behind the dark lenses. “Do you have any idea who she is?”

He looked baffled. “Wasn’t she the one you sent over? I get it — you’re jealous. Come on, plenty of room, let’s all enjoy ourselves together. Don’t worry, I’ve got the stamina for two at once, no problem at all.”

“You — you are a real disappointment!” Qingping’s fury hit its peak. Let him die. He’s earned it. I came here to save his life and he’s negotiating for a threesome — too stupid to even register the danger he’s in. This is exactly the kind of man whose lust has eaten his brain entirely.

“No worries if two at once isn’t your thing — I’ll handle this little vixen first, and you can sneak in tonight, I’ll leave the door open for you.”

“I’ll leave your head open—”

Past the point of containing her fury, Qingping put a foot into him and sent him tumbling straight into the crescent-shaped pool on the bow deck.

Water Spider gave Qingping one cold glance, then let a quiet, satisfied smile curl at the edge of her mouth.

The moment Yue Yang surfaced from the water, her expression switched instantly to something warm and sweet. She extended a pale hand to pull him up, and in the process of “pulling too hard,” let him collapse onto her instead. As Qingping stormed away in fury, the corner of her mouth lifted again — barely visible, distinctly pleased, as if to say: you want to compete with me? You’re not ready.

Old Iron Anchor crossed paths with Qingping a second time. His expression was no better than before. He repeated the same line she’d heard already, word for word:

“You’re a real disappointment.”

That phrase followed Qingping through the wine tasting afterward, leaving everything in her mouth bitter and sour for the rest of the evening.

Over the following two days, the cruise reached the Wave-Mist Sea’s rainbow fish run, and the tourists erupted in cheers at the sight. Sea Fatty and Ye Kong threw themselves into the water with the rest of the crowd, swimming among the fish with obvious joy. The lecher Qingping had kicked into the pool seemed to have undergone a complete attitude shift, mingling freely with the other passengers now — though, notably, still accompanied at every turn by Water Spider, who flirted endlessly and never once agreed to stay the night in his room.

As the cruise’s passengers wound down their celebrations and the ship turned back, Qingping was preparing to return to her quarters when a voice spoke behind her.

Her face went white.

Because the voice said: “The slave shipment hasn’t arrived. The plan proceeds as scheduled regardless. Given your irregular conduct, however, the leadership has decided to revoke your participation. Return to your quarters and reflect. You will not be permitted out again until we’re back in White River City and you’ve received approval from above.”

Qingping’s lips trembled.

In the end, she lowered her head and answered, obedient:

“Yes.”