Red nose, a large belly, foggy eyes, and a disheveled appearance... Zhang Yuanqing stared at the middle-aged man approaching him, feeling as though he had seen this man before. ——The Wine God Club? Zhang Yuanqing instinctively thought of this foreign evil occupation. Two orderly professionals in black suits and white shirts, dressed like corporate elites, immediately noticed the man with the prominent belly. The middle-aged man, carrying a briefcase, stopped alertly, while the more polished young man stepped forward, gently pressing on the man's lower back. This was the standard gesture a police officer makes before drawing his gun. "Sir, I'm a uniformed police officer at the airport. Please halt and allow me to conduct a check," the well-dressed, fair-skinned young man declared firmly. Fresh off the plane, he couldn't possibly be carrying a sidearm—his face looked young and fresh, yet he was clearly sharp and experienced. As the distance between them narrowed, the young man suddenly stumbled, as if tripped, falling flat on his face, precisely landing at the feet of the man with the large belly. "Bang!" The sturdy boots of the man with the barrel chest slammed hard into the young man's mandible, knocking him unconscious. Indeed, a heavy drinker... Zhang Yuanqing, standing a few paces away, nodded slightly, confirming his assessment. The middle-aged man carrying his briefcase watched as his companion was instantly subdued, his pupils shrinking. He didn't attempt to fight the attackers or rescue his comrade. With his left hand, he swiftly waved several times. Whooosh— The air condensed into two curved blades of wind, one rising, one descending, slicing toward the man with the barrel chest. Without pausing to watch the outcome, the middle-aged man with a slightly higher hairline picked up his briefcase and fled in the opposite direction. The light wind currents lifted beneath his feet and pushed against his back, propelling him like a well-aimed arrow. At the same time, he shouted, "There's a threat here! Alert the police immediately!" Though he had just subdued his companion, the enemy was clearly at the peak of the extraordinary tier, and he himself was at level three. Yet he was a wind mage—single combat was challenging against evil-aligned professions. Moreover, he was carrying sensitive documents, making it difficult In this situation, creating chaos and delaying time is the best course of action. At the same time, the man with the broad waist lifts his right hand and gently flicks it, causing the ruby chain on his wrist to flash brightly. Instantly, two gusts of wind—coordinated as if by instinct—slice upward and downward: one cuts through the ceiling eight to seven meters high, the other through the marble floor, leaving shallow incisions. Ignoring the bewildered and astonished glances of the onlookers, the man with the broad waist strides steadily toward the middle-aged man carrying his briefcase, simultaneously keeping the chain on his wrist glowing. In the next moment, the middle-aged man suddenly loses his sense of direction, dashing to the left, then colliding with a wall, only to veer right and strike another glass wall. Seizing the opportunity, the man with the broad waist closes the distance. As the man who had been drinking heavily approaches, the middle-aged man grows tense, shouting warnings loudly, urging others to call for help, and at the same time, he forcefully throws his briefcase at the man with the broad waist. Hmph—cognitive dissonance… Zhang Yuanqing can't help muttering under her So far, the skills displayed by the man with the belly—sensory disarray and cognitive errors—have been extraordinary, belonging to the realm of transcendent stages. However, his wristband appears to have an amplification effect, rendering even fully lawful, equally-ranked professionals completely unable to withstand it. Watching his briefcase crash into him, the man with the belly beamed with satisfaction, seized the briefcase in one hand, and then sprinted forward, launching a powerful kick toward the middle-aged man's chest. The middle-aged man remained rooted, slightly dazed, as though slightly intoxicated. "Thud!" The heavy impact of flesh against flesh sent him flying backward. The man with the belly turned, grasped the briefcase, and swiftly departed. As he passed by Anne and Zhang Yuanqing, Zhang Yuanqing extended his foot. "Thud!" The heavy man, weighing two hundred pounds, crashed to the ground, the briefcase slipping from his grasp and rolling several meters away. The man with the belly winced, his expression now confused, unsure of why he had fallen. ——Zhang Yuanqing had concealed his movement with a spell. But he didn’t have time to think about this. Some tourists pulled out their phones to call for help, others went to notify the airport police. He had to leave quickly. The man with the broad belly quickly rose to retrieve his briefcase, only to see someone else snatch it before him. The person who reached for the briefcase was a young Eastern man with a yellow complexion and black eyes, handsome in appearance, calm and composed. "Yellow pig! Give me the thing!" The man with the broad belly stared wide-eyed, adopting a fierce, threatening posture, reaching out to snatch the briefcase from Zhang Yuanqing’s hands. "It’s not yours." Zhang Yuanqing stepped back, his leg muscles tensing, then powerfully kicked his right leg. *Thwack!* A high kick struck the man with the broad belly squarely in the jaw, splattering blood and teeth. The broad-bellied man let out a low cry, then collapsed backward, making a loud, heavy thud. Zhang Yuanqing held one suitcase in one hand and a briefcase in the other, strides forward, and delivers a side kick to the man’s temple, knocking him unconscious with his rounded belly. "Annie!" Zhang Yuanqing looks at the chain on the man’s wrist, indicating that she take the prize. Annie understands instantly, quickly removes the chain and places it into her lady’s handbag. At this moment, the middle-aged man, whose abdomen has just been kicked, has recovered enough to move, though his internal organs are slightly damaged—he can still manage to walk. He holds his stomach, stumbles over, and approaches, keeping a watchful eye on Annie and Zhang Yuanqing, saying, "Good day. That’s my belongings…" As he speaks, he remains alert, scanning the surroundings. At a transportation hub like Dia Airport, both the Heavenly Punishment and the Sea God’s Church have assigned on-duty wanderers’ teams who are always on standby—should these two be enemies, his priority is to buy time. "I know those are yours," Zhang Yuanqing throws the briefcase toward him. The middle-aged man eagerly accepted it, feeling the leather casing and then gently touching the contents inside to confirm everything was correct, before offering a sincere, grateful smile: "Thank you so much for your help... you two are also Journeyers, aren't you?" He unconsciously lowered his voice on the last part. Zhang Yuanqing smiled and nodded. "I come from the second-largest region; my Journeyer ID is Tongtian Master." In the Free Federation, the attitude toward wild Journeyers is generally more gentle and open-minded—they don't insist on registering you with the Heavenly Judgment system, and as long as you don't cause any trouble, it's perfectly fine to remain anonymous as a Journeyer. His spoken English was quite awkward, with some pronunciation issues—indeed, he didn't quite sound like a long-term resident of the Free Federation. While rubbing his stomach, he continued: "I'm a Wind Mage from the Heavenly Judgment, Journeyer ID Maenad. Maenad is a name for a wind-type yokai from the Japanese islands. Actually, I originally wanted to go with Boreas—the name of the wind god in mythology." But unfortunately, the CEO has already claimed that name—she truly is a formidable woman. He was in his forties, with faint fish-eye and forehead lines, light gray eyes set in deep eye sockets, a high nose, not particularly handsome, yet warm and approachable when he smiled. Was it really appropriate to discuss one of the leaders of the Divine Judgment so casually? Oh, almost forgot—everyone can hang the president’s portrait on the bathroom wall. Zhang Yuanqing noticed the other person’s gesture of clutching his abdomen, reached out, drew forth the Mountain God’s staff, used a spell to conceal it, and gently tapped the shoulder of the Scythe Fox. The Scythe Fox instinctively looked at his left shoulder, and then, the intense abdominal pain swiftly subsided. He was surprised, lowered his gaze to his abdomen, and then looked back at Zhang Yuanqing. "So you are a Wood Spirit." Zhang Yuanqing returned the staff to his inventory, neither confirming nor denying, simply smiled. "We have other matters to attend to. This is my assistant, Anne. If you need any assistance, feel free to reach out to her." One reason Zhang Yuanqing stepped forward was to build his network—especially official connections. Early on, he relied on Fu Qingyang, and later on, he gained strength by aligning himself with the Marshal. Just as Anne and Kamin had added each other as friends, the airport police arrived promptly. Zhang Yuanqing whispered, "Let's go!" The two quickly joined the crowded crowd, following the signs toward the taxi area. Half an hour later, Zhang Yuanqing and Anne settled into a taxi. The driver, a stout middle-aged white man, greeted Zhang Yuanqing—of black eyes and curly hair—with a lively, awkward pronunciation: "Ní háo!" Zhang Yuanqing turned to Anne and asked, "Shall we leave a tip?" Anne shook her head. Ah, the driver was adding his own flair... Zhang Yuanqing said nothing further. The taxi departed the airport and sped through the bustling, vibrant city center. Both are world-class metropolitan areas, yet New York County and Songhai exhibit clear differences. The architectural style in New York County emphasizes right angles, clean lines, and geometric forms—essentially the "boxy" or rectangular building style. Moreover, many older buildings incorporate classical Roman columns and marble facades, exuding a subtle sense of age and history. Beyond these features, Zhang Yuanqing's most noticeable impression is that the streets are less spacious than those in Songhai, and urban greenery is less abundant. Observing the diverse skin tones and ethnicities of the city's residents, Zhang Yuanqing couldn't help but ask, "How is the safety? Will I be pointed at by Nick with a gun in the evening?" Anne responded with a touch of hesitation: "As long as you stay indoors at night, the safety is generally good..." The Chinese neighborhood in New York County is located in the southern part of Man Island, in the downtown area, and spans over forty streets, housing approximately fifteen thousand Chinese residents. Among the Chinese community, those who particularly enjoy hot pot soup made with Hu Jianren, and those whose hot pot soup recipes have been officially included in the provincial culinary catalog, stand out. The architectural style of the Chinatown blends Chinese and Western elements, featuring buildings with soaring eaves and gabled roofs, as well as rows of adjacent rectangular residential buildings. Some streets are narrow, with generally average sanitation conditions, and the adjacent buildings display disorganized, Chinese-charactered gateways. This cramped environment reminds Zhang Yuanqing of the older districts of Hong Kong. Other streets are adjacent to high-rise buildings, spacious, and lined with a full range of Chinese restaurants and snack shops. Annie's upscale apartment is a well-designed, modest building with red brick facades, six stories tall, square in shape, featuring bright floor-to-ceiling windows and small balconies on the front. Just a left turn from the entrance leads to a bustling street of street food, while a right turn past two traffic signals brings one to the modern CBD district. The two carry their luggage and take the elevator to the fourth floor. In the elevator, Anne whispered, "The location is excellent and the rent is very reasonable, but the landlord only accepts Chinese-speaking tenants and doesn't take white or Black renters. Pastor, you'll need to convince her soon—otherwise, we'll have to refund the deposit and look for another place." The elevator doors opened, revealing three security doors, one elevator serving three units. Anne checked the floor number on her phone and then knocked on the door of Unit 401. "Ding-ding!" As the knocking echoed, the security door opened and a boy of about seven or eight peeked out, while a sharp scolding from a woman came through the crack: "I've been spending money to send you to school, and now you've learned nothing—every subject is failing! The teacher says you've been getting close to street kids lately and even formed a coalition against whites and Blacks. Your bedding, you're either going to work in the store or you're going back to your country!" Amidst the woman's sharp scolding, the boy, speaking Cantonese, asked crisply, "Who are you looking for?" Annie turned to Zhang Yuanqing, her pale face filled with questions. "I don't understand Cantonese either," Zhang Yuanqing smiled and said, "Lai Hou, we're here to rent a house—we've already paid the deposit." The little boy turned and called out to his mother behind him, "Mom, your tenant has arrived!" The scolding stopped immediately, and a sharp voice from the woman replied, "Bring the guest in." "Is your mother scolding you?" Zhang Yuanqing chuckled, rubbing the boy's head. "No, she's scolding my sister." The boy opened the door and promptly returned to the living room. Zhang Yuanqing led Annie into the house, taking in the space. The living room was spacious, about thirty square meters, with a typical Chinese interior design—ink paintings hung on the walls, and potted plants placed in a corner. The little boy sat on the sofa, munching on chips and watching an animated show. The bedroom faced a woman stepping out in slippers, wearing a nightgown. Her cheekbones were slightly high, and her features were actually quite attractive, but her pale, wan skin and the restlessness in her expression made her appear as though she had already entered menopause. She glanced at Anne and Zhang Yuanqing, her brow furrowing slightly upon seeing Anne. Turning to Zhang Yuanqing, she said coldly, "From the mainland?" Restlessness, dissatisfaction—her displeasure intensified upon seeing Anne. Honestly, she seemed perpetually angry. Auntie, you must have a rather strong liver heat. Wait—could it be that you're a Fire Specialist? Zhang Yuanqing, sensing the emotions radiating from her, quietly muttered to herself.