Chapter 82: The Local

“I'm talking to you! Did you hear me? Are you all incapable of breathing? Don't dawdle, or I'll make sure you never breathe again!” The man with the Mohawk hairstyle spoke arrogantly, steam puffing from his upturned nostrils.

Liu Lingling rolled her eyes, unwilling to bother with these bullies. Answering his questions would be flattering him too much, she thought. Even sharing the same air with him felt like a sin.

“Could you please clarify exactly what your company lost? Let’s follow the lost property procedure, shall we?” Ye Hui replied in a formal tone. He was professionally trained and would never discriminate against someone with questionable intelligence.

Though he found the man before him difficult, Ye Hui patiently tried to guide him. Keeping the other party from losing his temper was a skill every new underworld employee had to cultivate.

Mohawk’s temper flared instantly. Truthfully, he hated people who treated him like a fool. He impatiently twisted his head, fists clenched, joints popping audibly.

“Stop denying it, pretending you know nothing—it’s disgusting!”

Once someone forms a fixed impression of another, nothing the latter does will ever look right. Even when they do nothing wrong, nitpicking becomes second nature.

“If you weren’t here for the company’s prototype sofa, why come to such a remote place? You’re still trying to fool me—how naive!”

Mohawk adjusted his hair, fixing Ye Hui with a confident gaze.

“How utterly stupid,” Liu Lingling muttered under her breath. That one sentence revealed every secret of the Horror Exploration Company. If she had subordinates as dim-witted as this, she’d be driven mad.

Still, Mohawk had his strengths. His ability to express himself was remarkable—one simple sentence summarized the whole affair.

In that respect, Liu Lingling admitted she was outclassed.

“Hey, delinquent girl, don’t think I can’t hear you talking behind my back! Watch yourself. Didn’t you know most company employees have undergone mechanical modification? Even the faintest sound is picked up by the internal receivers installed in our bodies.”

Mohawk pointed at Liu Lingling with swagger, holding his head high in pride.

Liu Lingling didn’t get angry at Mohawk’s intrusive gestures; she suddenly found the conversation rather entertaining. Talking with him gave her deeper insight into the Horror Exploration Company, and letting him live a little longer seemed worthwhile.

For instance, she’d never known the company’s employees underwent mechanical modification. Her previous dealings with the company had been limited, and her understanding was superficial at best. More profound knowledge was absent—unless they became rivals. After all, no one knows you better than your enemy. Sadly, it’s always your enemy who cares most about your fate.

“Would you believe me if I said I was invited?” Ye Hui said, rubbing his nose helplessly. He’d been set up by Wang Jinkai. Both parties arrived at nearly the same time, leaving no room for reaction.

Mohawk eyed Ye Hui with contempt, bored with such excuses. How could underworld employees not have learned anything except shoving responsibility and vague replies?

Yet Ye Hui was simply stating the truth, for once without embellishment. He wasn’t desperate for others to believe him—especially not someone with such questionable intelligence.

The underworld’s strength surpassed the Horror Exploration Company’s, but the world was vast and underworld staff were unevenly distributed. The personnel defending Mang City were merely average.

Even Ye Hui was only a reserve, still in training. The Mang City underworld staff eagerly awaited his death. To put it more delicately, they looked forward to his early reporting—in essence, there was no difference.

Though Ye Hui could complete tasks in his current part-time role, keeping a human body made operations inconvenient.

Mang City was supposed to be prosperous, hosting companies offering thrilling experiences. Clearly, the number of wealthy residents should have been high.

In less developed areas, companies catering only to basic survival needs predominated, and pursuit of psychological stimulation was rare.

Ye Hui couldn’t understand why the underworld would abandon such a thriving place, leaving only essential personnel to maintain operations. He owed his selection as an employee to this peculiar situation.

He’d tried probing official underworld staff for information, subtly seeking the truth behind the scenes.

Normally, when joining a new company, one would gather as much information as possible, especially regarding its reputation.

This approach certainly avoids many problems, but it can also lead to bias. People tend to dismiss praise as mere politeness, focusing instead on criticism.

Ye Hui, having grown up in Mang City and never left, knew nothing of the outside world except through the internet. He’d never set foot beyond its borders.

As far as he knew, underworld work was usually performed in unfamiliar cities, rotating staff to minimize corruption and prevent mistakes.

Strangely, every staff member he questioned had never left Mang City; all were born and raised there. The only difference was a severe generational gap—their times of death varied dramatically.

The oldest had been gone for over a hundred years. Digging up his grave would be an archaeological endeavor.

Ye Hui had mentally prepared for such things—after all, they worked for the underworld, and certain benefits were to be expected.

The underworld couldn’t control them in life, but in death, it certainly could.

Mohawk’s presence was overwhelming, especially when his eyes flashed green light for detection. As the green beam swept over Ye Hui’s head, he frowned and awkwardly dodged.

“This is truly blatant,” Ye Hui thought. There were no regulations prohibiting the supernatural in public, but Mohawk’s behavior was downright brazen. Did he not notice the surveillance camera flashing red beside him?

Ye Hui knew the Horror Exploration Company could easily handle such matters, but dealing with them was always troublesome. Perhaps this was the privilege of large corporations. The thought made him sorrowful, as if sadness flooded over him.

Comparison is always the source of anxiety.