Chapter 136 Summoning

The gathering dispersed.

The night, like the subtle intoxication of wine, slowly spread and filled the sky.

Amidst laughter and cheerful chatter, everyone pushed open the doors of the Ink House and said their goodbyes.

“That’s all for today. See you next time, everyone!”

Elton waved goodbye to everyone; after such high-intensity socializing, it was unclear if his heart was still closed off, but at least his behavior was no longer timid or hesitant.

“Yes! Yes!”

Wency excitedly waved her hands, her cheeks flushed red. She was clearly drunk again.

“I truly apologize for the trouble, everyone.”

Paul supported Wency with an apologetic expression, wondering if he should urge her to quit drinking.

His gaze was both sympathetic and cautious, afraid Wency might throw up on him again.

“Everyone had a great time! Let’s do it again next time!”

Meifuni laughed heartily.

She loved gatherings and enjoyed everyone clustering together enthusiastically. Even if it meant taking turns telling bad jokes from dusk till dawn, she would still want to attend.

They separated at the fork in the alley. Their figures, in twos and threes, were stretched long and short beneath the newly lit streetlamps, gradually disappearing into the hazy street corners.

In the end, only Sirian and a few others remained.

Elton was the first to say goodbye.

“I’m leaving first. I still have a radio show to host tonight.”

Without giving anyone a chance to stop him, he turned and vanished into the street.

Clearly, today’s gathering had depleted Elton’s social energy, and continuing would be too difficult for him.

Meifuni quietly leaned closer and asked curiously, “You and Dailin were gone for so long in the middle—what were you doing?”

Sirian answered without hesitation.

“Discussing life and ideals, as well as love and peace.”

“Ha? You, of all people!”

Meifuni looked incredulous. “If you’re going to lie, at least put some effort into it.”

Sirian smiled. “But I am telling the truth. Believe it or not, it’s up to you.”

Meifuni maintained her skeptical gaze.

Sirian’s neurotic and pathological mindset was simply too deeply ingrained in people’s minds; changing public perception of him wouldn’t happen overnight.

Furthermore, Sirian saw no need to change it; he had never cared about what others thought of him.

“Well, we’ll be going now.”

Dailin and Anya left together. Before leaving, he added meaningfully.

“For love and peace!”

Sirian cooperatively made a gesture of raising a glass, even though his hand was empty.

Meifuni eyed the two suspiciously, wondering if the phrase “love and peace” was some kind of secret code.

Once Dailin and Anya disappeared, only Sirian and Meifuni remained.

Meifuni whispered, “They came together, and they’re leaving together. I bet they’re living together. What do you think?”

“I think… you care about way too much gossip, Miss!”

Sirian was in an unexpectedly good mood. He vigorously ruffled Meifuni’s hair, earning a flurry of punches and kicks in return.

“Haha!”

Despite being hit, Sirian couldn’t stop laughing, which further infuriated Meifuni.

In a fit of anger, she grabbed Sirian’s arm and bit down hard.

“You brat!”

Sirian tried to shake Meifuni off, but she clung to him like a koala, refusing to let go.

According to normal plot development, Sirian should have conceded, praised the Miss’s virtue and morality, and then the Miss would reluctantly release him and forgive him.

Sirian was not a normal person, and the plot could not proceed normally.

He simply stared at Meifuni, who was biting him, his eyes actually showing a hint of encouragement.

This time, it was Meifuni who froze. Biting harder might break Sirian’s skin, but letting go now would make her look ridiculous.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Meifuni voluntarily let go, wiped the saliva from her mouth, and looked at the faint layer of teeth marks on Sirian’s arm.

“You jerk!”

Meifuni complained and gave Sirian another kick.

This time, he honestly took the hit. Based on his understanding of Meifuni, if he had dodged, she definitely would have flown into a rage.

“Stupid!”

Meifuni tossed out the word and turned to leave.

After spending time together recently, it was absolutely impossible to say she didn’t have feelings for Sirian.

But every time Meifuni tried to advance their relationship and employ some small, flirtatious tactics, Sirian would counter her with various strange responses.

“He’s truly stupid, Sirian.”

Meifuni sulked, complaining under her breath.

It was as if Sirian used all his intelligence on how to kill people; when faced with her flirtations, he was always impossibly dense.

Wait a minute!

Meifuni suddenly stopped.

No, that’s wrong!

Even the most slow-witted person would somewhat sense her affection, unless this guy was perfectly clear-headed from the start and was just pretending to be stupid.

When she thought back to all her previous actions toward Sirian, his seemingly clumsy responses suddenly looked like a child playing small tricks on an adult.

Shame and anger!

Meifuni immediately turned around to find Sirian. This time, she absolutely had to beat him up severely.

But by the time she walked back along the street, Sirian had already vanished without a trace.

“Ahhh!”

Meifuni groaned, holding her head. “Damn it, Sirian, did you calculate this too?”

Sirian had indeed calculated it.

He had initially intended to play along with Meifuni’s little tactics, but his mood was unexpectedly good today, and he suddenly felt the urge to tease her.

Being neither too close nor too distant was always the most subtle and attractive state.

Sirian hummed a tune and turned onto the main street. Pushing through the bustling crowd, he decided that the next enemy he killed would be granted a quick death.

Sirian returned to his apartment before darkness completely enveloped Heer City.

“Bruce, I’m back.”

As soon as he opened the door, Sirian saw Bruce controlling a pair of mechanical hands to draw a complex design blueprint.

“What are you doing?”

Sirian sat down next to him and tried to decipher the contents of the drawing.

“I’m planning the vehicle’s interior design—such as the bed, bathroom, kitchen, and so on. You wouldn’t want to be too miserable out in the wilderness, would you?”

The previous trip into the wilderness had left Bruce with considerable psychological trauma; this time, he was determined to improve the quality of their travel.

“Considering that we need to stop and camp at night, we can allocate less living space inside the vehicle, leaving only one bunk for shift rest while traveling during the day.”

Bruce meticulously planned, “We can connect the vehicle’s cooling system to a refrigerator, so we’ll have fresh food to eat, and this, and that… Oh, oh, oh, and the most important thing: a shower room!”

As Bruce spoke, the vague concept of the vehicle became concrete in Sirian’s mind—small but fully equipped.

“Oh, there’s one thing you need to consider, Sirian.”

Bruce suddenly stopped and asked, “We need to give the vehicle a name for identification. Do you have any ideas?”

“A name?”

Sirian crossed his arms and began to think seriously.

If all went well, this vehicle would accompany Sirian for a long journey and a long time; he couldn’t just choose a random name.

“You should think carefully. It’s best to choose a name with some meaning.”

Bruce reminded him, “Within our Myriad Machine Concordance Institute, there has always been a saying that names possess magic, and having a name is a prerequisite for an object to possess a soul.”

“Perhaps machinery has a soul.”

Soul.

Since the first day Sirian embarked on the Path of Destiny, he had repeatedly heard talk of the so-called soul.

It was not ethereal or illusory, but genuinely existent, residing within every person’s body, originating from the distant Sea of Origin.

Yet, even so, Sirian still didn’t have an accurate concept of the so-called soul, let alone Bruce claiming that machinery possessed one.

Sirian wasn’t troubled by this matter for long. A sudden, urgent ringing sound came from the bedroom.

His communicator was ringing.

Sirian answered the signal and heard a repeated broadcast.

“Emergency situation. All personnel, return to the City Guard Bureau immediately to report.”

Sirian’s expression grew serious.

The last time he received an emergency call was when Dailin informed him that Valerie had suffered an accident. This time, he clearly recognized the voice of the broadcast’s speaker: Dekar, the Director of the City Guard Bureau.

Bruce asked, “Did something happen?”

“It looks like it.”

Sirian quickly changed into his City Guard Bureau uniform, took out his loaded ammunition pouch, slipped his jet revolver into its holster, and gripped the blade of his boiling sword.

In the blink of an eye, he was fully armed.

“I’m leaving now.”

Having said that, Sirian, as usual, climbed over the balcony and leaped toward the ground.

Stepping onto the street, Sirian could clearly sense an invisible tension gripping Heer City’s throat.

On the wide asphalt road, a mounted police squad moved like a shifting black dike. The horses snorted heavily and pawed the ground anxiously, while the faces of the mounted police officers were taut.

Security Officers were scattered at street corners and alley entrances, waving their arms and sternly driving away lingering crowds.

“Go home! Go home immediately!”

The commotion spread through the crowd like ripples.

People hurried, looking panicked, pushing and shoving one another as they rushed in various directions.

Sirian rushed toward the City Guard Bureau, confused about what exactly had happened.

Just then, from the loudspeakers hanging deep within shops and high on buildings, an unusually clear, cold, and flat female voice rang out.

“Emergency announcement. The entire city is entering a temporary curfew state. All citizens are requested to immediately cease non-essential activities, quickly return to their residences, and close all doors and windows. The specific time of lifting the curfew will be announced separately. Thank you for your cooperation.”

The broadcast repeated again and again, offering no explanation, no reassurance, only stark orders.

Sirian hurried. By the time he arrived at the City Guard Bureau, the streets were empty, but the interior of the Bureau was packed. Almost all combat-capable personnel had arrived.

Everyone gathered in the first-floor office area. Among the crowded figures, Sirian saw Dailin and Anya, and even civilian staff like Elton and Meifuni were present.

Meifuni noticed Sirian’s gaze, turned her head, glared at him fiercely, and tried to push her way toward him.

“Ahem…”

A man’s cough silenced the staff’s whispers. Everyone looked up to see Dekar, the Director of the City Guard Bureau, standing on the stairs, looking down at everyone.

Without any preamble or passionate speech, Dekar simply stated coldly.

“We have successfully decapitated the Evil Claws’ high command. Tonight, we will launch an all-out assault and completely eradicate the remaining forces of the Evil Claws.”