Fang Cheng couldn’t help but let his mind wander. The realm he eagerly anticipated, the awakening of mythic Talent, now seemed not so unattainable after all. With a soft exhale, Fang Cheng calmed the slight restlessness in his chest. Then, with agile grace, he flipped his body, landing silently on a thick horizontal branch like a weightless feather. He shook his arms that had been exerting force, feeling a pleasant soreness from deep within his muscles. Fang Cheng did not continue with high-intensity training. Conserving energy to meet the upcoming battle in the best condition was the wisest choice. Just as the thought crossed his mind, Fang Cheng suddenly sensed something. A faint and indistinct Spiritual Link ripple was like a small stone cast into a calm lake, creating slight ripples. It seemed Xu Hao had already collected some valuable information. However, that guy appeared to be hesitating about something, not yet passing on specific messages to him. Fang Cheng curved his lips into a slight smile, not taking the initiative to urge him. He relaxed and casually sat cross-legged on the thick branch with a wide view. Like an old monk in meditation, he quietly gazed at everything below the mountain. Time silently passed, second by second, in this waiting. The clouds in the sky grew thicker, like overturned ink slowly spreading. Light and shadow changed rapidly on the ground. The outlines of distant buildings started to blur in the dim light. At some moment, the sky suddenly darkened completely, as though prematurely entering dusk. Fang Cheng abruptly looked up at the overcast, leaden sky. In his heart, he thought silently, "It’s going to rain." The darkness of the suburbs was more pure and oppressive than in the city center. Large raindrops, carried by a violent wind, poured down fiercely. The sound of the wind howled, like ghosts wailing, echoing in the empty streets. The light from the street lamps turned vague and dim in the rain, barely outlining the rushing water on the road. Weather nearly cut off all unnecessary outings. The lonely white building of Chenxi Home shone with several warm lamps amidst the storm, like a lone boat struggling in a raging sea. After the rain started pouring, volunteers and philanthropists who had come to visit the children over the weekend mostly left in a hurry while the rain was still light. After all, no one wanted to be trapped in this remote suburb. Cheng Jiashu and a few guests who felt uncomfortable leaving immediately had a simple meal with the orphanage’s director and staff in the canteen. After dinner, the rain showed no sign of stopping and actually intensified. The group could only stay in the hall, watching the weather outside while waiting idly for the rain to lessen. Li, the new director who had recently taken the position, was a woman in her early fifties, with a kind face, a hint of fatigue from long-term work on her brow, but her eyes were warm. She was speaking with a middle-aged man who seemed quite distinguished, thanking him for his generous donations to the orphanage. "Director Li, you’re too kind." The gentleman smiled, speaking with praise: "Ever since you took over Chenxi Home, the children here look refreshed, and the environment has improved a lot. We, who do charity, are happy to see it." "This is all thanks to the strong support of kind-hearted people from all walks of life. I’m just doing my part," Director Li replied modestly, waving her hand: "The healthy growth of the children depends on everyone’s care. What I can do is make sure every bit of donation is used effectively, letting the children feel the warmth of society..." Cheng Jiashu sat on a sofa a little farther away, quietly listening to their conversation, while his gaze occasionally drifted to the window. Rainwater carved twisted light patterns on the glass, blurring the world outside. He harbored matters in his heart, responding absentmindedly to occasional attempts at small talk from nearby guests. However, his gaze would involuntarily drift towards the girl sitting quietly in the wheelchair in the corner. The rain seemed endless. Amidst the thunder and lightning, it felt as if the sky had torn open a giant hole. After a while, seeing the rain was too heavy, the remaining guests had no choice but to bravely leave in groups, venturing out into the rain. Cheng Jiashu flipped through a picture magazine seemingly at ease, but in reality, he focused his mind, listening intently. He expanded his Perception Ability to its fullest, like ripples constantly spreading outward. Inside and outside the orphanage, all is calm, except for the sound of wind and rain, there is no other disturbance. The children have all turned off the lights and fallen asleep in their dormitory. He frowned slightly, but the unease in his heart did not diminish. Instead, due to this unusual calmness, it grew heavier. The clock on the wall ticks, the hour hand moves inch by inch, pointing to the 10 o’clock position. At this moment, in the empty hall. Besides Cheng Jiashu, there is only Director Li, a young assistant, and the girl in the wheelchair who has been quietly staying in the corner. Director Li covers her mouth and yawns, with obvious fatigue showing in the corners of her eyes. "Mr. Su, the rain is so heavy, it doesn’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon. Why not stay here for the night?" She looked at Cheng Jiashu, with a hint of inquiry in her voice. Cheng Jiashu’s registered alias here is Su Jichen. "Director Li, you all should go to rest first." Cheng Jiashu replied calmly: "I’ve arranged for a friend to come pick me up, should be here soon. I’ll drive away by myself later." Director Li nodded and then turned to the girl in the wheelchair in the corner, gently saying, "Yong’er, you’re not too mobile, stay here for the night. I’ll ask Assistant Wang to tidy up for you, the same room as before." The girl addressed as Yong’er raised her eyes and softly responded: "Okay, thank you, Director Li and Assistant Wang." Her voice is very pleasant, as clean and clear as spring water. Her manner is extremely polite, carrying a kind of gentle elegance of a well-bred lady. Yet her face is excessively pale, making her eyes appear strikingly sharp, emanating a calmness beyond her years. She seems very familiar with Director Li, obviously having spent many nights at the orphanage before. With the help of Director Li and the assistant, Yong’er wheeled herself out of the hall. Before leaving, her clear eyes briefly examined Cheng Jiashu again. She always felt this man was very mysterious, his gaze towards her a bit odd. Unlike others, either directly frivolous or curiously peering. His gaze carried a habitual caution, as if observing everything in the dark. Between them is a mere nodding acquaintance, in over half a year, they have exchanged only a few words. Yet Yong’er, naturally sensitive, instinctively feels this Mr. Su is hiding some dangerous secret, prompting her to keep her distance. After Director Li and Yong’er left, the hall fell completely silent. Cheng Jiashu set aside the magazine in his hand, his gaze again directed out the window, looking at the world swallowed by darkness and violent rain. He’d been waiting all night, yet had not seen the anticipated assassin dispatched by the Noah Organization. Cheng Jiashu was filled with doubt. The anonymous note had clearly warned him that the Noah Organization would take retaliatory action against Chenxi Home tonight. But why, up until now, has there been no movement? Could the intel be wrong? Or did the other side change their plan? Or perhaps, this was a trap aimed at him, with the real target not being the orphanage. But to lure him into appearing, to test his boundaries? Cheng Jiashu stared at the window blurred by rain, his mind racing, analyzing various possibilities. A security guard on night duty happened to pass by the hall, seeing Cheng Jiashu still there alone, a trace of surprise flickered in his eyes. But he didn’t ask anything, just nodded, and continued with his work. Cheng Jiashu took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. No matter what, he had to wait. Patience, at least, was one of his few virtues. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent postcards to Fang Cheng three times in a row, persistently waiting for a response. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning tore through the ink-like rolling clouds. The world outside, pitch-black, was momentarily illuminated as if it were daylight. Cheng Jiashu’s gaze flickered, as if he caught some overlooked detail. A thought, like a lightning bolt piercing the night, suddenly illuminated his mind.