Chapter 628: A Bad Invitation

Cessy checked the copied dispatch’s wax seal in the cistern passage and recognized Malakor’s retrieval syntax before opening it with her thumb.

Cessy traced her fingertip over the wax seal of the copied parchment dispatch, recognizing the stylized sigil immediately.

"The phrasing uses the third underworld retrieval syntax," she noted, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

"Only one operative writes with that exact mixture of polite flattery and veiled extortion."

"An old acquaintance of yours?" Lucan asked, leaning against the passage wall with his arms loosely crossed.

"A broker named Malakor," she answered, handing the parchment to the underworld swordsman.

"He brokers escaped underworld defectors and sells their location coordinates back to the royal courts."

"He thinks I am hiding in the mortal provinces like a frightened stray animal waiting to be collared."

"Does he know you are aligned with a celestial summoner?" Lucan inquired, scanning the encrypted runes.

"He knows nothing of our summoner’s domain or our compact with the Sixth," she replied, shaking her head.

"He wants to meet in the auxiliary drainage gallery beneath the main cistern valve."

"Do you want me to bring the summoner’s clones to surround the perimeter?" he offered, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she replied firmly, checking the concealed dagger sheaths strapped inside her cuffs.

"Malakor smells celestial mana from a league away... if he detects Hajin’s aura, he dissolves into mist."

"You and I walk into the passage openly as two underworld exiles looking for passage home."

"A believable cover story," Lucan agreed with a grim smirk, adjusting the dual daggers at his hips.

"Just make sure he does not slip a collar around your neck while you are trading pleasantries."

"He will lose his fingers before his collar touches my skin," she promised, stepping down the dripping corridor.

Fifty paces down the service passage, an iron grille opened into a vaulted chamber illuminated by phosphorescent moss.

A slender man in high-collared velvet robes stood beside a dry sluice gate, holding a silver pocket chronometer.

"Cessy... how delightful to see you still breathing the air of the upper world," the broker purred with a bow.

"I feared your little excursion with that mortal summoner ended in a shallow grave on the frontier."

"Spare me the theatrical concern, Malakor," she said coldly, stopping ten paces from the sluice gate.

"You did not leave three encrypted dead-drops along the river road just to ask after my health."

"Straight to business, as always," Malakor chuckled, snapping his chronometer shut with a soft metallic click.

"I have an offer from your former house... a full royal pardon and safe passage back to the Underworld."

"All you have to do is accept this modest retrieval seal," he said, producing a dark glass needle from his sleeve.

"One prick against your core meridian, and the wardens verify your biological identity."

"And if I refuse your generous pardon?"

"You cannot refuse," the broker hissed, his polite smile vanishing as two masked enforcers stepped from the shadows.

"The Underworld King demands your return, and I am not leaving this cistern without my bounty!"

He lunged forward with blinding supernatural speed, driving the dark glass needle straight toward her exposed throat.

Cessy did not flinch, retreat, or reach for help from the swordsman standing near the entrance.

She pivoted on the balls of her feet, letting the needle graze her collar before catching his wrist in a vice-like grip.

With a flick of her left sleeve, a slender stiletto dropped into her palm, glistening under the pale moss light.

Her blade slashed across the broker’s right wrist with terrifying precision, sending the glass needle shattering onto the stones.

"My hand!" Malakor shrieked, clutching his bleeding wrist as he stumbled backward toward the sluice gate.

The two masked enforcers rushed to defend their master, but Lucan intercepted them with a whirlwind of flashing steel.

Before the enforcers could draw their weapons, Lucan struck both men with the weighted pommels of his daggers.

Both enforcers collapsed onto the flagstones, thoroughly knocked out before their bodies could hit the water.

Cessy stepped over the fallen enforcers, pressing the tip of her stiletto against the broker’s trembling throat.

"You forgot one minor detail, Malakor," she whispered, her eyes burning with glacial demonic fury.

"I never asked for a pardon... and I am never returning to your cage!"

"Wait... mercy!" the broker gasped, raising his uninjured hand in frantic supplication.

"Take my route book... take everything I have... just let me crawl back to the surface!"

She reached inside his velvet coat, retrieving a bound record volume stamped with the seal of the viaduct logistics corps.

"Surrender the cipher key," she commanded, pressing the blade just enough to draw a bead of crimson.

"The key is eighteen... seventy-two... four!" he babbed, terrified of the murderous resolve in her gaze.

She withdrew her dagger, wiping the blade on his lapel before stepping back toward the exit.

"Run while you still have legs to carry you," she warned, gesturing toward the southern drainage pipe.

Malakor did not need to be told twice, scrambling through the pipe in frantic panic without looking back once.

Lucan walked over, nudging one of the unconscious enforcers with the toe of his shoe.

"Clean work," he commended, sheathing his weapons with a soft sigh.

"Did you find the coordinates for the rehearsal chamber?"

Cessy flipped through the handwritten pages of the route book, pausing at a folded parchment map of the cisterns.

She carefully tore out one personal page regarding her former house, tucking the scrap into her pocket.

"The rehearsal chamber is located directly beneath the primary waterworks reservoir," she reported, showing Lucan the map.

"And according to this schedule, the main intake valve must remain fully open to maintain water pressure for their drills."

"Which means if we control that valve, we control the entire rehearsal," Lucan deduced with a sharp grin.

"Exactly... and that valve is yours to command," she said, handing him the operational diagrams.

"The guard captain in the valve hall will not surrender his post without a fight," Lucan observed, studying the patrol rotations.

"He carries a Choral relay tool to reinforce his perimeter wards."

"Then you disconnect his relay and take his sword," Cessy replied with a cold, dismissive smirk.

"I have complete faith in your blade, brother."

"We bring this route book back to the summoner and Ferra right now," Lucan suggested, pointing down the dry passage.

"Ferra can verify the hydraulic tolerances while our companions position the clones around the upper bypass."

"Agreed," Cessy answered, slipping her stiletto back into its wrist sheath.

"The Underworld courts sent their best broker to drag me backward, but they only handed us the keys to their defeat."

High above the subterranean passage, the celestial broadcast screen lit up with roaring cheers and vibrant superchats.

[ Seoul_Tactician: "CESSY IS RUTHLESS! Slicing the broker’s wrist without blinking an eye!" ]

[ StarlightScholar: "Cessy tore out her personal page before anyone could read it. Let her keep that one thing private!" ]

[ IronVanguard: "Lucan handling the bodyguards in two seconds flat, the underworld duo is undefeated!" ]

[ HearthKeeper: "The main cistern valve is the key. Lucan, can your mark reach it from here?" ]

[ ShadowMage44: "The Choral garrison is getting systematically dismantled from the inside out!" ]

Together, the two exiles walked out of the dripping drainage tunnel, carrying the blueprint that would seal the enemy’s fate.