Chapter 1475
Meanwhile.
After returning to her room, Hazel carefully placed the delicate pastries Julian had packed for her on the desk.
She stared at the pastry box, and Julian’s warm, elegant face involuntarily surfaced in her mind.
She slapped her own cheeks hard.
Good grief.
What was she thinking!
Just because Julian was such an incredible chef, she was actually starting to miss
him… or rather, his cooking, all because of some pastries!
She forced her attention away from the mouth-watering treats.
No.
She had already eaten enough.
Right now, she needed to get down to business.
Demon was still waiting for her!
She sat at her computer, carelessly tying up her vibrant red hair. Her slender fingers flew across the keyboard.
Strings of encrypted code danced rapidly across the screen.
The Ghost Alliance’s black-market database was peeled open layer by layer.
Whitecliffe Harbor’s dark web nodes.
Project Zero-Transit’s boarding channels.
The Raven-Plume Pass binding protocols.
The underground medical network’s identity archives.
All the data seamlessly linked together in her hands, filtering into the Whitecliffe Harbor black-market information web through the Ghost Alliance’s exclusive dark web channels.
She needed to set up a brand-new identity for Demon.
She had to ensure this persona would keep Demon absolutely safe.
As Hazel typed, her gaze drifted back to the pastries.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to look away.
No!
Focus!
She had to focus!
Meanwhile.
In Serena’s room.
She sat at her desk, her slender fingers moving rapidly over the keys. She watched the data stream codes flashing on the screen, continuously analyzing the core data of the electronic invitation.
She raised an eyebrow.
The Raven-Plume Pass sent by The Raven was obviously bait.
As long as that pass was used, regardless of the identity bound to it, The Raven
would know immediately p>
That she, Serena, had entered the game.
Since the other party had set a trap for her to walk straight into.
Why would she be so cooperative?
And this bait, ironically, had now become her clue to tracking them down.
Her fingers typed faster.
The inescapable digital net she had cast across the network spread overwhelmingly, tracing along the electronic invitation.
She watched as countless lines of code completely devoured the invitation bearing the raven totem.
Only then did she slowly stop typing.
At that moment, an encrypted file from Hazel popped up on the screen.
She opened it.
A brand-new black-market identity profile unfolded on the screen. Serena scanned it. The background was simple but highly effective.
The Panacea. A rising star in the international underground medical scene. Expert in stabilizing genetic rejection, synthesizing specialized restorative agents, and rescuing failed experimental specimens.
Low-profile, mysterious, entirely driven by money, and only accepted exorbitant commissions.
Extremely capable, but possessed questionable credibility. Known to be a ruthless opportunist.
Reading the final line, Serena raised an eyebrow and immediately initiated a video call with Hazel.
The call connected instantly.
The red-haired woman was sitting cross-legged on her chair, happily munching on a beautifully crafted pastry. “How is it? Perfect, right p>
Serena’s gaze landed on the treat in her hand, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You set me up as a fraud p>
“What do you mean, fraud?” Hazel corrected her righteously. “This is a high-risk black-market persona perfectly tailored to the local customs of Whitecliffe Harbor p>
Serena remained silent.
Hazel continued explaining seriously while chewing. “A place like Whitecliffe Harbor is too dirty for a clean background. If you show up acting like a saintly savior of modern medicine, no one will buy it.