While Mokaka was giving her speech and answering questions from the military, Yang Qian was seated in the audience, his hands tightly in his pockets, gripping the black slender needle he had pulled many strings to smuggle past security. His palms were slick with oily sweat.
Everything Mokaka said was, in fact, viewpoints this young woman had always championed online; nothing particularly special.
But attending the talk in person felt different from watching it online.
Yang Qian greatly admired Mokaka, truly admired her, especially when she talked about increasing taxes on the wealthy and improving social security chanisms and advancent chanisms for the lower classes. Yang Qian was almost in awe.
Indeed, if there had been such a mayoral leader when he first started working, perhaps he wouldn't have had to undergo a chemical sterilization operation to compete for a job at a giant corporation.
If Mokaka could truly carry on smoothly, then in the future, she could definitely beco a great benefactor of Lower City's citizens...
Yet despite this, Yang Qian still decided to take action.
He felt he wasn't awakened enough; what did the life and death of Lower City's people have to do with him? Although he also grew up in Lower City and sotis sympathized with those who couldn't even fill their bellies, that sympathy always remained on a psychological level.
Yang Qian knew he was selfish. Compared to civilians, he preferred to have a better life, and killing Mokaka was his first step towards completely crossing classes.
In this era, to climb higher always requires so opportunity...
"This is not about right or wrong, it's rely a difference in stance."
He comforted himself in his heart, at the sa ti feeling fortunate that he was so lucky.
After Mokaka finished her speech, she voluntarily stepped down from the heavily guarded podium and ca to the audience to drink with the guests.
For Yang Qian, this was the best opportunity.
The activation thod of the black silver needle—Black Burial, required getting within three ters of the target and maintaining that distance for 10 minutes, ensuring the target was always within his line of sight.
This condition wasn't hard, but it wasn't easy either.
Three ters is an ambiguous number.
For those distinguished guests present, let alone three ters, they could even toast face-to-face with Mokaka, and talking for ten minutes wasn't a big deal.
But for soone like him, with a tourist identity, getting within five ters of Mokaka was already very difficult, let alone three ters, and for ten minutes...
Nonetheless, Yang Qian always had patience, and he was quite lucky too.
About two hours later, Mokaka seed a bit tired; she whispered a few words to the maid-guard next to her, then quietly changed into a low-key outfit, put on a hood, and slipped away into a corner to take a break.
Since most guests were already tipsy by now, no one noticed Mokaka's departure.
At this mont, Yang Qian knew, his chance had co!
He glanced around.
Despite the maid beside Mokaka... and the girl in a black robe sitting in the garden and staring at Mokaka from afar looking quite nacing, this was the best mont to act.
If he waited until Mokaka recovered and rejoined the party, he would have no chance at all.
"Hoo..."
Yang Qian took a deep breath and made his decision.
He quietly peeled off the tape wrapping the silver needle, then took out a pocket watch and silently set the tir for ten minutes.
"Ten minutes, start."
He murmured the ti and headed towards Mokaka.
Three ters is quite an ambiguous distance.
Even though Mokaka was in a corner, the three ters around her were still bustling, with servers and guests passing by frequently.
Blending into the crowd wasn't difficult, and he had previously undergone surgery to alter his appearance and physique.
Now, even if his master—Enfield Collection stood right in front of him, they wouldn't recognize him as the forr Yang Qian.
Mokaka wouldn't recognize him.
But the problem was, blending in close to Mokaka was easy, but staying there for ten minutes was exceptionally troubleso... because the constant flow of people might lower the target's guard, but soone who stood silently by her side for ten minutes would undoubtedly seem suspicious.
Perhaps it wouldn't even take ten minutes before the maid beside her took notice.
So Yang Qian was cunning; he intentionally stayed by Mokaka's side for a while, fidgeting, putting on airs as if he was shyly in awe, like a little fan eting their idol, awestruck yet too bashful to strike up a conversation.
Sure enough, half a minute later, the maid beside him noticed his presence, furrowing her brow slightly but not imdiately expelling or confronting him, instead just observing him silently.
Suddenly, an invisible pressure descended upon Yang Qian.
At that mont, Yang Qian realized that this white-haired maid was most definitely an Apprentice Death God, and at a considerable level too, at least Tier Three.
He instinctively felt a hint of fear, but on his face, he maintained a look of admiration.
Yang Qian, of course, knew that Death Gods had strong perception abilities, with so in the Special Sequence even possessing foreknowledge... but the Black Burial Silver Needle in his pocket was no ordinary object either.
This artifact, reportedly acquired by the Collection Clan from so bigwig, was said to be extrely elusive, and once activated, even Galland Collection, a Tier Four Death God, told him he would absolutely sense no abnormalities whatsoever.
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