Chapter Eight: The Silent Raven
The rain in London finally stopped for a moment, but the sky remained overcast and leaden, and the damp, cold air felt like it could be wrung out of water.
Deep within the labyrinthine headquarters of the Xuyue Organization, in the intelligence center of "Raven" Muye, a constant, cold white light dispelled the changing colors of the outside world. Time here was measured only by precise clocks and the rhythm of the intelligence flow.
Mu sat behind her desk, her medium-length emerald green hair meticulously tied into a low bun, revealing a clear and pale facial contour.
She wore a plain, dark gray suit, blending in with the cold, technical equipment around her.
His silver-gray eyes were intently scanning the paper tape, covered with complex codes, that the telegraph machine had just spat out.
Her fingers were long and steady, and occasionally she would pick up an extremely fine pen and quickly write down the corresponding plain text in the codebook next to her, her movements as precise as a scalpel.
This is an encrypted message from a deep informant planted within Scotland Yard, concerning the subtle shift in the police's recent attitude towards several major gangs in the East End.
Mu Ye's brain was working at lightning speed, like a highly efficient intelligence processing machine, cross-referencing and analyzing new information with the massive amount of existing data—reports from other informants, marginal news in newspapers, rumors circulating on the black market, and even some seemingly unrelated records of social activities.
A few minutes later, she picked up the internal phone and connected to Gongyang Yandaosi's line. Her voice was calm, without any pleasantries, and she went straight to the point:
"Gram, intensifying factional infighting within Scotland Yard. The old guard's growing reliance on 'non-traditional' revenue sources could put pressure on the existing order. It is recommended that over the next two weeks, the frequency of all 'special cargo' transshipment related to the docklands be reduced by 20 percent, and alternative overland routes via Birmingham be used. The 'earnest money' standard for relevant contacts be increased by 15 percent."
A calm reply came from the other end of the phone: "Received. The detailed adjustment plan will be sent to you for review in one hour."
"Okay," Mu Ye said, and then hung up the phone.
The entire exchange lasted less than thirty seconds, was efficient and precise, and contained no unnecessary emotions.
This is the norm for her daily work: extracting key, actionable intelligence from a vast and chaotic jumble of information fragments and transforming it into concrete strategic recommendations to maintain the organization's balance and security in the turbulent London underworld.
After processing this urgent intelligence, she signaled to a subordinate to take over monitoring the radio.
She stood up and walked towards the row of tall filing cabinets.
These cabinets contain information far more deadly than police updates: files on core members of rival gangs, evidence of scandals involving key politicians, analysis of vault vulnerabilities in banks, and even scattered records of certain chemical weapons formulas... These are the organization's fangs, and the cornerstone of Mu Ye's power.
She deftly opened one of the drawers marked with complex symbols, took out a thin file containing preliminary findings on a newly emerging arms dealer. She needed to assess whether this person had the potential to be developed into a long-term informant or to eliminate targets.
Her work perfectly embodied the codename "Raven"—calm, meticulous, and insightful, always observing, collecting, and analyzing from the shadows, weaving an invisible yet powerful web of information. Organization members held her in awe, but almost no one dared to get close to her. Like the machines she controlled, she was reliable, but lacked human warmth.
However, beneath this cold and efficient exterior lies an absolutely forbidden secret space that belongs only to her.
Once the busiest time of day has passed, Mu dismisses everyone around her and locks herself in a soundproof room at the far end of the analysis lab. There are no files, no machines, only a simple table and a chair.
Only here would a tiny crack appear on the unchanging professional mask on her face.
She would take out an item carefully wrapped in black silk from the inside pocket of her suit.
Unfold the silk, and inside is a slightly worn, simple silver hair clip.
The hair clip itself wasn't expensive, but the way Mu looked at it revealed a complex emotion, almost pious, that was completely different from her usual demeanor.
This hair clip belongs to Xuyue. More precisely, it belongs to Xuyue many years ago, before it became known as the "Saltwater Crocodile," and when its code name was still "Silver Hair."
Fragments of memory quietly surfaced.
That was shortly after Xu Yue had "reclaimed" her from that smaller underground intelligence group rife with dirty deals and betrayals. At that time, Mu Ye was more closed off and suspicious than she is now, like a wounded and extremely wary young animal.
It was Xu Yue who, in an undeniable yet strangely comforting way, provided her with a sanctuary and unprecedented resources.
After a mission, Xu Yue's hair was a little disheveled, so she casually took off the hair clip and handed it to her, asking her to hold it for her.
At that moment, being close to Xu Yue and feeling the calm aura emanating from her that did not stem from tyranny but from powerful control, something frozen in Mu Ye's heart seemed to crack open.
Xu Yue seemed to have forgotten to retrieve the hair clip, or perhaps she simply didn't care. But Mu Ye secretly kept it.
It became a silent emotional connection between her and Xuyue, existing only on her side.
It symbolizes the second life that the moon gave her, and the source of her absolute loyalty.
For Mu Ye, Xu Yue was not merely the leader of the organization.
She was the light that pulled her out of the mire, the only compass that guided her forward.
This feeling was a mixture of gratitude, admiration, and a deeper dependence and identification that she herself might not have fully understood. She was willing to do anything for Xuyue, including the dirtiest and most shady intelligence operations.
Her loyalty was absolute, unquestionable, and transcended life and death.
That's why she was even more afraid of losing it. Mu Ye was more rational than anyone else.
She was well aware of the cruelty of the underworld and the many enemies the Xuyue organization had made.
She had witnessed too many seemingly stable empires collapse overnight. The prospect of Xuyue encountering misfortune, the organization disintegrating, and her losing her only "coordinate" once again was the most unbearable nightmare in her heart.
To deal with this ultimate nightmare, which has even a one in ten thousand chance, she began another top-secret task—a task that even Xu Yue herself was unaware of.
She opened a hidden compartment in the table; inside were not weapons, but several notebooks written in special codes.
These notes systematically and covertly record almost all the key transactions, purges, and bribery networks that could constitute serious evidence of wrongdoing since the organization's inception.
Its level of detail is sufficient to serve as the most valuable bargaining chip in negotiations with any power at crucial moments.
Her motive for doing this was not betrayal. On the contrary, it was a twisted manifestation of her extreme loyalty.
Her logic was cold and extreme: if one day, Xuyue met with misfortune and the organization faced annihilation, she would need to possess a sufficiently powerful "weapon" to protect the legacy Xuyue might leave behind—perhaps West Asia, perhaps the organization's core secrets, or... at least to avenge Xuyue and make the enemy pay an unbearable price.
These pieces of evidence were her last trump card, prepared for that darkest moment, a means to perish together with the enemy, or her negotiating leverage to save her a sliver of hope.
This is a near-desperate insurance measure built on absolute loyalty.
She collects these things like a raven collects shiny objects, not to show off or for use, but out of an instinct to protect the nest and her mate, a primal urge to store "food" for the coming winter.
She would rather bear this secret, which might be seen as "disloyalty," than compromise her ability to do something for Xuyue in any extreme situation.
She carefully wrapped the hairpin in silk again, tucked it away close to her body, and locked the secret notebook back in its hidden compartment. Mu Ye's face returned to its usual coldness. She left the secret room and rejoined the buzzing daily operations of the intelligence center.
In the evening, she needed to give a report in person to Xuyue on the latest analysis of the flow of military fire in continental Europe. She prepared the report and headed to Xuyue's office.
At the entrance, she encountered Ram, who had just come out. They exchanged a glance and nodded slightly, as if to greet each other. Ram's gaze remained steady yet scrutinizing, while Mu responded with her usual indifference.
Entering Xu Yue's office, she was enveloped by that familiar atmosphere—a mixture of power, calmness, and a hint of danger. Xu Yue was standing in front of the map; hearing the sound, she turned around. Her gray eyes fell on Mu Ye, with their usual sharpness.
"Raven, is there any new development?" Xu Yue's voice was calm, yet it carried an imposing aura.
Mu stepped forward, handed over the report, and began to report in her calm, professional tone, highlighting the key points and presenting a clear logic.
Throughout the process, her gaze remained respectfully fixed on Xu Yue's shoulders and below, avoiding direct eye contact. This was a habit she had cultivated over a long period, both to show respect and to conceal the unspeakable emotional fluctuations deep within her heart.
Xu Yue listened attentively, occasionally asking one or two insightful questions.
Mu Ye answered each question. Their communication was like the meshing of the most precise gears—efficient, tacit, and requiring no extra words. This absolute trust and tacit understanding at work was the very oxygen Mu Ye relied on for survival.
After the report, Xu Yue nodded. "Follow up according to your analysis. You will also be responsible for intelligence support for contacting Lian Yeyi."
"Understood." Mu bowed, preparing to leave.
"Mu Ye," Xu Yue suddenly called out to her.
Mu stopped in her tracks, looked up, and met Xu Yue's gray eyes that seemed to see right through people. Her heart skipped a beat almost imperceptibly.
"Take care of yourself. Your complexion is paler than usual." Xu Yue's tone remained calm, but the content of her words stirred a barely perceptible ripple in Mu Ye's heart.
"...Yes. Thank you for your concern, Boss Yin." She quickly changed her tune, lowered her head to conceal any emotions that might be revealed in her eyes, and turned to leave the office.
Walking down the corridor back to the intelligence center, Mu Ye's mind was in turmoil.
That simple word of concern weighed heavily on her ears. It further strengthened her belief that everything she had done, whether it was the efficient intelligence work in the public eye or the secretive preparations she made behind the scenes for the worst-case scenario, was worthwhile.
To protect this light and compass she cherished as her life, she was willing to forever dwell in the shadow of the Crow Throne, becoming the most silent and deadliest watcher.
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