William felt the lining of his tactical suit soaking with cold sweat.
The damp, cold fabric clung tightly to his back.
The woman standing at the alley entrance brought with her a pure, overwhelming sense of oppression.
It wasn't the concentrated, needle-like killing intent of Daredevil.
Nor was it the innate aura of a martial arts grandmaster like Iron Fist.
Instead, it was a pure, bone-deep indifference to life.
In her eyes, everything in the World, including herself, was merely a tool to achieve a goal, something that could be valued, consumed, and discarded at any time.
Her two bodyguards stood as still as pines, unmoving.
Their eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, and they exuded a strong scent of iron and blood, clearly not ordinary street thugs.
That was the absolute calmness and efficiency of professional soldiers, honed through countless life-and-death struggles.
"I…"
William's Adam's apple bobbed.
His brain was working at a burning speed.
Countless thoughts and excuses flashed in the depths of his consciousness, only to be completely rejected the moment they met her cold gaze.
How could he explain?
Should he say he had awakened a catnip-like physique, and all the cats in New York wanted to cuddle him?
He had no doubt that the moment those words left his mouth, he would be dismembered into seventeen or eighteen pieces by the two bodyguards with their tactical Daggers, then dissolved with strong acid, leaving not a trace of DNA.
The Ragdoll cat in his arms seemed completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere.
It even went a step further, rubbing its fluffy cheek against William's chin with extreme affection.
A thunderous purr rumbled in its throat, and its tail tip trembled slightly in contentment.
"Put it down."
The woman's voice was devoid of warmth, like a shard of ice, carrying no emotion.
William's mouth twisted into a stiff, uglier-than-crying arc as he tried to put the 'sweet bomb' in his arms, which could explode at any moment, back on the ground.
The moment he moved, the Ragdoll cat hooked its four paws tightly onto his tactical vest.
Its tiny claws even dug into the nylon fibers.
It let out a deeply wronged "Meow—."
Its large, sapphire-like eyes were even clouded with a visible film of Water, like a resentful woman about to be cruelly abandoned.
A flicker of emotion appeared in the eyes of the woman at the alley entrance, eyes usually full of killing intent.
It was like a scientist's gaze of… scrutiny and inquiry upon discovering an unknown microorganism.
There's a chance!
William's nerves twitched violently; he immediately caught this fleeting change.
The instinct for survival overrode his fear.
He cleared his throat, a compassionate, all-knowing 'Master' smile gracing his face.
"Madame, it seems you've encountered some trouble."
He spoke, his voice not loud, but unusually clear, reaching the alley entrance.
"Your cat, it's not happy."
"What… do you know?"
The woman's tone was still cold, but in the end of her sentence, there was a hint of urgency she herself hadn't noticed.
"I know everything."
William began his most practiced performance, talking nonsense with a straight face.
"Animal souls are pure; their joys, angers, sorrows, and delights are far more direct than humans."
"It's not being affectionate with me; it's asking for my help."
He gently stroked the Ragdoll cat's soft fur, his movements as professional as a pet psychologist with thirty years of experience.
His gaze was compassionate and profound.
"It can feel my aura. A… an energy field that makes it feel calm and peaceful. It's telling me its soul is withering."
William was almost convinced by his own words.
In fact, what he was thinking was: System, you damned scammer!
What is the principle behind this cursed ability?
Am I really emitting a catnip scent?
"Soul… withering?"
The woman repeated the word, a hint of undetectable severity flashing in her eyes.
She took a few steps forward.
The bodyguards behind her immediately followed, their heavy footsteps echoing in the narrow alley.
"It has… it hasn't eaten properly for three weeks."
There was an unmistakable trace of irritation in her voice, a leakage of emotion that surprised even her.
"I've searched for the best biologists and genetic engineers, but none can find the reason. They all say its physiological indicators are normal, but its 'vitality' is decreasing."
Just then, a prompt sounded in William's mind.
[Ding! Potential client "Ophelia Sarkissian" detected.]
[Target characteristics: HYDRA high-ranking leader (Madame Hydra / Viper), head of a terrorist organization, leader of the Serpent Society, biochemical and toxin expert.]
[Current status: Troubled by the abnormal condition of her sole "biological asset" (pet cat).]
[System suggestion: Can try to promote "Special Biological Asset Vitality Assurance," "Base Security and Anti-Infiltration Insurance," "Global Terrorist Operation Accidental Liability Insurance."]
A series of cold, mechanical beeps exploded in his mind.
Crap!
HYDRA???
William forcibly suppressed his wildly beating heart, his expression becoming even more unfathomable.
"Madame, that's because they only see the physical problems."
William's tone was filled with professional confidence.
"But its problem lies in the mental, and even… the soul level. It needs professional 'energy conditioning' and 'emotional risk management.'"
"Energy conditioning? Emotional risk management?"
Sarkissian clearly scoffed at these mystical terms, but her pet's reaction made it impossible for her to ignore the explanation.
"Exactly."
William, holding the cat, calmly walked towards her.
The two Agents' muscles instantly tensed, wanting to stop him, but they were halted by a look from the woman.
William stopped in front of her and gently handed over the cat in his arms.
A miracle occurred.
The Ragdoll cat, which had refused to let go just moments ago, now docilely allowed Sarkissian to take it.
But its eyes still looked at William with lingering reluctance.
A satisfied "purr purr" sound still emanated from its throat.
This detail deepened the look of inquiry in Sarkissian's eyes.
"This is not the place to talk."
She held her "asset" tightly, looking at William with the same scrutiny one would give a new weapon.
"My car is outside. I think we need to have a good talk."
William's heart tightened, but his face still held that calm, unhurried smile.
"Of course, Madame."
He bowed slightly, his posture as elegant as a medieval noble.
"It is my honor to resolve my clients' worries."
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