The hidden agent definitely hadn’t gone far and was still watching the deck passage, but as long as there was some distance, Brian Carter had his ways.

A flick of the wrist sent an arrow flying, embedding itself in the ship’s side several yards away. The sound was much like that of a grappling hook or some other climbing tool hitting the hull. Amidst the commotion of moving shadows and lights flaring up at the bow, Brian Carter nimbly flipped his body, slipped across the deck, and clung to the outside of the cabin where the light was shining.

Hanging from the outer edge of the window lattice was an inconspicuous purple vine. Brian Carter had never seen it before; it hung at an angle over the window, looking more like a decorative plant.

Brian Carter observed it carefully, one hand gripping the edge, the fingers of his other hand slowly approaching. Even when he was just an inch away, there was no reaction, which made Brian Carter a bit puzzled. Had he misjudged?

Shaking his head, he edged even closer. Only when he was about to touch the vine did he feel a pulse of spiritual energy at his fingertips.

Taking a deep breath, Brian Carter dared not move recklessly. This was a living spiritual medium vine—who knew how much effort a spellcaster had put into cultivating it, only to use it as a window restriction for this woman? Wasn’t that a bit too extravagant?!

This thing was a completely different concept from the withered vine dart used by the person who had chased him earlier. The withered vine required activation by the user and had a strong magical aura, making it easy to detect. But this living spiritual medium vine was just like an ordinary plant; unless you deliberately tried to touch or probe it, you’d never know it was there.

If it hadn’t been for that soft, charming female voice earlier revealing the presence of a magical restriction, Brian Carter wouldn’t have thought to check. If he’d recklessly climbed through the window, he’d probably have been instantly bound tight by the vine and become a prisoner.

Just this one spiritual medium vine was enough to prove that the people on this boat were no ordinary aristocrats—even the great martial sects didn’t have such flair. The true heritage of noble families was often shown in these details.

Chapter Four: The Unwelcome Guest

Pulling out a small wooden trowel from his person—an everyday tool Brian Carter used on missions, and one that his good friend Helen Clark had specially prepared for him—it was just what he needed now.

Spiritual medium plants weren’t sensitive to wooden objects. Brian Carter carefully used the trowel to lift the purple vine, clearing a path past the window lattice. He wedged the trowel into the gap in the window to keep the vine from falling, then gripped the ship’s side with one hand and pried open the window with the other. After making sure there was no danger, he flipped himself up onto the deck with the agility of a sparrowhawk, gently pushed open the window, and slipped inside the boat.

Brian Carter pressed himself carefully into a corner, making sure not to let his body touch the cabin wall—water stains would give him away, so he had to minimize the risk of exposure. He strained to let his eyes adjust to the brightness of the room.

It was clearly a bedroom. Pale yellow curtains were casually draped, and an oval bronze mirror on the dressing table reflected Brian Carter’s dripping wet body in sharp detail.

Brian Carter looked around. The room was spacious but tastefully arranged. The carved couch was neatly covered with folded brocade quilts, and the embroidered birds and flowers on the needlework were clearly the work of a master.

What gave Brian Carter a headache was that, although the room looked large, apart from the central curtain that could provide some cover, the rest of the space was completely exposed. The couch’s legs were low, leaving no room underneath to hide his robust frame.

As he was pondering, he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching. Brian Carter cursed inwardly—there was no time to retreat, and he couldn’t erase the water stains in the corner.

“You little brat, how dare you try to scare me with a water ghost? Just wait till I teach you a lesson.”

The brocade curtain was suddenly lifted, revealing a delicate face that could be charming or stern.

At this point, Brian Carter had nowhere to retreat. He had no choice but to steel himself, hook his hand like an eagle’s claw, and lightly grip the girl’s throat. “Miss, I’m sorry, I mean you no harm. May I explain myself?”

The young woman, her face drained of color, stared wide-eyed at the soaking wet man before her, his hand around her slender neck—yet he claimed he meant no harm?

But even in this situation, the girl knew not to provoke him. Her elders had long warned her to stay calm in such circumstances and prioritize her own safety above all else.

“You may, but you must let go of me first.” Her voice was clear and cool, like an oriole singing in a valley, but to Brian Carter it was far from pleasant. This woman seemed quite experienced in handling such situations; though at a disadvantage, she still carried an innate air of superiority that was hard to stomach.

“Heh, miss, I can let you go, but let me make this clear—or rather, remind you—not to try anything. That would only endanger your own safety! Since I dare to let you go, I’m absolutely confident I can stop you before you do anything—shouting, running, struggling, whatever. That would only put us both at risk. Do you understand?”

Brian Carter felt like a big bad wolf patiently lecturing a little white rabbit. The situation was almost comical.

“I understand. Don’t worry. Our lives are not equal—I won’t take any reckless risks.” The girl glared fiercely at Brian Carter and replied coolly.