C64 Ms Aubree!

The first rays of sunlight pierced through the window, bathing Westley in a warm glow. His features were sharply defined in the light, giving him the appearance of a sculpted figure.

Abruptly, his eyes snapped open, flashing like bolts of lightning. With a breath, a wisp of white mist spiraled out.

"Who would've thought that Five-dragon Street had a fractured spiritual vein? The Spiritual Energy here is surprisingly rich," Westley mused, caught off guard by the discovery.

He had spent the previous night here after leaving Aristocratic Villa, not sleeping a wink. Instead, he harnessed the Sky Breaking Energy to replenish his Spiritual Energy.

Now, his reserves were almost fully restored, and he felt mentally rejuvenated. Sliding out of bed, Westley pushed open the door and stretched languidly.

Ivy's door was shut; she usually stayed on campus and only occasionally returned home.

Just then, the door across the hall cracked open, and a head peeked out. A man with slick, greasy hair and glasses emerged, clutching a trash bag.

He paused, taken aback upon seeing Westley, and said with an awkward tinge to his pale face, "Morning, Westley."

"Morning, Writer Howell," Westley replied with an easy grin.

The man, Dilan, was a freelancer who fancied himself an online novelist. Despite years of effort, fame had eluded him.

"Don't tease, Westley. I'm hardly a writer," Dilan said, adjusting his glasses with a bashful air.

Westley couldn't help but notice the trash bag brimming with tissues and instant noodle containers. "You've got to look after your health, you know," he chided playfully.

Dilan's face flushed crimson as he quickly retorted, "It's not what you think, Westley."

"What's your latest work about? I'd love to give it a read," Westley said, stepping closer with a friendly smile.

"I've started a new book. It's what the readers are into these days," Dilan confided, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Really? I'm rooting for you," Westley encouraged, clapping a hand on Dilan's shoulder.

"You're into web novels too, Westley?" Dilan asked, his surprise evident.

"Absolutely. There's nothing I don't keep up with," Westley boasted.

Dilan listened, wide-eyed and impressed. Westley sure knows his stuff, he thought to himself.

"Let's do this—I'll buy you breakfast, and we can talk over the meal," Westley offered.

"Really?" Dilan was incredulous.

Lately, he'd been so strapped for cash that instant noodles were his daily fare.

"Absolutely, but you've got to promise me a part," Westley said with a grin.

"Deal," Dilan replied without hesitation.

It's not like anyone was reading his books.

But now, he was looking forward to a hot meal.

Wonton noodles, crab soup dumplings, and fat sausage noodles—he salivated at the thought.

Arm in arm, they chatted away as they made their way to the door.

Suddenly, Westley froze.

He had sensed a chilling aura of malice.

Only a true master could exude such a presence.

"Hey, Westley, what's holding you up?" Dilan asked, eyes wide with concern.

"Isaac, do you sense that? A killing intent?" Westley inquired.

"Nope. You sure you're not mistaken?" Dilan was baffled.

He turned around instinctively.

And was met with a sight that left him rooted to the spot, his legs shaking.

Westley looked too and finally saw the source of the deadly aura.

There stood a formidable woman, easily over two hundred pounds, wielding a pair of fire tongs and glaring at them.

Ms. Aubree was almost as wide as she was tall, her body a mass of flesh, her eyes nearly hidden in the folds.

It was almost unimaginable that she had a hint of stubble at the corner of her mouth.

And most horrifying? She was wearing lipstick.

Ever seen a pig in lipstick?

How about a pig in lipstick, dressed in a floral gown?

Westley was utterly gobsmacked.

The shock was almost too much to bear.

"So you're the adorable Ms. Aubree, right? Nice to meet you," Westley greeted her with a forced smile.

He had a deep respect for Ms. Aubree.

After all, she was the renowned landlord of Five-dragon Street, known to all as Aubree.

"Westley, you've got the nerve to show your face?" Ms. Aubree bellowed like a lion.

After decades of honing her technique, it had become incredibly powerful.

Her resonant voice startled the birds into silence; even the roosters were too frightened to crow, dogs scurried back to their kennels, and crying babies were hushed.

Westley and Dilan felt as though their eardrums might burst from the force of it.

Only Ms. Aubree could wield such formidable power.

Dilan clutched his chest, the sensation of an impending heart attack overwhelming him.

Westley offered a sheepish grin, "Ms. Aubree, why would you say that? I'm a good guy. Why would I be afraid to see you?"

"You talk a good game, but where's your rent? You're two months behind," Ms. Aubree challenged him.

"Really? I'll make sure to pay you next time," Westley replied, his embarrassment evident.

Aubree gave Westley and Dilan an exasperated eye roll.

"And you, you're a month behind on rent. But the worst is Ivy; she's three months overdue."

Hands on her hips, Aubree declared, "Do you think I'm running a charity here? If you can't pay up, then pack up and leave. I'll rent the place to someone else!"

"Ms. Aubree, please, just cool down. I've got my script fee now, and I'll pay you the rent, I promise," Dilan pleaded, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm so tired of this," Aubree muttered as she stormed off.

Once she was gone, Westley remained, his brow furrowed in concern.

Something didn't add up.

He hadn't paid the rent because Olivia hadn't paid him.

It was typical for Dilan to fall behind on rent.

But Ivy? She'd always been prompt with her payments. What could have caused her to fall behind?

Was it possible she was facing some kind of trouble?