Chapter 1: D-rank Guide

D-rank Guide

The golden sun gradually sank below the horizon, the dim light was swallowed, darkness spread across every corner of the planet, as usual, a night without stars or moon.

Lights along the street lit up one by one, the floating lights like daytime, as if the earlier darkness were merely an illusion, illuminating the clean yet empty street.

Click, click.

Clear, high‑heeled shoe steps echoed from the dark alleys untouched by light.

A silver high‑heeled shoe stepped into the light, followed by a corner of a beige trench coat and fluttering golden hair, breaking the silence; faintly, the clamor of weapon collisions could be heard from afar.

Fu Guang adjusted her flashing blue earring, half her face split by light and shadow, then she lowered her long lashes to veil the light in her eyes, expressionlessly listening to the call coming from opposite: "Fu Guang, the military department just took your information."

A calm female voice came through the sapphire earring.

"You need to prepare." She paused, her voice revealing no emotion.

"In fifteen system days, your information will be enrolled in Alliance University, making you a new student there."

"Did you receive the A‑rank protector White Tower gave you? It can at most block a single strike from an S‑rank Sentinel; remember to wear it."

"I'm sorry to inform you of this, but due to the high casualty rate of S‑rank Guides on the front lines, White Tower has no choice but to take this measure."

Fu Guang merely listened, not responding; she slowly raised her hands, under the dazzling light these hands were pale and slender, like fine glass in a display case.

The speaker realized Fu Guang's silence, stopped talking, only the tap‑tap‑tap of footsteps echoed in the transmission channel.

"All right, I understand." Her voice showed no fluctuation; the situation had already been notified to her three months ago.

From the information she received, White Tower's methods have always been straightforward—using Guides to restrain Sentinels, yet they remain effective.

White Tower gave Fu Guang ample compensation, a hundred thousand star coins each month, requiring only that she appear at the academy more than three times a month.

Moreover, her spiritual power was severely damaged; judged as a D‑rank Guide, her purification was incomplete and she had no chance of advancement—in people's eyes she had no way out.

"Fu Guang, White Tower will remember your contribution."

"As long as you are a Guide, they have no right to harm you." That female voice added, "So then, Fu Guang, good luck."

"Thank you for your blessing."

"Mm."

"Toot."

Fu Guang cut off the communicator; the brightly lit shop window on one side of the street reflected her deep gaze.

Fu Guang had crossed over half a year ago; in her previous life she was an apothecary, and while refining the Soul‑Returning Pill she was struck by heavenly thunder and brought to this world.

At that time the body's original owner was too frail to survive the differentiation period; she had just taken over this body when she was pulled in for testing—"D‑rank", spiritual power severely damaged, prospects for promotion slim.

Therefore the task of going to Alliance University fell to this "poor little thing"; to other Guides it seemed like a white rabbit thrown into a wolf pack—no mortal danger, but certainly not pleasant.

Sentinels are all lunatics.

Walking toward the source of that sound, the clash of weapons gradually faded; several men were cleaning up a messy street, and upon hearing the noise they all turned to look at Fu Guang.

Buzz‑cut, muscles bulging, eyes fierce—none lacked the aggression characteristic of Sentinels; in the darkness their eyes gleamed like beasts.

Clearly on the same street, yet a clear line divided it: one side blazed with light, the other had only a few points of brightness.

Fu Guang stood in the light‑shadow boundary, not taking a step.

She seemed oblivious to the others' tense muscles, lazily lifting her gaze at them, casually tossing her brown handbag to one of them and saying with a half‑smile, "Is the cargo ready?"

The one who caught the bag clutched it nervously, hurried into the darkness, while the others glanced at him with envy.

The woman's clear voice seemed to blow away the tense atmosphere after the fight; the scar‑headed man stepped forward, as if trying to block the large bloodstain behind him.

Regretting that they hadn't known "the Young Lady" would come today, they wished they'd acted swiftly earlier so she wouldn't have to see this scene.

"Young Lady, the cargo is ready." The face still bearing bloodstains smiled, then the blood slid down his cheek, leaving a trace on his brown skin,

looking rather horrifying.

Fu Guang's expression unchanged, a breeze brought the strong scent of blood that stimulated her senses.

Sentinels have keen senses, are easily irritated and prone to fights, so brawls are nothing new to Fu Guang.

As long as they don't embezzle her goods, she has no interest in interfering with their affairs.

"Young Lady…" the bald man's throat moved, as if wanting to say something, but looking at the woman he swallowed it back.

Fu Guang lowered her eyes to the silver ring on her pinky, waiting for the handover.

The man carrying the box entered a tavern; the owner frowned as he swept the shattered liquor into the waste processor, angrily muttering, "Damn Sentinels, my liquor."

The wheat‑skinned woman gripping the broom had muscles bulging on her arms, looking as if she wanted to drag those few men out and beat them again.

The box‑carrier had just entered, "So fast today? The street's cleaned, go—"

"Boss, the Young Lady has come for the cargo."

"What! It's only been nine days—why is she here today?" Her voice rose; we had agreed on a monthly handover, yet it keeps getting earlier.

The wheat‑skinned woman took the box, weighed it—the weight unchanged. She carefully opened it; six tubes of light‑blue potion glimmered brightly under the red light.

Both held their breath; the shopkeeper opened a tube, took a small sip, closed her eyes to feel it, then after a while exhaled happily, her face showing enjoyment; the underling beside her looked envious, a hint of greed in his eyes.

The shopkeeper gave him a glance, her gaze icy.

Then her brows furrowed as she put the potion back, wondering what to do.

This time they hadn't managed to free hands for the Dark Forest, and the Light Grass they had was only half of what the Young Lady wanted; moreover, the Young Lady is not easy to persuade, so if this request isn't met the exchange contract will likely end here.

"Young Lady" is a codename; she appeared half a year ago on Dark Star, completed this contract with her, and the forces behind her are unknown to them.

The Young Lady has previously handled several offending Sentinels in front of them, her skill is extraordinary—she is at least a C‑rank Sentinel.

Furthermore, offending an apothecary who makes the alleviating agent is unwise; low‑rank Sentinels cannot gain the favor of high‑ranking Guides and must rely on the agent to ease the contamination in their mental visions, better than nothing.

She gripped the box's handle, her finger joints protruding, her expression dark.

Rumor has it a B‑rank Sentinel has appeared in the deep dark alleys, said to be temporarily stationed; unknown strength? This planet is C‑rank in the Alliance's territory, so a B‑rank Sentinel would be top‑tier here; she had originally wanted to go challenge him.

After all, one mountain cannot hold two tigers, but obtaining Light Grass is urgent, the Dark Forest admits only C‑rank Sentinels, so she might need an ally.

As for the planet's original B‑rank Sentinel, she has no intention of dealing with them—they are outlaws, no different from making a deal with a tiger.

The shop owner reached out and took a bottle of wine from the wine rack.

The man holding the wine and the box hurried out, placing the box and wine to one side of the light and shadow, yet he did not step over the line even half a step.

"Young lady, we express our deepest apologies; this time we fell short, preparing only 15 plants, and we will make up the deficit next time." The man repeated the boss's words verbatim, imitating him.

Deepest apologies?

Fu Guang was not particularly surprised by this outcome, after all, it was the result she had step by step directed.

"Like this."

"Take me to see your shop owner." Fu Guang, her gloved hand lifting the box, walked into the darkness, a faint smile forming on her face as she spoke to the several people.

"Then please follow me."

The man wiped the sweat from his forehead and glared at the remaining few who were about to move.

The Sentinels are a group that believes in the rule of the strong, with a severe internal hierarchy of strength, like a wolf pack, and the wolf king of this region is the "shop owner."

What she wants requires this Sentinel.