Chapter 227 | Dangerous Tessa
Dexter burst through the door and stopped.
The scene that greeted him was not what he expected.
Two bodies lay on the concrete.
Both of them were the figures in black. The two Peak Superhuman Realm cultivators who had walked past him on the street moments ago. They were on the ground. Motionless. One was face down. The other was on his back, eyes open, staring at the sky with the blank, unfocused gaze of a person whose consciousness had been violently and comprehensively removed.
Their hoods had fallen back, revealing two faces that Dexter didn’t recognize. Both male too and they were unconscious!
And standing over them, crouched between the two fallen bodies, one hand on the first man’s chest and the other rummaging through the second man’s pockets, was Tessa.
She was searching them calmly as her fingers moved through the man’s pockets with experience and excitement.
The back door slammed against the wall as Dexter burst through.
Tessa looked up.
Her green eyes met his.
"Oh. Dexter. Hi." She blinked. "You’re still here? I thought you’d left already."
Dexter stood in the doorway and his eyes moved from Tessa to the two unconscious bodies on the ground.
He walked forward slowly, clearly stunne by what he was seeing. It wasn’t a while before the question registered in his mind.
"No," Dexter said. "I was about to leave when I saw the two suspicious people coming into your bakery. I was worried."
He looked at the bodies again.
"But it seems I was worried for nothing. Who are these guys?"
Tessa shrugged. The gesture was casual. Easy. The shrug of a sixteen-year-old girl who had been asked about something she considered trivial.
"I have no idea. They probably came to rob the store. Which is why they are here. So I had to retaliate."
Dexter stared at her.
Then he stared at the bodies.
Then he stared at her again.
"Tessa. These two are Peak Superhuman Realm."
"I know."
"Peak Superhuman Realm cultivators don’t rob ordinary bakeries."
Tessa blinked. Her green eyes widened. The expression was cute. Innocent. The particular, artless innocence of a girl who had been presented with a logical objection and was choosing to address it with an answer that was technically plausible but practically absurd.
"Maybe they really needed money desperately," she said. "You know. Addicts. Addicts do stupid things just to get a fix."
Dexter looked at her.
He looked at the two bodies on the ground. Both were well-built. Well-fed. Well-equipped. Their clothing was high-quality. Their boots were reinforced. Neither showed signs of malnourishment, desperation, or the physical deterioration that accompanied substance addiction.
These were not addicts.
These were professionals.
And they had been taken down by a sixteen-year-old girl in an apron.
"Tessa," Dexter said carefully. "You can defeat Peak Superhuman Realm cultivators?"
In his mind, the calculations were running.
Two Peak Superhuman Realm cultivators. If Dexter fought them simultaneously, going all out, using his bloodline, his techniques, his Type-5 weapon, he would win. But it would take time. At least a minute.
But Tessa had dealt with both of them in under thirty seconds. Less. From the time he had heard the scream to the time he had burst through the back door, approximately fifteen seconds had elapsed.
Fifteen seconds.
For a 17-year-old girl who was supposedly an ordinary baker’s daughter.
’Who exactly is this girl?’
Tessa looked at him, her green eyes were bright. Carrying that same, enigmatic quality that he had noticed the first day they met. The quality that said ’I am more than I appear’ without actually saying it.
"Aw, Dexter." She tilted her head. "Were you really worried about me? I knew you cared about me."
Dexter rolled his eyes.
"Obviously, I was trying to make sure you weren’t getting kidnapped or something. But obviously I was worried for no reason."
He looked at the bodies one more time. Then at Tessa. Then at the bodies.
"Should we call the cops?"
Tessa immediately shook her head.
"No. Me and my dad will handle it."
She straightened up from her crouch. Brushed dust from her apron. Adjusted the loose ribbon in her hair. The transition from combatant to baker’s daughter was seamless. Instant. As though the fight had been a minor inconvenience, like spilling flour or dropping a tray, and had already been filed under "handled" in her mind.
Then she smiled at Dexter. The warm, bright, dimpled smile that he had come to associate with all things Tessa.
"Do you want to try some of our pastries? I made a special batch this time. Maybe you can give them to your wives if you don’t want to eat them yourself."
Dexter stared at her.
He stared at her for a long time. Long enough that Tessa’s smile began to carry a trace of something beneath its surface. Not discomfort. Not guilt. Just the quiet awareness of being evaluated by someone who was paying very close attention.
’She took down two Peak Superhuman Realm cultivators in fifteen seconds. She’s searching their pockets instead of calling the police. She’s offering me pastries. She’s 17. Her father is a baker. Grandma Lucy can disperse Ultra-Rank auras with a tap of her finger. Her house was untouched during the monster outbreak.’
’Nothing about this neighborhood is what it seems.’
Dexter shook his head.
"There’s no need for that. I’ll take my leave."
He pointed toward the street. Then sighed. The sigh was not from frustration. It was from the particular, accumulated exhaustion of a man who had been discovering secrets all week and had just found another one.
He walked toward the back gate that led to the street. His stride was measured. Unhurried. The stride of a man who was choosing to leave rather than being driven away.
Tessa’s voice followed him.
"Bye, Dexter!"
He raised a hand without looking back. "Take care of yourself."
"I will!"
Her cheerful voice rang through the backyard, following him as Tessa waved enthusiastically at him.
Dexter reached the street. He paused. Turned back. Looked at the bakery. The facade was the same as always. Warm. Inviting. The smell of fresh bread drifting from the open door. Customers coming and going. The display cases full. The morning rush in full swing.
Everything looked normal.
Everything was not normal.
’Two Peak Superhuman Realm cultivators came to the bakery. They were dealt with by a sixteen-year-old girl in under fifteen seconds. She didn’t call the police. She didn’t seem scared. She didn’t seem surprised. She searched their pockets with the practiced ease of someone who had done it before.’
’And she offered me pastries afterward.’
Dexter shook his head.
He turned and walked home.