I was the entertainment industry's widely acknowledged "bimbo," dragged onto a luxury cruise ship's live-stream reality show just to fill a spot on the roster. No one expected us to be hit by a terrorist attack midway through the voyage. Clutching a single eyebrow razor, I wiped out an entire squad of heavily armed mercenaries. Facing the live-stream cameras, I blinked innocently: "We're all red-blooded Americans here." "It's perfectly normal to know a little self-defense, right?" 1 On the day of my retirement, my boss asked me with utmost warmth and friendliness: "Harper Vance, you've gone through hell and back for the Agency over the years. You've done your country a great service." "If you have any requests for your retirement, just name them." I immediately perked up, my eyes shining with anticipation: "My retirement life!" "The main theme has to be absolute luxury, glitz and glamour, indulging in the finest wines, partying until dawn, and endless nights of VIP clubbing in LA!" My boss... My boss had excellent manners. He smiled and said: "Understood!" "So basically, you want us to set you up for a fast track to federal prison, right?" Me... Three days later, I was packed up and tossed into Hollywood. Three years later, I had become the internet's universally acknowledged "bimbo beauty." But right when everyone was passionately discussing how I was good for absolutely nothing, yet still managed to be an A-lister because God practically force-fed me my career... Who would have thought that I was once the sharpest blade in the Agency? I hold the record for taking out 12 enemies in 3 seconds—a record that remains unbroken to this day. If "The Blade" is the most secretive covert organization in the world, then I was its most dangerous operative. Back then, whenever enemies mentioned me, they would tremble and say: "She spreads faster than a wildfire." 2 "Carter, don't go!" I jolted awake from the nightmare again, sitting bolt upright and gasping for air. A malicious voice drifted over from the side: "Oh my, some people really think they can do whatever they want just because they have a pretty face, huh?" "Do you really think Mr. Hayes is someone a bimbo like you can climb the ladder to reach?" "Calling his name in your sleep? Have you no shame!" The person speaking was Chloe Bennett, the entertainment industry's designated "innocent sweetheart." Her public image was infinitely better than mine. We were both signed to Apex Entertainment, but we were famously at each other's throats. The shock from the nightmare left me disoriented for a moment. After catching my breath, I looked around the familiar dressing room, and it finally hit me—Carter was already dead. The man who had fought shoulder-to-shoulder with me was long gone, leaving not even a body behind. It was only then that I processed what Chloe had just said. I frowned and asked: "What Mr. Hayes were you just talking about?" Chloe rolled her eyes: "The most mysterious CEO of the Hayes Conglomerate, Carter Hayes, obviously." "Just give up!" "I've already been invited to the luxury cruise live-stream show in a few days." "Rumor has it that Mr. Hayes will be gracing us with his presence." "I am going to make him fall in love with me at first sight!" "As for a brainless vase like you, you don't even have the qualifications to board the ship!" My mouth twitched as I looked at the overly confident Chloe. I offered a sincere suggestion: "Remember to get some Botox before you board." "Look at how much your skin is sagging. Be careful, or the flies buzzing around you will get trapped in your wrinkles." "Also, being pretty really does mean you can do whatever you want~" "But since you aren't pretty, you wouldn't understand." 3 Leaving the dressing room, I frantically dialed my agent's number: "Tara! That luxury cruise live-stream show in two days—get me on it!" There was a full minute of dead silence on the other end, letting me yell "Hello? Hello?!" into the receiver. Just as my patience was running out, Tara finally spoke: "They invited you before, just to make up the numbers." "You righteously refused, claiming you'd never sell your soul for five bucks!" I suddenly remembered. Yes, that did happen. At the time, I figured a cruise ship live-stream would mean way too much sun exposure. Only an idiot would go! Plus, the producer in charge of the show clearly thought I didn't deserve to be there, which was why I turned it down. Guiltily, I cleared my throat and shamelessly sucked up: "So, um... I know you're mad, but hold on a second!" "How much are they paying?" Tara replied: "They started at five million, then bumped it to six million." I slammed the imaginary gavel: "While I won't sell my soul for five bucks, I will absolutely sell it for six million dollars!" "Accept it!" Tara... Carter... Carter Hayes... Even though I knew it was impossible, a tiny sliver of hope still lingered in my heart. Whether it was a coincidence or a miracle, I had to see it with my own eyes. 4 Tara truly was a top-tier agent. Miraculously, at the very last minute, she managed to stuff me into the cast list. As a live reality show backed by massive manpower, resources, and capital, it naturally generated crazy buzz online. On the day of boarding, the hype reached its absolute peak on Twitter: [So excited! It’s finally starting!] [A live stream on a luxury cruise ship! That’s fresh!] [Look! Chloe is about to board!] [Did you guys hear? Rumor has it one of the female stars on this show has an insane background!] [I heard that too. Supposedly backed by a massive conglomerate...] [I bet it's Chloe!] [Well, it's definitely not that bimbo Harper Vance.] I hid by the ship's railing, leisurely scrolling through the live chat. Suddenly, a voice rang out: "I didn't expect to see you here." "Agent Seven." 5 I had already heard the footsteps approaching from behind, so I wasn't surprised. I said flatly: "Mr. Sterling. I hope you've been well." Winston Sterling was a textbook patriotic billionaire. For decades, he had donated money and resources to charity without hesitation. His motto was: "A strong nation relies on a prosperous economy." As his business grew into a massive, diversified empire, he became a pivotal figure in the corporate world. Unfortunately, this offended some foreign syndicates. They hired dozens of the world's best assassins and issued a kill order on him. At the time, I was ordered to protect him. In just half a month, I eliminated every single assassin and kept him alive. He was also the only person in the entertainment industry who knew my true identity after my retirement. Before we could exchange more than a few words, we were interrupted by a sudden rush of people. Chloe was surrounded in the center like a queen bee, flanked by reporters, show staff, bodyguards, and a handful of invited fans. A reporter asked her as they walked: "Regarding the internet rumors that you have an extraordinary background, how do you respond?" "Is it true, as people suspect, that you have a very high status?" Chloe answered without a moment's hesitation: "Things like that... it's better to keep a low profile." "It's not something to be flaunted in public." Amid the awe-struck gasps of the crowd, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Chloe was pretty smart. She didn't clarify or deny it, nor did she answer directly, but she expertly cultivated a "Yep, you guessed it, that's me" aura. I even suspected she was the one who leaked those rumors online in the first place. After all, no one should have the ability to dig up my background. Maybe my laugh was too loud. Chloe shot me a deadly glare, but unexpectedly spotted Mr. Sterling standing next to me. She sashayed over gracefully, bringing the camera lenses right to us. "Harper, you really are so fake." "You originally turned down the show's invitation, but then you heard Mr. Hayes was coming, and you forced your way back in." "And now, you're trying to cozy up to Mr. Sterling." "As celebrities, we need to have a basic bottom line." Wow! In just a few sentences, she dumped two massive buckets of dirt on my head. As she intended, the live chat went crazy: [Wow, I didn't know Harper was that kind of person.] [I always knew she was a bimbo, but I didn't realize she was this manipulative.] Having finished trashing me, Chloe put on a show of sucking up to Mr. Sterling: "Mr. Sterling, I've heard so much about you." "I've always wanted to pay you a visit, but never had the chance. It's been such a regret." Mr. Sterling's status was unrivaled in the entire business world. Chloe was calculating perfectly: if she could just exchange a few words with him, her own status would skyrocket. However... Mr. Sterling looked flatly at Chloe's extended hand. He didn't shake it publicly as she hoped. Instead, he said coldly: "It's not a regret." "Because even if you tried to visit me, I wouldn't see you." "Even the CEO of your conglomerate has to make an appointment three months in advance to see me, let alone a nobody like you." Chloe's face instantly turned a sickly shade of green. The atmosphere was incredibly awkward. In the dead silence, Mr. Sterling politely gestured toward me: "I wonder if I might have the honor of inviting Miss Vance for a cup of tea?" I raised an eyebrow, nodded, and followed Mr. Sterling to the dining room, leaving everyone staring at each other in shock. The live chat went even crazier: [Can someone explain what just happened?!] [Why is Mr. Sterling so respectful to that bimbo Harper?!] [Chloe is the most embarrassed one here. Got slapped in the face on live TV.] [Hahaha, Mr. Sterling is hilarious!] 6 It was soon time for the evening banquet. This banquet was also the signal that the live stream had officially begun; everyone would be attending. I nervously changed into my evening gown. I was somewhat hoping that Carter Hayes was my Carter, but rationality told me that was impossible. Besides, if Carter was really alive, how could I explain the explosion back then... Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. I asked warily: "Who is it?" Chloe's voice drifted in: "It's me. Are you ready?" "Let's go to the banquet hall together." Me: ??? Hold on, since when were Chloe and I on such good terms? Why didn't I know about this? But I didn't overthink it. I grabbed my things and headed to the banquet hall with her. 7 On the way, Chloe linked her arm affectionately with mine and didn't let go even when we entered the hall. We sat in adjacent seats, waiting for the event to start. Cameras covered every angle, broadcasting non-stop. Just then, I suddenly felt Chloe's hand rubbing against my back. I... Was she sexually harassing me? I swiftly grabbed her hand. Looking closely, she was holding a standard eyebrow razor. My mouth twitched. In a split second, I understood what stunt she was trying to pull. She just wanted to slice my dress open so I'd make a fool of myself in public. Before I could say anything, the lights suddenly dimmed. The banquet was starting. At that exact moment, an ominous premonition washed over me. I had faced life-and-death situations countless times. In critical moments, my sixth sense was sharper than anything else. It was God's way of giving you a real chance to survive. While I was on high alert, observing our surroundings, a scream pierced the air. Immediately after, all the exits slammed shut, and a squad of heavily armed mercenaries suddenly stormed into the banquet hall. Machine guns fired wildly into the ceiling. Screams erupted everywhere, and sheer panic set in. The mercenary leader stepped onto the stage: "Shut the f*ck up, all of you!" "Right now, on this cruise ship, I make the rules!" My brain raced: Where did these people board the ship? Is there an inside man? If they've boarded, it's highly likely the ship has reached international waters. The mercenary leader laughed sinisterly: "This is a live stream, right? I wonder if anyone wants to watch a live ship massacre?" "You celebrities think you're such hot sh*t, huh?" "From now on, one life is worth ten million dollars." "Those who can pay, naturally, get to keep their lives." "Otherwise, I'll butcher one of you every half hour and throw you into the ocean to feed the sharks!" The live chat was losing its collective mind: [What's going on? Mercenaries?!] [Is this real or fake?! Call the cops!] [They're probably in international waters. It'll take time to get there, plus there are so many hostages!] 8 Chloe was the first to burst into tears, snot and tears smearing her face: "I'll pay! I'll pay!" "Don't kill me!" Chloe's assistant whispered a reminder: "Chloe, we don't have that much money!" "At most, we can scrape together five million." Hearing this, the mercenary leader's expression darkened: "Are you f*cking playing with me?" "Then we'll start with you!" He reached out to grab Chloe. She was so terrified she instinctively pointed her only weapon—that ordinary eyebrow razor—at him in a desperate attempt to protect herself. The man laughed mockingly: "Just that?" "Are you kidding me?" "If you can actually hurt me with that little toy, I'll hand over my title as Warlord of the Seas to you." I couldn't help but laugh out loud. The man narrowed his eyes and glared at me: "What are you laughing at?!" I crossed my legs, casually swirling the champagne in my glass with one hand: "Don't turtles usually live in ponds?" "How did you end up in the ocean?" The man instantly flew into a rage: "Looks like someone's begging to die!" "Fine! I'll slaughter you first!" In an instant, the dark muzzle of his gun was aimed right at my forehead. The crowd screamed in terror. I ignored it all, stood up, and smoothed out my black silk gown. Then I walked over to Chloe, politely and elegantly holding out my hand: "Can I borrow that eyebrow razor for a second?" 9 Chloe was already paralyzed with fear and instinctively handed the razor to me. The mercenary leader sneered from the side: "Still care about your looks, huh?" "You really are a beauty. If you keep my boys entertained, I might just let you live a few more days." I shook my head: "Villains always die from talking too much." Before the words even faded, I struck like lightning. The eyebrow razor slashed across the mercenary leader's throat in a fraction of a second. Blood sprayed into the air. The man clutched his neck in disbelief, a trembling finger pointing at me. But unfortunately for him, he couldn't speak anymore. Before the blood droplets even hit the floor, he collapsed with a heavy thud, crashing into a table. The remaining mercenaries finally reacted, raising their rifles and firing a hail of bullets at me. I used the overturned table for slight cover, calculating the positions of everyone in the room and the number of bullets they had left. The enemies emptied their magazines. In that brief split-second window, I silently slipped behind them. I grabbed one of the men in a rear chokehold, using him as a human shield while pushing forward. A few mercenaries tried to surround me. I leaped, landed smoothly, and backhanded the two closest to me, taking them out instantly. The remaining two tried to flank and shoot me from the left and right. But to their surprise, I launched myself upward. The bullets grazed past me and slammed squarely into each other's bodies. By now, the surviving mercenaries had regrouped. One of them grabbed Chloe, who happened to be the closest: "Drop your weapon!" "Or I'll butcher her!" I waved the blood-stained eyebrow razor, raised an eyebrow, and laughed aloud: "First of all, is this eyebrow razor the 'weapon' you're referring to?" "How can you be this garbage and call yourselves mercenaries?" "You guys are like cheap crops, each batch worse than the last." "Secondly, the person you grabbed is my rival." "I f*cking hate her." The mercenary panicked. Without thinking, he shoved Chloe to the ground, intending to grab a different hostage. He didn't know that this was exactly the moment I was waiting for. I hurled the eyebrow razor. It sliced through his carotid artery and kept flying. Moving like a phantom, I was there a split second later to catch it on the other side, dropping into a flawless single-knee landing. But the last remaining enemies had already flanked me from behind. All escape routes were sealed off, and a sharp combat knife lunged toward me. After taking out the enemy in front of me, I instantly sidestepped. The knife barely grazed my gown, slicing the fabric. I crushed the attacker's throat with one hand. With a sharp snap, he stopped breathing. At that moment, the last three mercenaries suddenly pointed at the tattoo exposed by my torn dress: "She's Agent Seven!" "Agent Seven from The Blade!" "We can't win! Run!" I frowned. I never showed my face during missions, but the seven-leaf clover tattoo on my shoulder had once struck fear into the hearts of many. I didn't expect it to be exposed now. I vaulted forward to block their escape path. Before I could speak, a commotion erupted from outside. The Coast Guard had arrived. The room full of celebrities uniformly maintained one expression: jaw-dropping shock. They were so stunned they couldn't even answer the police's questions properly. A young rookie cop surveyed the scene, frowning as he asked: "Who killed these men?" A celebrity pointed a trembling finger at me: "The... the bimbo... I mean! The esteemed Ms. Vance, the superhero." The rookie cop stepped over the bodies and walked up to me: "Please hand over your weapon so we can log it as evidence." I nonchalantly tossed the eyebrow razor into the evidence bag. The cop stared at it in confusion: "What is this?" I replied matter-of-factly: "My weapon." The cop gave me an "Are you kidding me" look and was about to speak when another voice interrupted: "She's not kidding you." "That is her weapon." "Forget a blade. If she wants to, a piece of string or a tree branch is more than enough for her to eliminate an enemy." I turned to look at the speaker. It seemed to be their SWAT team commander. I tilted my head in confusion: I don't think I know him?
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