Card Chapter 20: Ambush! (Patreon)

The next day, perhaps because he’d burned too many brain cells crafting cards the night before, Russell enjoyed a rare, sound sleep.

Strictly speaking, he hadn’t slept at all—he was practicing the Deep‑Blue Meditation Technique. Most Card Crafters have long since replaced ordinary sleep with meditation, and Russell was no exception.

Mounting his Pidgeot, Russell quickly reached Shanghai City No. 1 High School.

Since acquiring Pidgeot, he no longer had to worry about traffic jams making the bus late. Besides, given how highly he was valued now, even if he were tardy once or twice, Miss Song Qian would scarcely complain.

To the hypnotic cadence of Song Qian’s voice, the school day began. Today’s lesson genuinely interested Russell: Chain Cards and Legion Cards.

“Class, please listen carefully to the next section,” Song Qian said solemnly, surveying the honors students.

“Chain Cards—as the name suggests—create a chain effect between cards, most often between Creature Cards and Item Cards,” she began without preamble. “A well‑known example is the creature card [Pagoda‑Bearing Heavenly King · Li Jing] paired with the item card [Seven‑Treasure Exquisite Pagoda]. Those two cards trigger just such a chain effect.”

“I won’t belabor what the chain effect does; think of it as every bit as powerful as a card bond.”

Russell knew all about card bonds—both of his own cards possessed them—but he still lacked the materials to craft additional bond‑triggering cards.

Unaware of Russell’s thoughts, Song Qian continued: “Chain Cards usually arise from key items in a character’s story. Keep that in mind when you start crafting your own cards.”

With Chain Cards covered, she moved on to Legion Cards.

“Legion Cards are the cornerstone of card crafting education,” she said, her tone even stricter. “Please give this your full attention.”

At her gravity, the honors students straightened instinctively.

“A Legion Card isn’t a single card in one Card Crafter’s hand,” she explained. “It refers to batches of identical cards manufactured by an organized group of Card Crafters.”

She pushed up her glasses.

Card Crafters with little or no innate talent usually end up in two places: the military, or garrisoned in a city to guard a controlled secret realm. In the army, the quality of cards made by low‑ranking Card Crafters varies wildly, so the Great Ming court issues standardized, battle‑worthy templates for them to use. When dozens of these template cards are summoned on the field at once, they merge and unleash a far greater power.

That seriousness was why Song Qian cared so much—she considered only Russell and Jiang Nanxi true stand‑outs. The rest of the class, she felt, would likely follow one of those two ordinary paths.

Russell now understood her implication—and how Card Crafters on the frontier held the line against the demon army. Still, it had little to do with him; after all, he’d only just crafted a red‑rarity card the night before.

Time flashed by, and the dismissal bell rang.

As Russell prepared to head home, Jiang Nanxi approached. She looked worried, prompting Russell to ask, “What’s wrong?”

After a moment’s silence she said, “Du Heng is missing.”

Russell blinked. What does Du Heng’s disappearance have to do with me? Is he planning revenge? Before he could ask, Jiang Nanxi added, “My dad told me. He said you should be extra careful going home.”

“Du Heng’s parents were found dead in their house this morning,” she continued. “They suspect Du Heng did it. The Association is hunting him now.”

Russell’s head swam with question marks. “Du Heng is that filial?”

Jiang Nanxi ignored his quip. “Just be careful,” she said, then turned away. In her eyes, Du Heng posed no real threat to Russell; a reminder was enough.

Russell rode his Pidgeot down to the shabby apartment building. As he headed upstairs, a voice called from behind: “Haven’t seen you in ages, Xiao Luo.”

It was Aunt Xu from the opposite flat. She’d watched the original Russell grow up—she’d even dragged him along when the Demon Nest riot broke out—and he often scrounged meals at her place.

Russell smiled. “I’ve been swamped since becoming a Card Crafter, Aunt Xu. Haven’t had time to visit.”

“No need to stand on ceremony. Drop by for dinner whenever you can,” she laughed. Becoming a Card Crafter, to her, was the best thing that could have happened to the boy.

“Next time for sure,” Russell chuckled.

They climbed together. Partway up Aunt Xu seemed to recall something. “Oh, Xiao Luo—Auntie’s not nagging, but stay away from shady types.”

“Shady types?”

“When I went to buy vegetables just now, I saw a young fella and some hoodlum hanging around your door,” she said.

Russell frowned. The original Russell’s social circle was squeaky‑clean, and the only “underworld” contact he’d had lately was Brother Hu from DuoDuo Finance—yet the loan was already repaid.

“Yes, yes, you’re right, Auntie,” he said. “They probably had the wrong door; I don’t know them.”

Aunt Xu exhaled in relief. They halted on the landing. “All right, I need to cook. Come for dinner when you can.”

“I will,” Russell smiled.

Their voices echoed in the dim stairwell. Turning, Russell grasped the doorknob and reached for his keys—when a tremendous force smashed into the door, hurling him back.

Kaneki Ken appeared in front of him.

Boom!

The rusty iron door exploded off its hinges and slammed straight into Aunt Xu.

“Hahaha! That kid was right—you really are a genius!” a crazed voice cackled from inside Russell’s room.

Russell finally understood whom Aunt Xu had seen. He glanced at her motionless body, face icy, murderous intent surging. “Du Heng! If you want to die, I’ll oblige you!”