After waiting a while longer, a petite figure came bouncing over.
It was a woman draped in a white robe, her face hidden beneath a hood and mask. The only visible features were her amber-yellow eyes—feline in shape—and two small protrusions on her head that might have been ears...
Her figure was undeniably attractive; even the loose robe couldn’t hide her curves. Judging by her movements and the smooth skin around her eyes, she seemed quite young.
*"Who is this...? Did Feng Ruixing get surgery or something?"*
While the others were merely curious about her appearance, Wen Wen was baffled on *every* level. He’d personally recruited every Containment Officer here—yet he had no idea who this girl was.
If not for the crowd, he might’ve lunged to interrogate her on the spot.
*"Hello, everyone! Nice to meet you all~ Meow!"*
After greeting the group, she plopped down beside Changsun Jing, eyeing everyone with curiosity. Her attention lingered on the animal pelts draped over him, her fingers twitching under the table as if itching to touch the fur.
Hearing that crisp voice, Wen Wen’s confusion melted into realization—and his wariness vanished.
This *"girl"* was the *tiger* from before!
*She was human all along?!*
A pang of disappointment hit him. He’d been hoping the containment center had acquired a rare exotic animal.
Still, gaining a (probably) pretty girl wasn’t bad. At least it balanced out the testosterone-heavy roster.
Restless even while seated, she tugged her backpack into her lap and rummaged through it, eventually pulling out a heap of tea eggs. She passed them around, giving Wen Wen two due to his... *substantial* size.
*"This brand’s tea eggs are super tasty! Consider them my greeting gift~ Meow!"*
With that, she happily peeled one and nibbled away.
Something twitched beneath her robe near her backside—likely a tail.
*"Ears, tail... Is she a kemonomimi?"*
Wen Wen’s imagination conjured an image of her beneath that robe, and he decided recruiting her had been the right call. Even a cold-blooded detective like him had *certain* weaknesses...
Then he recalled the name on her contract: *Miao Miaomiao*.
Initially, he’d dismissed it because "Miao Miaomiao" sounded too cutesy for a tiger. "Tiger" had suited her better back then. But now? Calling a girl *"Tiger"* felt downright rude.
Just as the gathering was about to begin, Feng Ruixing strode in, confidently claiming a seat. With his arrival, all Containment Officers were present.
His method of concealing his identity, however, was... unique: a single black facial mask plastered across his face.
*Ding, ding, ding—*
The metallic-suited man—who’d been standing silently—tapped a small hammer against a bell-like instrument.
*"Attention, please. The assembly commences now. I am the Disaster Zone’s central administrator, the Metal Guardian. You may address me as ‘Mr. Gold.’"*
Everyone nodded politely. Wen Wen, meanwhile, rubbed his nose awkwardly. *He had a name this whole time? I’ve just been calling him ‘Metallic Suit Guy’ in my head...*
*"Starting today, I will oversee all future assemblies. First order of business: salary distribution."*
At the word *"salary,"* every Officer except Feng Ruixing perked up. None were *poor*, but extra cash never hurt.
Especially for Heng An—currently flat broke.
And if Miao Miaomiao had money, she wouldn’t be handing out tea eggs as gifts.
*"Base monthly stipend: 5,000 yuan. Additional bonuses: 1,000 yuan per Disaster-class monster captured, 10,000 yuan per Disaster*-class."*
This paled in comparison to the Hunter Association’s payouts. But since the containment center imposed near-zero restrictions, this was essentially free money. No complaints arose.
Gong Bao Ding, the longest-serving member, received the highest payout—tens of thousands, thanks to an extra monster capture.
Once salaries were settled, Mr. Gold clapped his hands. Several jailers entered, hauling in stacks of supplies.
*"In addition to wages, the containment center provides living subsidies."*
The subsidies were... *quintessentially domestic*. Each Officer received a桶 of soybean oil, a bag of rice, a bag of fruit, and a mysterious large box.
Heng An eagerly opened his box—only to freeze at the contents.
*Pickled vegetables.*
An *entire crate* of them, from a brand no one had heard of: *"Peiling Pickles."*
Feng Ruixing facepalmed. This was *his* doing.
He’d invested in a pickle factory under his foundation’s name. But with the first batch struggling to sell, the surplus had ended up here...
Changsun Jing stroked his chin. Now that his powers were restored, he planned to close his pastry shop—otherwise, these could’ve been freebies for customers.
Miao Miaomiao, however, was *thrilled*. With these pickles, her tea eggs would taste even better!
*"My duties are complete. The remaining time is yours. Should you require anything, seek me out."*
With that, Mr. Gold exited, leaving the six Officers in awkward silence.
To break the ice, Feng Ruixing stood.
*"We’ll gather here weekly from now on. But this place is too barebones. I propose renovating the hall—at least to make it less... *depressing*. Thoughts?"*
Silence.
Wen Wen sighed. Predictable, given how little everyone knew each other.
*"Let’s start with introductions. After that, feel free to trade unwanted items or raise questions."*
With his prompting, the group gradually warmed up. An hour later, the formalities concluded.
Feng Ruixing dominated the Q&A—and the spending. He snapped up anything that caught his eye, flaunting the power of wealth.
For the others, the exchange proved equally fruitful. Even Gong Bao Ding scored useful items.
Weekly meetings, it seemed, had merit.
Once discussions ended, the room lapsed into silence again.
*"So... we done here?"* Feng Ruixing suggested.
But Miao Miaomiao objected. She leapt onto the table, producing decks of cards.
*"Let’s play poker! Meow~"*
No one else was keen—yet under her relentless enthusiasm, everyone (except the busy Gong Bao Ding) eventually joined.
As the game progressed, the atmosphere loosened noticeably.
By midnight, the group finally disbanded.
Exiting, Wen Wen scratched his head in bewilderment. He’d envisioned a mysterious, elite gathering of supernaturals.
*How did it devolve into a bunch of idiots goofing off?*
Meanwhile, Feng Ruixing was already drafting plans to convert the hall into an arcade...