Meanwhile, the operators watching over the biker girl frowned. Their expressions were hard to control once they realized their sisters had been targeted on purpose.

Another report citing a similar incident came through, and the air around them grew heavy with seriousness. The mood shift was visible to anyone paying attention.

As they considered whether to move in support of their sisters, the biker girl suddenly spoke up.

"Well, is there any problem? Am I allowed to leave?"

Something about her rubbed the wrong way, but the lead operator's thoughts were still on the ongoing events.

Soon enough, a wave of relief washed over her as Athena's detailed report came in—aside from one twisted foot, everyone was fine.

"Not yet, ma'am. Please show us your ID," the operator requested calmly.

"Come on, officers. I haven't committed a crime or broken any laws, have I?" the biker pushed back, tone sharp with defiance.

"That doesn't matter right now. We need your identification. This is not optional."

"Something happened?" she asked, a little too quickly.

The operator's eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"

"I just guessed," the biker girl shrugged, averting her eyes. "Didn't expect to hit bullseye, huh?"

The operator sighed, clearly growing annoyed by the 'clever' civilian. "Let's not waste time here."

Ordinarily, Spirit Fox never forced civilians to surrender their IDs without solid suspicion. But once they took action, it meant they had cause—and now, they had it.

The internal warning system had already flagged the biker's identity—or rather, a strong possibility linked to it.

Seeing the firm, unwavering look in the operator's eyes, the biker girl finally gave in with an exaggerated groan. "Fine. I don't know what I did to deserve this much bad luck today."

The operator rolled her eyes and accepted the card. She studied it with deliberate slowness, though her HUD was already processing it at lightning speed.

Every suspicion was confirmed. The system's warning tagged the biker as a dangerous individual. The risk flagging stood at a solid 100%.

Being labeled dangerous didn't necessarily mean the person had committed a crime—it simply meant their identity posed potential risk, capable of triggering chaos or endangering the public.

Given the tense atmosphere after Fallen Angel had been declared, any anomaly demanded thorough scrutiny.

The operators on-site couldn't help but feel a little shocked. They'd initially been concerned for this girl—but now realized, she might've been the threat all along.

They both flushed under their hoods, mildly embarrassed.

The woman wasn't in danger; she was the danger.

Thankfully, they had stepped in. Who knew what might've happened to that man if they hadn't?

Maybe he'd be missing a few limbs by now—or listed as "disappeared." (Of course, that was just a joke… kind of.)

Although Ling Qingyu's surveillance net wasn't omnipresent yet, most areas were under Athena's watchful AI eyes.

As long as someone was in danger, the flagging system could often prevent a tragedy before it struck.

The real effort now was deciding how to handle these edge cases—because identifying the threat was only step one.

Other than that, those crimes in the past to be reassessed and filed to end and gave justice.

"Kickstand down and hands up!" the operator barked, her right hand snapping to her sidearm and aiming from the waist. "I won't say it again."

"Wait, what?! Why?!" the girl froze, eyes wide in confusion. Her right hand instinctively slipped inside her jacket.

"I said hands above your head—unless you want your body turned into a sieve," the operator warned coldly.

Her partner, still in the driver's seat, reacted instantly. She threw open the door and rounded the hood with her pistol drawn, taking a flanking angle. "Listen to her. Hands up. Slowly. I've got her covered," she said, locking onto the biker with her sights.

The first operator moved in, weapon raised and pressed close to her chest while her free hand ripped the biker's jacket open.

"Don't move!"

"Umm... should I take my hand out and raise them, or stay like this? These orders are kinda conflicting. You two need to coordinate better," the biker deadpanned.

The operator nearly cursed aloud. "Shut up—and raise your hands. Slowly. Fuck!!"

The outburst came as she spotted a pistol shoulder-holstered beneath the jacket.

"You'd better not move an inch," she growled.

The biker girl slowly shook her head and sighed. She had briefly considered resisting. With her experience, she was confident she could take both of them down.

But three reasons stopped her.

One: This was the infamous Spirit Fox. Thinking of them as just special police would be idiotic.

Two: Her instincts screamed don't resist. Those instincts had saved her life too many times.

Three: The killing intent these two radiated—subtle, but sharp—shone like moonlight in the dark. No bluff.

The operator swiftly removed the pistol and disarmed it one-handed, drawing a raised eyebrow from the biker girl.

Not many could disable her gun that fast—unless they knew it intimately. Which meant... these weren't amateurs.

She began to understand why gangs in Province N had been flattened by Spirit Fox. There was simply no comparison.

"You're very law-abiding. A model citizen," the operator muttered, checking her for any additional weapons.

"Why'd you reach for the gun when we shouted?" she asked.

"Haha, subconscious reflex. Couldn't help it," the biker girl replied with a cheeky grin.

"A good citizen wouldn't carry a gun in a restricted country," the operator said dryly.

"And no sane mercenary would ride around with one in plain sight," her partner added.

The biker rolled her eyes. "And how do you know I don't have a license?" Always read from the source: *.

"Oh, please. We know your identity," the operator replied, brushing off the question.

The biker tilted her head. "Really? Since when? I thought I was doing a damn good job hiding it."

That struck a nerve. The operators exchanged a quick, embarrassed glance. Truth was—they hadn't known a thing until now. If they hadn't decided to help what looked like an innocent woman being harassed, they might've missed her entirely.

After all, who'd suspect someone so composed, so... ordinary?

They forgot the lesson they'd been taught early on: Threats often come dressed as victims.

"Anyway," the first operator changed the subject, "we're certain you don't have the qualifications or the license."

"Alas," the biker sighed dramatically. "Tell me, when did you figure it out? I really thought I had this whole thing sealed up tight.

"No answer?" the operator prompted.

"Pray that you two are lucky I didn't resist," the biker girl muttered. "Wouldn't take much to take you both down."

"Oh, be grateful you didn't," the operator snapped back. "Otherwise, I doubt you'd still be in one piece."

"Hmph," the girl snorted. "Who doesn't know how to brag these days?"

"Likewise," the operator said coolly, pulling her off the bike. Since the biker was cooperating, the operator kept her restraint gentle as she cuffed her.

"Ouch, be gentle!" the girl complained.

The operator sneered. "I didn't think your kind felt pain."

"What kind? That's discriminatory," the biker girl huffed. "Mercenary is a sacred profession too, you know. And I can sue you for excessive force."

"But you had a gun," the operator shot back, effectively silencing her. "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm... vacation," the biker said flippantly.

"Yeah, sure. Vacation—with a firearm," the partner snorted.

"Hey, what if my enemies tracked me down like they do to you? I gotta protect myself, right?" the biker argued.

"We don't know, and we don't care," the operator replied flatly. "We'll sort you out back at the station."

The driver was already reporting the situation to headquarters. Orders came in immediately: return to base. Interrogation would follow there.

Escorting the biker girl toward the SUV, the operators called in a responder unit to collect her motorbike and clear the scene. The same went for her disarmed pistol—treated like discarded trash.

Meanwhile, the man who'd previously tried to chat up the biker girl stood rooted in place, cold sweat on his back.

He hadn't expected that the seemingly gentle woman would turn out to be a potential killer. If Spirit Fox hadn't stepped in—God knows what might've happened. He offered a silent prayer of thanks for their presence.

He made a quiet vow: never harass strangers again. Some people weren't just trouble—they were trained trouble.

The onlookers were just as shocked. None of them expected things to play out this way. It was a hard lesson—don't judge a book by its cover.

As for the man, his reputation didn't recover. The crowd continued to throw judgmental looks his way.

After all, if the girl had been an ordinary beauty with no protection, who would have helped her?

Probably no one.

Even without violence, his actions had already crossed the line—and frightened someone.

The onlookers made up their minds: they would provide aid to the best of their abilities and look out for one another from now on.

People like that man shouldn't be tolerated, nor allowed to cause harm simply because everyone preferred to avoid trouble.

What the operators didn't realize was that their decisive actions had sparked a change—enlightening many of those watching.

They had shattered the bystander effect, inspiring others to take initiative instead of freezing in hesitation.