Chapter 374: It seems the shopkeeper has appeared

The dark night was like ink, the wind like a blade.

The silhouette of the "worker" carrying a canvas bag flickered a few times through the tangled shadows of the abandoned theater, then slipped out of the broken fence and stepped back into the wormwood thickets at the edge of the wasteland.

He was clearly familiar with this terrain.

His steps were swift and secretive, sticking to the depressions and abandoned fields where moonlight could not reach.

Li Ping'an clung like a bone-deep ulcer, pushing the Carefree Step to its utmost.

His form almost became a faint gray shadow gliding along the ground, using each clump of wormwood and each rise of earth for cover, tenaciously gripping the vague silhouette ahead.

He kept the distance always at the edge of his Divine Perception's effective range.

He dared not follow too closely, lest the other notice.

Nor did he dare fall too far behind, lest he lose the target in this pitch-black, complex wilderness.

The "worker" seemed extremely vigilant, often suddenly changing direction or abruptly stopping to listen.

Twice, he even deliberately doubled back on his own route, laying a simple counter‑tracking trap.

Fortunately, Li Ping'an's Divine Perception was keen; he could always sense the other's breath and muscle tension a split second in advance, barely avoiding detection.

The two, one ahead and one behind, moved like two silent ghosts, swiftly traversing the desolate fringe of the city.

Gradually, scattered lights appeared ahead.

That was the shanty district on the edge of Four Nine City.

The low, ramshackle houses lay like a crouching herd of beasts, exuding an air of poverty and disorder.

The "worker" did not enter the interior of the shanty area.

Instead, he continued along a narrow alley where sewage flowed and garbage piled, probing deeper into the city.

His route selection was extremely cunning.

He avoided main roads, taking only those back alleys without even a streetlamp.

Sometimes he even needed to scramble over low, collapsed courtyard walls.

His movements were so practiced they were startling.

Li Ping'an's heart gradually sank.

This was certainly no ordinary laborer.

Nor was he a run‑of‑the‑mill agent.

Such familiarity with the city's capillary‑like alleys, such ability to move like a fish in darkness, could not be achieved without years of lurking and special training.

Under the Shopkeeper, there truly lay hidden dragons and crouching tigers.

He tailed him for about another half an hour.

The surrounding buildings gradually became more orderly.

Although it was still an old‑style bungalow district, the roads were somewhat wider, and occasional faded slogans could be seen on the walls.

The "worker's" steps finally slowed.

He stopped at the mouth of a relatively secluded side street.

Diagonally opposite the street mouth was a unit bearing a crooked wooden sign.

The characters on the sign were hard to make out in the dim light, but the façade was broad, with a spacious yard piled full of assorted junk.

It looked like… a scrap‑recycling station?

The "worker" did not go in right away.

Like the previous "old pipe smoker," he hid in the corner's shadow and quietly observed for a full two or three minutes.

His keen gaze swept over the scrap yard's tightly shut iron gate, over the pitch‑black windows opposite, and over the entire quiet lane.

Li Ping'an had long been lying low behind a pile of old bricks and tiles a few dozen meters away.

His breath nearly merged with the cold bricks and stones.

Yet his Divine Perception locked firmly onto that figure at the street corner.

The "worker" seemed to have confirmed safety.

He adjusted his collar and shifted the canvas bag holding his notebook on his back to a more convenient position.

Then he stepped out of the shadow, unhurriedly crossed the side street, and arrived before the rust‑streaked iron gate of the scrap yard.

He did not knock.

Instead, he reached out and, at an inconspicuous spot on the gate's side, tapped lightly in a specific rhythm a few times.

The sound was soft, but in the quiet night it rang especially clear.

Moments later.

Above the iron gate, a palm‑sized observation window was pulled open from inside.

An eye appeared at the window, coldly scanning the person outside.

The "worker" slightly lifted his head, letting the person inside see his face clearly.

At the same time, he whispered something.

The distance was too great for Li Ping'an to hear clearly.

But his Divine Perception could catch the faint vibration of the airflow.

It seemed to be a brief signal.

The observation window closed.

Immediately afterward, a tiny side door beside the iron gate—just wide enough for one person—was pulled open a crack with a squeak from inside.

The "worker" turned sideways and darted inside in a flash.

The side door promptly shut.

Everything fell silent again.

Li Ping'an did not act rashly.

The situation inside the scrap yard was unclear.

Rashly approaching or sneaking in would entail extremely high risk.

He remained concealed behind the material piles.

He concentrated his Divine Perception to its peak and cautiously extended it into the interior of the scrap yard.

The first thing he "saw" was a vast courtyard piled with various scrap metal, broken cardboard boxes, and ruined furniture.

The air was filled with a mixed smell of rust, dust, and decaying matter.

In the deeper part of the courtyard stood several low buildings with dim yellow lights.

His Divine Perception continued to extend.

Passing through the cluttered courtyard, he approached those few lit buildings.

One of them resembled a simple office.

Inside, the furnishings were simple: an old table, a few chairs, and an iron filing cabinet.

The table was stacked with some ledgers and documents.

At that moment, besides the "worker" who had just entered, there was another person in the room.

That person had his back to the window, sitting behind the table.

Only a slightly paunchy back in an old dark blue Mao suit could be seen.

His hair was neatly combed, but with some gray.

"Did you bring the things?" the seated person said.

His voice was not loud, carrying a deliberate, slowed cadence of one long accustomed to authority.

It was exactly the voice that had verified the password behind the scrap yard's small side door earlier.

"I have." The "worker" replied, his tone respectful.

He stepped forward, took out the hardcover notebook from the canvas bag, and placed it with both hands on the table.

The seated person did not immediately reach for the notebook.

Instead, he slowly turned his chair.

Li Ping'an's Divine Perception finally saw his front clearly.

A man's face in his fifties.

Square face, wide mouth, thick eyebrows, and a pair of old-fashioned black-frame glasses perched on his nose.

The eyes behind the lenses were not large, but the gaze was steady, even somewhat... imposing?

Li Ping'an could be certain he had never seen this face before.

He was neither any known leader of the City Bureau nor any related figure from the Steel Rolling Mill or earlier clues.

Yet that bearing and posture were absolutely not those of an ordinary scrap yard supervisor.

"No problem?" the man asked again, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop.

"Confirmed. 'Old Smoking Pipe' checked the password, and I also skimmed through—it's the original. It contains records of the Yongli Factory old case, Tan Foreman, and early contact points." The "worker" replied.

The man nodded, finally reaching out to take the notebook.

He opened the cover and, under the dim desk lamp, quickly flipped through a few pages.

His finger lingered on a certain page for a moment.

Li Ping'an's Divine Perception strove to focus, attempting to "read" the contents of that page.

But distance and obstacles were too great; he could barely sense that the page seemed to bear a simple diagram, with dense annotations beside it.

A flicker almost imperceptible moved at the corner of the man's mouth.

Like a sigh of relief, yet also... somewhat regretful?

"All right, you completed your mission well." The man closed the notebook and locked it into the desk drawer.

"Shopkeeper... any further instructions?" the "worker" ventured to ask.

"Go back first, remain hidden according to the second plan. Don't make any moves for now; wait for my notice." The man waved his hand, "Exit through the back door."

"Yes." The "worker" dared not ask further, bowed, and withdrew from the room.

Li Ping'an's Divine Perception immediately split off a portion to trail the "worker".

Seeing him indeed leave through a more concealed side gate at the opposite end of the courtyard, quickly vanishing into the night.

The scrap yard's courtyard returned to calm.

In the office, the man sat alone beneath the light.

He did not leave right away.

Instead, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

His fingers unconsciously continued to tap the tabletop.

As if thinking, yet also as if waiting.

Doubts proliferated in Li Ping'an's heart.

Is this man the "Shopkeeper"?

He felt... not quite.

Although his bearing was extraordinary, it seemed to lack something.

He seemed more like a subordinate of the Shopkeeper, a senior chief responsible for safeguarding important items and even handling concrete affairs.

That crucially important notebook was now locked in his desk drawer.

Should he act now?

Li Ping'an assessed the risk.

Inside the scrap yard, besides this man, there seemed to be no other armed personnel.

The courtyard was large, but the terrain was open, unfavorable for hiding.

If he suddenly attacked, with his skill, he had a seventy to eighty percent chance of instantly subduing this man and obtaining the notebook.

But… what if?

What if this scrap yard hides something else?

What if this man also carries a deadly device like the one hidden in the toe of an old pipe shoe?

Most importantly, if this man is not the shopkeeper, capturing him might instead alert the real shopkeeper, causing all leads to break again.

Li Ping'an forced himself to calm down.

Patience.

He must have patience.

Since the notebook is already here, this man is also here.

There's no fear it will fly away.

He decided to keep waiting.

To see what this man will do next, whether he will contact the real shopkeeper.

Time passed minute by minute.

The man in the office seemed to be truly just waiting.

He occasionally opened his eyes, glanced at the wall clock.

He lifted the enamel jar on the table and took a sip of water.

His demeanor showed no anxiety, as if he were accustomed to long waits.

Just as Li Ping'an wondered whether he would sit there until dawn.

Outside the scrap yard, at the far end of the small street, an extremely faint car engine sound came.

The sound was muffled, as if it had been deliberately treated.

From far to near, it finally stopped outside the scrap yard's main gate.

There was no honking, nor the sound of car doors opening.

But the man in the office, as if he had received some signal, immediately stood up.

He straightened his Mao suit, smoothing the lapels.

He walked to the desk, opened the drawer, and took out that notebook.

He did not put it in a bag, but directly slipped it into the inner pocket of his Mao suit.

Then he blew out the oil lamp on the table.

The office plunged into darkness.

The man walked out of the room, crossed the junk-filled courtyard, and came to the big iron gate.

He slowly pulled open the rust-streaked big iron gate.

Outside, a black sedan with its lights off was parked.

Its model was ordinary, with no markings.

The rear window of the sedan slowly lowered halfway.

Revealing a deep darkness inside the vehicle.

The man walked to the car, slightly bent down, and whispered something to the lowered window.

At the same time, his hand seemed to move.

Li Ping'an's Divine Perception clearly "saw" him pass the hardcover notebook from his pocket through the window gap into the car.

Inside the car, a hand wearing white cotton gloves reached out and took the notebook.

That hand had long, slender fingers with distinct knuckles.

At the wrist, a small cuff of a dark blue wool coat showed.

On the cuff appeared an extremely tiny but exquisitely crafted metal cufflink, which caught a glint of cold light from a faint glow leaking from a distant street corner.

The man kept his bent posture, as if listening to the instructions from inside the car.

After a few seconds, he respectfully nodded.

The window rose silently.

The sedan's engine again emitted a muffled sound, it slowly started, turned, and drove away from the scrap yard's entrance.

It soon disappeared at the end of the street.

The man straightened up, stood in the empty doorway, gazing in the direction the car had vanished, motionless.

The night wind fluttered the dark blue hem of his clothing.

The shadow beneath his hat brim concealed all his current expressions.

Then he slowly turned and walked back to the scrap yard.

The heavy iron gate behind him closed again.

Separating inside from outside into two worlds.

Behind the material piles.

Li Ping'an slowly opened his eyes.

His back was already slightly damp with cold sweat.

Not because of this man.

But because of the fleeting glimpse inside that car.

The hand wearing the white glove.

The cuff of that deep blue woolen overcoat.

That icy, exquisite metal cufflink.

And… when the carriage drove off, he strained his Divine Perception to the limit and caught that extremely faint trace inside the vehicle, a trace that made his soul shudder…

A familiar yet unfamiliar aura.

Shopkeeper…

He finally saw… the shopkeeper's… a silhouette.

And the identity that silhouette indicated.

Made his blood throughout his body nearly freeze.

The night deepened further.

The fog shrouded the city.

It also sealed Li Ping'an's heart, that truth as tumultuous as a raging tide.