Chapter 376: Unbelievable

The road from the western suburbs' waste factory to inside Four Nine City, Li Ping'an walked for a long time.

Each step felt like stepping on red-hot charcoal.

Each step carried the lingering tremor of a soul torn apart.

The wind grew colder.

It blew on his soaked underwear, taking away body heat, but could not take away the bone‑deep chill in his heart.

He took a very roundabout route.

He passed through barren fields, waded through icy ditches thinly frozen, and wandered about in a maze‑like suburban village.

Like a wounded beast, he instinctively erased all traces of himself.

Until a pallid fish‑belly white appeared on the horizon.

Only then did he step from a secluded alley into the gray‑misty morning light of Four Nine City.

Early‑rise vendors were setting up their stoves, and the first tram, tailing a braid, glided over the empty streets.

Street‑sweeping cleaners waved their big brooms, raising dust.

Everything was as usual.

Ordinary, trivial, full of the vitality of everyday life.

But what Li Ping'an saw in his eyes was another scene.

Those hurried passersby, those windows lit up, those factories about to start operating……

Beneath this tranquility, what a terrifying shadow lurks?

Shopkeeper.

That name, that identity, was like an iceberg, heavily pressing on his heart.

Cold, massive, unfathomable, enough to shatter any ship that dared to approach.

When he returned home, the siheyuan had just awakened.

Yan Bu Gui was squatting in the front courtyard, carefully loosening the soil for his few pots of chrysanthemums with a small shovel.

Hearing the footsteps, he raised his head and pushed up his glasses.

"Ping'an? So early… went fishing again?" His gaze habitually swept over Li Ping'an's empty hands.

Li Ping'an shook his head, forcing a hint of his usual weary calm onto his face.

"No, I just went out early for a stroll."

His voice was a little hoarse.

A flicker of disappointment and resignation flashed in Yan Bu Gui's eyes, barely noticeable.

Not catching a fish, returning empty‑handed, it seems Li Ping'an's idle days are not very comfortable either.

"Oh, taking a walk is fine, to clear the mind." Yan Bu Gui lowered his head, continued fiddling with his soil, muttering, "A calm heart brings natural coolness, a calm heart brings natural coolness……"

Li Ping'an paid no further heed, walking straight across the front courtyard.

In the central courtyard, Jia Zhangshi had her hands on her hips, directing Qin Huairu to hang the washed clothes on the line.

Seeing Li Ping'an, Jia Zhangshi's triangular eyes flashed, and she snorted a cold stream from her nose.

"Yo, Director Li, you're up awfully early! Is this to gauge public sentiment, or…… to reflect on your mistakes?"

Qin Huairu tugged at her garment's edge and whispered, "Mom!"

Jia Zhangshi shook off her hand, her voice turning sharper.

"What are you pulling me for? Did I say something wrong? Suspended from work, idling all day, not acting like a man! I think you've got something on your conscience!"

Normally, Li Ping'an might have ignored it or given a bland reply.

But now, the cold, scrutinizing gaze behind the Shopkeeper's gold‑rimmed glasses seemed to overlap with Jia Zhangshi's harsh face.

An inexplicable irritation and ferocity surged into his chest.

He stopped his steps.

He slowly turned his head.

His gaze fell on Jia Zhangshi's face.

In that gaze, the usual calm and tolerance were gone.

Only a bottomless, icy chill remained.

Like an icicle hanging from the eaves in the twelfth lunar month—sharp, bone‑piercing.

Jia Zhangshi was stabbed by that gaze, and the harsher words she had ready suddenly caught in her throat.

She opened her mouth, actually feeling a sudden inexplicable palpitation, and instinctively stepped back half a step.

Li Ping'an said nothing.

He merely glanced at her.

Then he turned and continued walking toward the rear courtyard.

His back was straight, yet it carried an aura that made people dare not approach.

Jia Zhangshi stood frozen in place until Li Ping'an entered the west wing courtyard, then she came to her senses.

She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling it still thumping wildly.

"What are you glaring at? Who are you trying to scare? If you've got the guts……" Her voice trailed off, and she finally didn't dare shout as before.

In the west wing courtyard.

Lin Xueqing was in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

Seeing her husband push the door open, she froze for a moment.

Li Ping'an's complexion was a pallor she had never seen before, and…… a deep‑seated fatigue.

It was not bodily tiredness, but more like the mark left after something had fiercely scorched his soul.

"Peace? You…" she set down the spoon in her hand, walked over, wanting to touch his forehead.

Li Ping'an grasped her hand.

His wife's hand was warm, soft, carrying the fresh scent of soap pod.

This real sensation pulled him back a little from that icy, terrifying night.

"I'm fine," he said in a low voice, his voice still hoarse, "I got up early, it's a bit chilly."

Lin Xueqing looked at him worriedly, clearly not believing him, but she didn't press further.

"Go lie down in the inner room for a bit; I'll call you when breakfast is ready. Yaozong hasn't woken yet."

Li Ping'an nodded, loosened his grip on her hand, and walked into the inner room.

He did not lie down.

Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, watching the sky outside the window gradually brighten.

Their son Li Yaozong was sleeping soundly on the small bed, his cheeks flushed, unaware of what he'd dreamed, a drop of shiny saliva hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Little Nuanqing in the cradle beside him was also sleeping sweetly.

The children's sleeping faces were pure, peaceful, unstained by a speck of dust.

Li Ping'an's gaze lingered on them for a long time.

The shopkeeper's face surfaced once again in his mind.

Gold-rimmed glasses.

A dignified gaze.

That dragon-patterned cufflink.

Moreover… on the surface, those glorious titles, those exalted positions, those powerful speeches he had heard countless times in various settings.

Absurd.

The utmost absurdity.

Yet it was so real, so… terrifying.

This person was like a malignant tumor deeply buried in the nation's body.

Outwardly, he even appeared to be part of the supporting structure.

But inside, he continually eroded, destroyed, and siphoned off the nutrients of life.

And now he knew of this tumor's existence.

He knew its terrifying true nature.

What should be done next?

Should he directly report to Group Leader Zheng of the Joint Investigation Team?

What about the evidence?

He had "seen" it, but how could he prove it?

Divine perception? Jade pendant space? How could such arcane things serve as admissible evidence?

Even if Group Leader Zheng believed him, facing such a formidable opponent, would the investigation team dare to act? Could they act?

Once the snake is startled, with the shopkeeper's power and ruthlessness, he could erase all traces in an instant and turn everything against him and the investigation team.

By then, not only would they fail to topple the shopkeeper, but they would also plunge themselves and all those in the know into an irredeemable abyss.

This road is practically impassable.

Then, secretly gather irrefutable evidence?

The notebook has already been taken by the shopkeeper.

The "Old Smoking Pipe" is about to be moved.

The disguised man at the scrap factory moves mysteriously.

Deputy Director Zhao's line is likely also already under the shopkeeper's surveillance or cleanup.

All overt and covert lines seem, after the shopkeeper senses risk, to be swiftly cut off or driven deeper underground.

The opponent's counter‑reconnaissance and cleanup abilities are beyond imagination.

Li Ping'an felt an unprecedented sense of helplessness.

Like a person bare‑handed standing at the mouth of a volcano about to erupt.

Seeing the magma churning, yet finding no way to stop it.

He couldn't even shout out loud.

Because a shout might first invite catastrophe.

Time.

He needs time.

He needs opportunity.

He needs… a fulcrum capable of moving this colossus.

An opportunity that would cause the shopkeeper to reveal a flaw, or compel higher powers to intervene.

Where is this opportunity?

Li Ping'an's brows were tightly knit.

His brain raced at an unprecedented speed.

He analyzed all known information, simulating various possibilities.

Why did the shopkeeper take that old notebook?

Was it merely to destroy early evidence?

Or does the content recorded inside still pose a major threat or hold value for him now?

Is the Shopkeeper appearing at the junkyard a routine occurrence, or is it only because recent rumors have tightened that this hidden base was activated?

What role does that man in makeup play in the Shopkeeper's network? Just a custodian? Or an executor with certain permissions?

What connection does the "Old Tan" from Deputy Director Zhao's dream ramblings have with the Shopkeeper?

Question marks collide in his mind one by one.

He tries to tear a sliver of faint light through that despairing dark curtain.

"Li Ping'an, dinner's ready."

Lin Xueqing's voice sounded from outside the door, gently interrupting his thoughts.

Li Ping'an took a deep breath.

He forced the raging storm in his eyes down.

He put back on that calm, slightly weary mask.

"It's here."

Steam rose gently from the Bangzi Noodle Porridge on the dining table.

The shredded pickles were cut into fine strands.

Li Yaozong had already gotten up on his own, clumsily holding a spoon to sip the porridge.

Xiao Nuanqing was cradled in Lin Xueqing's arms, being fed rice mush.

"Dad, are you still going fishing today?" Li Yaozong looked up and asked.

Li Ping'an paused, then shook his head.

"Not going today."

"Then where are you going?"

"Dad is staying home today, keeping sister company."

Li Yaozong's eyes lit up: "Really?"

"Really."

Lin Xueqing glanced at her husband, her gaze deepening with worry, yet she still didn't ask.

She knew her husband must be carrying something enormous in his heart.

He doesn't speak, so she doesn't ask.

It's the tacit understanding between them.

And also the trust forged through weathering storms together.

After the meal, Li Ping'an truly did not go out.

He moved a small stool, sat in the courtyard, watching Li Yaozong practice the fist form taught yesterday.

Occasionally he spoke up to correct him.

Sunlight gradually bathed the small courtyard.

Warm and soothing.

It dispelled some of the night's chill.

And it briefly illuminated the gloom in his heart.

But Li Ping'an knew.

This calm was fleeting.

It was the final gasp before the storm.

The Shopkeeper wouldn't let him stay idle forever.

The Armed Division's suspension investigation might be only the first step.

A more covert, more dangerous targeting may already be on the way.

And he must, before the next wave of storm arrives.

Find that fulcrum.

Find that… sword that can pierce the darkness.

His gaze crossed over the courtyard wall.

It shot toward the vast, intricate world beyond the Siheyuan.

It aimed at the huge, snarling shadow hidden beneath the radiant banner.

The battle has never ceased.

It merely shifted from the bright front to a deeper, deadlier darkness.

And he has no retreat.

Only to meet it head‑on.

In this silent haze of gunpowder…

In this furnace of destiny.

Either be forged into ash.

Or be forged into a blade that slashes through all specters and demons…

The sunlight, just right.

Falls upon his shoulder.

Heavy as a weight.

Like a thousand‑pound burden.