Chapter 90

89 Revenge and Understanding

'Ahahaha, that's really funny.'

As the female police officer was stunned by the fate of the female prisoner’s husband and began trembling slightly, a shopping bag at Li Ang’s feet rustled faintly—the Black Goat, having listened to the entire exchange, couldn’t help laughing loudly in Li Ang’s mind:

'So after all that effort, he ended up changing nothing at all! Ahahaha, that cripple died in the funniest way—I’ve never seen anyone so stupid... Ouch! Why’d you kick me?'

After stomping hard on the goat’s head to ensure it wouldn’t move again, Li Ang, feeling somewhat relieved, silently warned:

'Keep an eye on that bandage. I think it’s abnormal.'

'Huh? You suspect that’s also an anomaly?'

After observing the bandage on the female prisoner’s wrist through his soul vision and sensing a strange aura, the Black Goat also grew alert, eyes gleaming with curiosity:

'Damn, there really is something off about it... So how did this woman get caught while wielding an anomaly?'

'She... probably did it on purpose...'

After touching the dung beetle badge of the Virgin Cleanup Bureau and feeling no heat, Li Ang let out a quiet sigh.

This badge of the Cleanup Bureau would trigger an alert when encountering uncontrolled infected individuals, but showed no reaction to anomalies under skilled control—meaning the female prisoner was clearly adept at handling her anomaly.

Though unaware of the bandage’s ability, from the fate of its 'former owner,' it was unlikely to be a positive power—and their destination just happened to be the Ryan household...

She likely intended to infiltrate the Ryan household and use that bandage to avenge her husband!

Using the Black Goat’s soul vision, Li Ang glanced at the female prisoner’s soul—calm on the surface, yet churning with torrents of blood-red flame—and confirmed his suspicion, drawing a deep breath.

So... should I fulfill my duty?

While Li Ang hesitated—whether to stop this 'dangerous element,' ignore her, or even stoke the fire further—the female police officer, silent for a long while, finally spoke again:

'You’re not just some ordinary rebel, are you...'

Watching the female prisoner’s pupils contract sharply, the officer spoke softly, her expression complex:

I’ve arrested and interrogated many rebels. Most are lower-class people from the capital, poorly educated and with bleak life experiences—so they speak in short, blunt phrases, directly expressing emotion.

Whether in triumphant glee after an attack, in curses against us, or in complaints about their own fates—even after their defenses break and they reveal their origins—their narratives are tangled, chaotic in both wording and logic.

But you’re different. Though this conversation was unplanned, your account was fluent and clear. Aside from a few brief memories, your words showed no hesitation, laying out your entire story with precision. That’s not something an ordinary person could do.'

'Because my husband...'

'No, I’m not referring to that honorable gentleman’s case—I’m referring to you.'

After recalling her own words, the officer bit her lip hard, her gaze dimming as she continued:

'Besides that, when you tried using complex or obscure vocabulary just now, you spoke them effortlessly, without pause.

And throughout your narration, you deliberately stirred my emotions—as if you were deeply familiar with such exchanges. You’ve clearly received excellent education and frequently addressed large audiences.

Add to that your familiarity with military leadership changes and departmental jurisdictional divisions... You’re a high-ranking rebel, aren’t you?'

'...'

'I underestimated you.'

Facing the officer’s question, the female prisoner rubbed the bandage on her wrist, then nodded with quiet amusement, her expression slightly surprised:

'I thought you were just a naive noblewoman, like my cripple husband, fooled by that system and clinging to foolish illusions. I never expected you to have this ability.'

'You didn’t underestimate me. In the past... I really was as you said—I believed doing what I thought was right was enough. But before you...'

After pressing her lips, pale from biting, the officer lowered her head, her voice barely a whisper:

'Before you, I met another rebel. After reading his file, I began to think...'

Due to the officer’s low tone and the boiler’s deafening roar, the prisoner didn’t catch what she said, and frowned:

'What did you say?'

'Nothing...'

The officer shook her head firmly, regaining composure, then clenched her fists, her face resolute:

'I admit I lack experience and sometimes... I’m foolish. But I’ve put real effort into my duty!

And not just in the Ryan case—regarding your husband’s fate too, if the investigation ultimately proves it true, I will...'

'Before you finish investigating, you’ll be reassigned!'

Hearing her promise, the prisoner—her identity exposed and plan ruined, ready to strike—let out a cold laugh, sneering:

'Miss Isla, you’re so adorable... ridiculously naive!

You’re not the only one willing to defy the nobility for your duty—but not everyone has your privileged background!

Go ahead and investigate if you want! But remember: if not for your surname, your fate might be worse than my husband’s!'

Looking at the officer, now visibly shaken, the prisoner sneered with contempt:

'And even if you succeed, my stance won’t change. Because even if you manage this, it’s only because your father holds higher rank!

What my husband and I want isn’t this kind of patronizing, pity-filled 'salvation' from the powerful—we need direct blood for blood!'

'...'

Maybe you’re right... but...

Hearing her words brimming with murderous intent, the confused officer bit her lip, recalling her father’s back—once straight, now permanently hunched—and his hair, rapidly turning gray after taking on the military’s mess.

Father... I think I’m starting to understand you...

Clenching her fists tightly and taking a deep breath, the officer, who had been avoiding the prisoner’s gaze, met it for the first time—her voice quiet, yet utterly resolute:

'Maybe it’s meaningless. But as long as someone still tries, it’s stronger than total surrender.'