Chapter 153: Police Station

On the fourth floor of the police station, a middle-aged man named Jin Haoguang, with greasy hair and a powdered face, held a measuring tape and meticulously measured the distances between every desk, chair, cabinet, and potted plant in the office, muttering to himself about feng shui and fortune.

On his police uniform's shoulder insignia were four small hibiscus flowers, denoting his rank as Chief of the Gangdong District Police Station in Seoul, holding the highest police rank.

After World War II, Korea's anti-feudal and anti-colonial revolution was incomplete, and vast amounts of cultural debris were swept along and preserved to this day.

Among the upper-class elites, some believed in witchcraft, others in shamanism, still others in face reading; like Jin Haoguang, a senior officer in the Seoul police force, he too believed in feng shui—on a sweltering summer day, he refused to turn on the air conditioning, fearing it would harm his official fortune.

Knock knock knock.

The burglary door, fitted with a Class-C lock core, was knocked on; a young man's voice came from outside: "Chief, a man named Jiang Wanyong has come downstairs and demands to see you."

"Hm?" Jin Haoguang's face darkened. He called out to the door: "I told him to wait at home for news. Go tell him I've already clocked out."

"Yes."

Voices from the end of the corridor grew louder: "Mr. Jiang, our chief has already left for the day. Please come back tomorrow."

"That's impossible! I saw the office lights still on downstairs!"

"He really has left."

"I don't believe you—you're just brushing me off! You haven't even seriously looked for my wife! I need to see your chief—don't block me!"

"Please calm down!"

The conversation in the corridor drew closer, suddenly turning into a violent struggle and shoving. Jin Haoguang frowned, stepped to the door, and quietly cracked it open to peer out—then his pupils dilated in shock.

In the fourth-floor corridor stood only one figure.

The figure wore a police uniform, back turned to the office door, pulling at his own uniform as if wrestling himself, creating the sound of shoving, while emitting two entirely different voices from his mouth.

As if hearing the door open, the figure kept his upper body still, then violently twisted his neck backward—nearly a full 180 degrees—turning his head to stare at Jin Haoguang with an eerie grin: "Finally opened the door."

Jin Haoguang was paralyzed with terror, about to slam the door shut—but the other's movement was faster. He stepped backward, forcing himself into the office, casually shut the Class-C lock-core burglary door, then delivered a whip-like kick that sent Jin Haoguang crashing to the floor.

"Good evening, Chief Jin. Do you recognize me?"

Li Cheng knelt in the standard knee-pressure posture, pressing his knee against Jin Haoguang's nape to silence him, then slowly straightened his own head.

(The effect and scope of 【Assembled Puppet】 is strangely precise: using one's own cervical vertebrae as a component allows for this owl-like head-twisting effect. More aggressively, one could temporarily remove internal organs like the spleen or intestines, play with them in one's hands, and reinsert them before hypoxia causes necrosis.)

"You—"

Jin Haoguang stammered; in his vision, the man's facial features writhed, slowly transforming into the likeness of Jiang Wanyong: "Jiang Wanyong?! Are you human or ghost?"

"Do ghosts have body heat? Do ghosts cast shadows? Do ghosts have weight heavy enough to pin someone down? Hmm, the last one actually might—my friend Ning is constantly haunted by a ghost pressing on his bed."

Li Cheng rubbed his chin and said: "Anyway, tell me everything about Jiang Wanyong's wife, Jiang Shaoxi."

"I don't know. I already told you everything over the phone."

"Incorrect answer."

Li Cheng whistled softly, applying slight pressure with his knee, causing a series of cracking sounds from Jin Haoguang's cervical bones: "Knee pressure on the neck compresses the carotid sinus, sharply lowering heart rate, obstructing the trachea, and preventing breathing. You have two minutes."

This knee-pressure-on-the-neck technique, before becoming a police method for restraining suspects (like the Floyd case that sparked BLM), was originally a classic tactic used by reconnaissance troops to capture prisoners.

Less than twenty seconds later, Jin Haoguang's eyes bulged with blood from oxygen deprivation, his throat emitting a muffled, rasping breath as he pounded the floor with his palms in desperate plea.

Li Cheng remained motionless. After another dozen or so seconds, once Jin Haoguang's face had turned completely liver-colored, he slightly eased the pressure: "Ready to cooperate? Speak."

"Huh—huh—"

Jin Haoguang's lungs gasped like a broken bellows, struggling to draw air; after a long moment, he wept and trembled, terrified: "Jiang Shaoxi… is dead."

"Hmm? How do you know that?"

Li Cheng raised an eyebrow. His mission was to find clues about Jiang Shaoxi—yet this man was already dead? That shouldn't be.

"The corpse is downstairs in the forensic office. I confirmed it myself."

Jin Haoguang spoke with gritted teeth, terrified the man might accidentally snap his neck: "An hour ago, someone used the police internal line to call me, ordering me to come downstairs."

"Two men arrived in a van and delivered Jiang Shaoxi's corpse, telling me to place it directly into the morgue cabinet. They said I could call you to claim it only tomorrow night."

Li Cheng tilted his head. "Someone delivers a corpse, and you just accept it? Is the Seoul Police this careless?"

"One of them was an ex-police officer I know, surnamed Song. The other sat in the car the whole time—a young stranger."

Fearing another knee pressure, Jin Haoguang spilled everything like beans from a bamboo tube.

As a nation built entirely by the United States, Korea fully emulated America, including its own cheap version of the revolving door between government and business.

Some local businessmen deliberately hired retired senior government officials and police officers, leveraging their old connections to invite current officials and officers to freely enjoy entertainment at the businessmen's nightclubs, bars, and other venues, thereby corrupting them.

Once these officials retired or left service, they were given lucrative positions in return.

In turn, this revolving-door protection umbrella turned a blind eye to all reports against the businessmen's enterprises—gambling, drugs, prostitution, corporate tax evasion—and even helped cover them up.

The retired police officer surnamed Song mentioned by Jin Haoguang was one such figure—he knew the police station layout, deliberately drove the van through the underground passage to transfer the corpse, avoiding all surveillance cameras.

As for the mysterious prior call, because it used the internal line, no caller ID was displayed.

The mere fact that someone could use the police internal line proved something significant.

"Tell me everything about that officer surnamed Song."

Li Cheng thought for a moment, then said, "And take me to see the corpse."

(End of Chapter)