Chapter 10: Chapter Ten: Combat Power Ranking

Not only Huang Qiang, but Yan Ge and Wang Zhong, who had also picked up the scent, followed him into the forensic office.

Jiang Yuan’s desk was angled toward the door; the three men turned slightly and could see the fingerprint image on his screen—two clusters of fine black-and-white lines, one on the left, one on the right, like two tangled balls of yarn, dizzying to look at.

Huang Qiang and the other two moved silently to Jiang Yuan’s rear, their steps as light as a lynx’s, making not a single sound.

Wu Jun looked up and immediately noticed their movement, paused for a moment, then buried himself in his work. Compared to Jiang Yuan, this rookie officer, the veteran cops in the room were all seasoned fox-level practitioners—keen-nosed and mutually familiar, so much so that a shift in posture revealed their inner thoughts.

Jiang Yuan had his headphones on, listening to music, completely oblivious to the outside world as he compared fingerprints.

Fingerprint analysis demands extreme focus. Especially when working with fingerprints from the database, few can be matched instantly.

Following routine procedures to label these old fingerprints usually yields nothing, because the same or similar steps have surely already been tried by the officers who uploaded them.

It’s like solving a difficult problem using textbook methods—it’s nearly impossible to find the answer. You must adapt the approach; otherwise, it wouldn’t have been classified as a difficult case in the first place.

But how to adapt, whether the adaptation is correct and equivalent—that’s where true skill is tested.

Jiang Yuan’s Bow Pattern Identification (LV3) isn’t powerful enough to dominate; he still must constantly practice and experiment.

With a recent homicide case concluded, the forensic workload was relatively light, allowing Jiang Yuan to focus comfortably on fingerprints.

From Huang Qiang’s perspective, Jiang Yuan’s movements reminded him of how his daughter retouched photos—those black-and-white lines constantly zooming in and out, occasionally shifting position, looking highly complex.

Huang Qiang wanted to understand, so he turned to look at Yan Ge and Xiao Wang.

The two trace evidence officers looked more vacant and dumb than usual, like two dazed cats, staring fixedly at Jiang Yuan’s screen.

Huang Qiang glanced at them and immediately understood the situation.

It was like a predator approaching its prey, making the prey tense with fear; a boss approaching his secretary, making the secretary tense with fear; a wife approaching her husband, making the husband tense with fear; a teacher approaching a student, making the student tense with fear—Yan Ge and Xiao Wang clearly foresaw something terrifying.

Tap. Tap.

Jiang Yuan tapped twice more, confirming a new feature point.

Yan Ge and Wang Zhong leaned forward to look, their expressions like elementary students encountering the “chickens and rabbits in the same cage” problem for the first time—curious, yet daunted.

Huang Qiang looked at them and, strangely, felt a pang of sympathy. Shannan Province’s economy was average, and Ningtai County was a small town; Yan Ge and Xiao Wang were like many county-level criminal investigation officers—graduates of formal programs, but trained in broad, shallow subjects; after being assigned to trace evidence work, they received little systematic training, at most attending occasional workshops, stumbling along behind seniors to get the job done.

In such an environment, some, through self-study, grew rapidly; provincial fingerprint experts, when traced back, followed much the same path.

But most, like Yan Ge and Xiao Wang, had no real learning opportunities; even when they had the motivation, they merely became screws in the police machine.

In contrast, Jiang Yuan appeared far more focused and confident.

Director Huang cleared his throat twice, pulling Jiang Yuan out of his trance.

“You helped Longli County with a robbery fingerprint case?” Director Huang asked as soon as Jiang Yuan removed his headphones.

Jiang Yuan paused, then nodded.

Director Huang nodded approvingly: “Today’s college graduates are impressive—capable, educated. But… why are all the matched fingerprints from Longli County?”

Huang Qiang drew out his words, clearly hinting.

“They uploaded more fingerprints, so I just downloaded theirs,” Jiang Yuan replied naturally—he couldn’t admit he’d randomly picked a nearby, easy target from a pile of soft fruit.

Huang Qiang nodded: “Helping sister units isn’t bad. Hmm… you’re currently doing fingerprint matching?”

“Yes, I picked a cold case at random…”

“Which county?”

“Uh… still Longli County.” Jiang Yuan knew how to read people’s expressions. After all, he was a forensic officer—he had to read dead faces, but living ones too.

Huang Qiang made no attempt to hide his suspicion—he now believed Jiang Yuan had some murky connection to Longli County, so he asked outright: “Do you have family in Longli County?”

“No.”

“Then… forget it. Show me a fingerprint match from Ningtai County,” Huang Qiang said bluntly, his style direct.

“Alright,” Jiang Yuan replied obediently. Seeing Huang Qiang seemed eager to watch, he added: “Fingerprint comparison takes time—it won’t be done in a moment. Any case type preference?”

“Prioritize cold cases. Do it well. When you get results, notify me directly!” Huang Qiang wasn’t fully confident in Jiang Yuan’s ability, but in Ningtai County, six-packs were common; forensic officers who understood technology were rare.

Huang Qiang gave Jiang Yuan his phone number, then nodded to Wu Jun: “Explain our Combat Power Ranking to him.”

Then, without bothering with Yan Ge or Wang Zhong, Huang Qiang walked out of the room.

Jiang Yuan turned to Wu Jun with curiosity: “Combat Power Ranking?”

The name sounded distinctly otaku.

Wu Jun smiled: “It’s what the provincial bureau calls its performance evaluation list. The province ranks cities, cities rank districts, districts rank townships—all using the same detailed criteria. Open your Police Information System and you’ll see it. In trendy terms, it’s our police KPI.”

Jiang Yuan stared blankly, then said: “KPI doesn’t sound as cool as ‘Combat Power Ranking.’ Is it really called that?”

“Yes,” Wu Jun nodded firmly. “The Combat Power Ranking is our current compass. Do well, and your superiors get promoted and your team gets awards. Do poorly, and your superiors must give self-criticism reports in full meetings. If they still fail, they get reassigned or removed. And it’s layered—each level has its own requirements.”

Unlike other government departments, the police system’s performance evaluation is notoriously complex. Besides Shannan Province, other provinces and prefectures have similar rankings, though names may differ—Zhuhai, for example, has its “Police Resource Combat Power List.” (Note)

Qinghe’s Combat Power Ranking is extremely detailed: over thirty police specialties, more than six hundred sub-items, each assigned different weightings, updated in real time, and constantly competing. Just for criminal cases, there are multiple categories—from homicide to property crimes.

Wu Jun gave a general overview: “At the county criminal investigation team level, the annual total is around 1,000 points. Solving one robbery cold case, or any of the other seven major cold case categories, earns about 30 points; serial cases get bonuses. Homicide cases carry the highest points—solving one and arresting the suspect nets 70 to 100 points. Property crimes like theft? About 0.1 to 0.5 points per solved case, slightly more if it’s a serial case or if the suspect is caught…”

“You said homicide and robbery cases are cold cases—what about active ones?” Jiang Yuan asked.

“Active major cases use a penalty system,” Wu Jun paused, then said seriously: “It’s terrifying. For example, a homicide active case is worth 100 points. Solve one and arrest the suspect—you get full 100 points. Solve two or three? Still 100 points. But if you solve one and miss one, you lose 70 points. Miss two? Lose 140. Miss three? Lose 210. And so on…”

“So if ten homicides go unsolved, you’d lose 700 points?”

“Theoretically, yes.”

“In practice?”

“In practice, the city tolerates five unsolved homicides. If your county has three unsolved, the criminal investigation team captain gets replaced.”

“So solving one homicide cold case gives you nearly a tenth of the entire team’s points?” Jiang Yuan was surprised.

Wu the forensic officer chuckled: “Don’t be modest. You’d get a fifth, and you’d get merit and rewards. Last year, our team scored only around 700 points, and that included plenty of base points. Do you know when our last solved homicide cold case was? Two years ago. And while fingerprints are important, they have limits—not every case has usable fingerprint evidence, and even when it does, matching isn’t guaranteed. But if you match even one clue from another major case, you’re the biggest donkey in the commune—the one who gets to pick the best female donkey.”

“No wonder…” Jiang Yuan now understood Director Huang’s mood—he’d essentially earned Longli County thirty or forty points.

Wu Jun added: “Helping other units also earns points—it counts as cooperation. If you play a key role, you get a quarter, a fifth… anyway, solving the case is good. But solving your own is always more satisfying.”

A quarter is still far less than solving it yourself, but you can compete with other counties.

Jiang Yuan finally got it—he understood why Director Huang had asked Master to introduce him to the Combat Power Ranking. But now he didn’t know which case to pick next.

Wang Zhong cleared his throat: “I know of a case…”

Note 1: Some provinces have indeed created a “Combat Power Ranking” with exactly this name, functioning as described, with minor modifications.