Chapter 74: Confirming the Source

On the way back, Wang Zhong became quiet and withdrawn.

The streets, flooded with water, had few pedestrians and even fewer vehicles, yet Wang Zhong stared out the window, his eyes dull and vacant.

Just as they neared the Criminal Investigation Team, Wang Zhong finally asked: “Are we just too useless?”

Jiang Yuan frowned tactically: “We?”

“I mean us tech guys—look, when conditions aren’t met, we can’t solve anything at all. Just take today’s rain: surveillance footage is useless, fingerprints can’t be scanned, footprints don’t match…” Wang Zhong muttered, “I know many major unsolved cases were abandoned because of heavy rain. But when you actually face one like this, it still feels awful inside.”

Jiang Yuan made an “oh” sound.

“Don’t you understand?” Wang Zhong felt disappointed; they were all tech staff—they should feel the same way.

Jiang Yuan kept his eyes on the road ahead: “I understand, but it still leaves you feeling powerless, right?”

“Exactly! Powerlessness—that’s a perfect summary. That’s exactly it. So you do understand…”

“But today’s case hasn’t reached the point of powerlessness yet,” Jiang Yuan cut in, stopping Wang Zhong’s lament.

Wang Zhong sat up straight: “Not yet? With this much rain…”

“It didn’t rain inside the shop,” Jiang Yuan glanced at him. “Isn’t the focus of our scene investigation the interior?”

Wang Zhong jolted—he was right. Today’s focus was inside the shop.

Wang Zhong hurriedly asked: “Did you pick up any fingerprints or anything?”

“Probably no fingerprints. We’ll check after we get back,” Jiang Yuan had several ideas but didn’t voice them.

Some things are too exhausting to discuss in the abstract—they might spiral into arguments. Better to produce results first.

Wang Zhong grew more eager, parked the car with Jiang Yuan, and hurried after him toward the office.

Just before reaching the building, Jiang Yuan turned a corner and entered the K-9 Unit’s compound.

Wang Zhong blinked in surprise: “Are we using dogs?”

“Did you eat lunch?” Jiang Yuan countered.

“Oh… oh, forgot,” Wang Zhong rubbed his head sheepishly. “Let’s eat first—fried rice or from the canteen?”

Jiang Yuan said: “We cook ourselves. With the dog. I promised Dazhuang.”

Wang Zhong’s eyebrows knotted: “Of those few sentences, I only understood the first one.”

As they spoke, Dazhuang, leash in tow, lunged forward with wild enthusiasm.

The sharp clang of the chain snapping taut exploded in the officers’ ears—more jarring than gunfire. Wang Zhong instinctively stepped back, hands raised defensively.

Dazhuang barked “Wang!”—ignored Wang Zhong entirely—and frantically wagged his tail at Jiang Yuan. His face wore every possible expression of pleading, adoring, and ecstatic submission.

“The vegetables and meat are ready,” Li Li, hearing the commotion, dashed out of the kitchen, glanced at Wang Zhong, and asked: “One more?”

“Make some noodles. Add extra sauce when cooking the veggies—it’s delicious too. Master and I can’t eat much,” Jiang Yuan, with his LV5 dog-cooking skill, could adapt flexibly.

Wang Zhong smiled apologetically: “I can just have instant noodles.”

“No need,” Jiang Yuan waved him off. When LV5 dog food was done, Wang Zhong eating instant noodles beside Dazhuang would look even worse off than the dog.

He didn’t want Wang Zhong stealing Dazhuang’s food and stunting the police dog’s growth.

“Then let me help,” Wang Zhong reiterated his eagerness.

At that moment, Dazhuang, sensing Wang Zhong about to touch the ingredients, let out an urgent “Wang!”—the chain rattled violently.

“Dazhuang, sit!” Li Li shouted.

Dazhuang slumped dejectedly by the door, eyes locked on Wang Zhong, glaring as if to say: “Try touching anything—I dare you.”

Wang Zhong swallowed hard and quickly moved to stand beside Li Li.

Li Li’s expression remained calm, her brows lowered like a Rottweiler’s. She patted Wang Zhong’s shoulder with practiced ease: “Don’t interfere. When Jiang Yuan cooks, Dazhuang won’t let me help either. Dogs grow up—they develop their own ideas.”

Wang Zhong chuckled awkwardly.

On the other side, Jiang Yuan had his phone playing the surveillance footage from Xinfan Smoke Shop, mounted on the stove, looping continuously.

Watching the video on a phone wasn’t clear, but Jiang Yuan didn’t care much.

He could enhance visuals or specific points by reducing noise, applying collaborative filtering, and other methods.

But for Jiang Yuan now, what mattered wasn’t the technique—it was where to apply it.

In the video, the robber held a sharp blade, wrapped tightly in a hooded sweatshirt, revealing only his eyes. Throughout, even when panting from exertion, he never lifted the hood.

For this, noise reduction, collaborative filtering—none of it would help.

To see his face, you’d need X-ray vision—which was obviously forbidden.

Jiang Yuan instead wanted to use this to remind himself where real enhancement was truly needed.

Fat sizzled, beef simmered, seafood steamed…

Jiang Yuan handled each ingredient step by step, making Li Li and Dazhuang drool.

Meanwhile, his mind continuously analyzed every detail of the video, ranking his thoughts in order of priority.

He had many options—not a lack of leads.

Many details in the video could be explored: the hooded sweatshirt, likely bought online—if its source could be confirmed, it might lead to the suspect’s identity.

The suspect’s shoes appeared multiple times; the burlap sacks used to transport cigarettes were another lead. But Jiang Yuan focused most on the weapon in the suspect’s hand.

A short knife, half an arm’s length.

The blade had clearly been sharpened by hand; even so, two such long blades weren’t something easily purchased.

Whether the source could be confirmed, Jiang Yuan wasn’t sure yet. It depended on the evidence.

When the meal was ready, Jiang Yuan scooped out Dazhuang’s portion first, glancing instinctively at the dog.

Dazhuang immediately puckered his lips, grinning at Jiang Yuan as if to say “Look how clever I am,” far more alert than anyone else.